Lady Adventuress 01 - His Wayward Duchess (23 page)

“Excellent! Now, we must have parasols
. Mama, will you oblige us?”

The d
owager Lady Bettenhall waved her son away in exasperation. “Have your games then. There are a number of old ones about. But I trust the present company will excuse me if I retire. I find such jousts are not the thing for my nerves.”

*

No matter how he tried to occupy his attention, Strathavon’s eyes seemed invariably drawn to Holly’s daringly cut bodice. It was a thing of clever artifice if ever there was one: it seemed to have been designed specifically to fan the flames of his desire.

Undeniably, it was succeeding on every count
, for he was already having some trouble keeping his feelings hidden and out of the way.

The deep red of the fabric
emphasised the creamy paleness of her skin and the rich, dark colour of her hair. The cut of the gown lovingly caressed her delicate curves so that his hands wanted nothing more than to trace the contours of the saucy dress.

Wha
t would the other guests think if he were to sweep his duchess into his arms and carry her off home?

He watched as she laughed at something Lord Bettenhall said
while brandishing one of his mother’s lacy parasols. Her laughter got under his skin, and stayed there, affecting him more than the most potent French wine.

She was playing a game: of this much he could be certain beyond the shadow of a doubt.
And if his reaction was anything to go by, she was also winning.

*

The Duchess of Strathavon called on her friend Lady Louisa early the next morning, wearing an exquisite green silk visiting gown.

Lady Louisa had invited Verity and Holly to accompany her to one of the most fashionable Fr
ench chocolate houses in London, whose exclusive environs were frequently graced by no less distinguished persons than Prince George and the Duke of Kent.

The ladies
set out for Verity’s house at Brunswick Square in Lady Louisa’s fine carriage, and Holly found a pleasantly peaceful distraction in watching the houses blur one into the next outside the window as she repeated Lord Avonbury’s warning about Wooley.

“So you see
, it is very urgent that Verity discover the true nature of Lord Myles. Oh! If I could only…” she broke off in a passion.

“Yes, you are correct. It would never do for my niece to make
that
connection. Fortunately, if you wish Verity to own up to some feeling for your Sir John, then there is no more intimate a setting for ladies to talk then over chocolate,” she said to Holly confidently.

Holly
supposed that this was very sound reasoning.

“But tell me of your own husband.
How goes the conquest?” the lady asked, winking at her as they drove down Piccadilly.

“
Well, he dislikes all of my gowns, and he spends a great deal of time glowering over them.”

“Excellent.
”

“
It is a very peculiar thing… My feelings for the duke were all made up of passion at the start, for I did not really know him then, not yet. But now…”

“Now you do. That is only natural. But I have seen how he looks at you, and that hunger in his eyes will only grow in time. My advice – feed that hunger until it overtakes whatever it is that passes for reason and logic in the masculine mi
nd. That means that you must resist the hunger yourself. For a time. ”

Holly sighed. “He has me at my wits’ end. Why can he not just tell me what is in his heart? What
am I to do, have myself delivered to him wrapped in a rug like Cleopatra?”

That made Lady Louisa laugh
. “Perhaps later. For now, I would suggest a more subtle approach.”

Holly looked at the passing buildings with a great deal of studiousness. “I may have ordered a very special shift – from that lovely French shop, just in case
I should need extra ammunition to win the campaign.” She couldn’t help the small giggle that accompanied this confession.

“
Clever, clever girl! Ah, you are so much the daughter I never had, my dear Holly.”

Holly felt incredibly tou
ched at these simple words: all thought of naughtiness and husbands fled her as she felt the simple, soft joys of human friendship. She reached out and squeezed Lady Louisa’s hand.

“Thank you,” she said, with all
the earnestness in her heart. It seemed that Lady Louisa understood her unspoken words, for she patted Holly’s hand, before changing the topic to lighter matters until Verity joined them, and they alighted at the chocolate establishment.

*

Such was the reputation of Lady Louisa that their chocolate was not only served post haste, but the proprietor himself came out to welcome the lady, and provide a plate of complimentary biscuits, flavoured with almond and orange water.

Verity was even more
quiet than usual, Holly noticed. She wore a gentle frown on her pale face.

“What do you think,
Holly, of love?” she asked at last, looking somewhat uneasy and crumbling her biscuit over her plate without paying it much heed. “I know what my aunt thinks of it – but her views are not in line with my own.”

Holly was surprised at the turn the conversation had taken. She wondered if this was about Sir John or Lord Myles.

Verity’s question was a difficult one. “I think that love is a very complex matter. It is full of puzzles and unexpected turns, but it’s worth pursuing – because the treasure at the end is worth every moment of doubt.” She looked out the window at the passing carriages. “I think also that no matter what we may wish, love cannot bloom upon request.”

“Then there is nothing that would turn you from such a course once you were set on it?”

“Nothing. I do not think there is anything that should induce me to truly regret the hour when Lord Strathavon was introduced to my knowledge,” the duchess said earnestly.

“And what do you think, niece?” asked Lady Louisa.

Verity looked uncertain. “Indubitably, love is a matter of passion. Of that very first look and that most compelling dance that makes the rest of the evening mere shadows by comparison. It is a thing that sweeps you away.”

Lady Louisa chuckled
gently.

“Here, y
ou must forgive me, my dear girl, for I am old and prone to being crotchety, but I cannot agree with your definition of love. Passion is very important, yes. But the true joy of love is not passion, as is commonly believed, and it is not domestic bliss, for that has a different definition no matter whom you happen to ask. It seems to me that love’s greatest purpose is to make the hardships of life less difficult for each other. Joy follows naturally if that is the case. The rest is poetry, and consequently merely the fancy of poets.”

Holly was struck
by these words and what they might mean, for she saw in them a depth previously uncontemplated. She wondered who it was that Lady Louisa had loved so deeply and unreservedly. She hoped one day her friend would tell her.

Verity shook her head.
“Then how can you know it when it comes, if it is the subtle thing you say it is?”

“It is the sad truth of love, my dear, that often we only know it when it is gone,” the lady told
her niece. “That said, affection aside, it always serves to make sure a lady will have enough pin money to keep her through her married state – I do not think any love can survive poverty. It makes the faults of one’s spouse all the more evident.”

“
I have always thought that love is a grand, conquering thing – even poverty cannot stand in the way of it. But I have to own that, whatever his other faults may be, his lordship’s idea of pin money is very generous,” Holly said.

“But having a fortune can be as bad as being without one,” Verity murmured. “
I have heard of ladies who act dull or ridiculous to test the affections of their suitors – but I haven’t the least desire for such games. And it is astonishing what defects a suitor might be willing to overlook in an heiress. One is ever a target if one is even remotely in expectation of a fortune. Did you not find this to be true in your courtship, Holly?”

“
No at all. It is a small blessing that his lordship did not marry me for my money,” Holly said laughingly. “I can confidently say that I hadn’t a bean before my matrimony.” There was a slight trace of irony in her voice, but Verity did not pay it much heed, too lost in sharing her own woes in the hope that she might make some sense of them through hearing them spoken aloud.

“You are very fortunate
. Money is a dreadful burden. I am convinced there is nothing worse for a lady on the marriage mart than being set to inherit,” Verity declared. “Besides which, if you’ll forgive me, the duke does have a very fine countenance.”

“And an impossible character,” Holly replied, with a slight
flush.

“But that is true of all men,” Lady Louisa countered.
“Gentlemen are like fine-bred horses, my dear. You just give them their lead every now and then, in order to retain true control of the situation.”

Holly stared
, then caught herself, and gave a slight shake of her head. “It is all such a tricky game to play.”

“Oh, aunt, how can you
say such dreadful things!” squeaked Verity. “What will Holly think?”

“I should hope Holly will think sensi
bly about the best way to run her marriage. Now, what is all this about?”

“Well, it is just that Lord Myles has been so genteel to me – and he is
very handsome, and a grand philanthropist. But… there is another gentleman, though he appears to live more dangerously – and that makes him interesting, but would he make a fine husband? And yet when I saw him last, in the midst of disaster, he was so capable, so strong and confident…”

“Where does your heart lead you?” Holly asked carefully, taking
a sip of her chocolate and savouring the delightfully rich, slightly bitter flavour of it.

“I…do not know. My heart is floundering.”

“Well, then we must help you decide,” Lady Louisa said simply. “It will save you a lot of worry, my girl. After all, worry is very poor for one’s complexion.”

Strathavon woke before dawn and knew exactly what day it was. He lay there in the gloom, his eyes tracing the white ceiling overhead as he listened to birds beginning to chatter outside.

It was as though a leaden weight had been laid over his chest. Today was the anniversary of Maximillian’s death.

Needing time to think and make sense of all the chaos in his head, Strathavon headed to Piccadilly as soon as it was reasonable to be outside without wandering the streets like a wraith.

He
did not see Holly at breakfast, and tried to convince himself that that was a blessing, for she had that unmistakable way of throwing him completely off-kilter with just a smile, and he needed his mind clear on this of all days.

Strathavon by—
passed all the gentlemen’s clubs, finding he had no taste for them at present, and ignored all other diversions of that street, ducking into Hatchards Bookshop. Hatchards was a fine establishment and one that he had often visited with Maximilian.

It was a kind of refuge, and
it offered a quiet, sturdy comfort that always descended over him just from walking through the doors. He could linger there for hours sometimes, browsing, and enjoying the familiar presence of books.

A sign above the door informed
visitors that the place had been established in 1797 – the year Sylvester and Maximilian had first come to live in London after their days at Cambridge. They had indulged in the true spirit of coxcombery with a gusto that only a pair of young men free of all worldly restrictions could achieve.

His mouth curled
, remembering Max’s fondness for journals of travel and adventure. What would his brother have made of his new wife? He had a sneaking suspicion that they would have got on famously. He could just imagine them teasing him, or debating some absurd new undertaking.

*

When Holly returned to the house, head still full of Lady Louisa’s words about love, and Verity’s frustrating blindness to the possibility of her own happiness, Holly was surprised to hear raised voices coming from the parlour. She paused on the stairs, wondering about the cause of the furore.

The houseke
eper, Mrs Willan, sounded agitated. The other voice was young and terribly upset.

Holly paused a moment, listening.

“I am very sorry, miss, but we are not interviewing at present. And I do not think that a person of your –”

“Please, Mrs
Willan – I have been turned away from every door, and it is getting to be so cold out. Any position will do.”

Mrs
Willan sounded deeply exasperated. “I am sorry, Miss Anglesey – but I cannot bring disgrace to her ladyship’s household. This is a respectable house. All London has heard of your business with Lord Myles Wooley. It is a great shame, but I fear I am unable help you. It is not within my power to do so.”

Her voice sounded genuinely distressed
now, and Holly wondered what the fuss was all about. Lord Myles?

There was a creaking sound and
it appeared that the housekeeper was about to show young woman back to the door. “Here, my girl – this should at least buy you supper.”

There were footsteps and Holly watched as the two women walked to the door without having
seen her. The young lady next to Mrs Willan looked nothing if not utterly defeated and it broke Holly’s heart to see her hunched shoulders.

Wasting no time, Holly hurried
back down the grand staircase, doing her best not to lose her footing in her new slippers, which slid alarmingly under her as her skirts fluttered about her legs.

She arrived at the door
somewhat dishevelled, just as the housekeeper shut it.

Mrs
Willan gave her a bewildered look, which Holly ignored.

“Who was that person you were just speaking to, Mrs
Willan?”

“Person, Y
our Grace? Lucy Anglesey, you mean? She was only a lady’s maid, enquiring after a position – but she wasn’t at all suited.”

“W
ell, why ever not?”

“There is a… certain scandal attached, Your Grace. She was formerly of Lord
Myles Wooley’s household and she has been summarily dismissed due to… Well this is all very indelicate – I wouldn’t like to say.” The older woman looked uncomfortable.

Holly frowned.
“All the same, I should like to hear it.”

The woman hesitated,
then sighed.

“She may be
with child, madam, if the story is true – she allowed the young gentleman to steer her from the path of virtue. It is said that Lord Myles is not a very… considerate man, if you’ll forgive me, and the poor girl…. But never mind, it’s done now and no house in London shall have her.”

“You astonish me, Mrs
Willan. None at all? Well, that won’t do! It is hardly the girl’s fault if she happened to be seduced by an evil cad. Lord Myles, after all, has not lost his home and income, to say nothing of his name. I think I had better catch her before she is gone much further.”

“Catch
– ”

But Holly did not stay to hear
her housekeeper’s imprecations. She was already out of the door, where she quickly caught sight of the sole retreating figure. It was hard to mistake the shabby, faded red shawl.

Lucy Anglesey made
for a sad sight with slumped, thin shoulders, and a walk that spoke plainly of the trampled state of her spirits.

“Miss Anglesey!” Holly called out, hurrying after her.

The young woman stopped walking and glanced uncertainly over her shoulder. Her expression turned to utter astonishment as she caught sight of a duchess hurrying after her.

“Hello
, Miss Anglesey – I am told by my housekeeper that you came after a position.”

The girl executed a hast
y, startled curtsey. “Yes, Your Grace, but she was right: I am not suited for the post.”

Holly waved that aside with a gloved hand. “Don’t you think you had better let me be the judge of that?”

Lucy blinked, her expression caught somewhere between hope and confusion. It was obvious that she could not believe Holly’s words.

“Now, you have worked as an upstairs maid before?”

“I have lately been a chamber maid in the household of Lord and Lady Morcombe, but I was dismissed. His lordship’s brother… So you see I perfectly understand, Your Grace, why Mrs Willan could not appoint me. I have been dishonoured and you will not wish to taint your household with such matters. You have every right to dismiss me out of sight.” She didn’t quite meet Holly’s eyes.

Holly was aston
ished. “I won’t hear of it, Miss Anglesey. I absolutely won’t. The man is a vile scoundrel, and I am confident he will get his comeuppance soon enough. It is a dreadful tale, but you are not to blame. I am only relieved that you are unharmed otherwise, and I am sorry you have been the victim of one of his tricks. I would never think to punish anyone for being fooled in such a matter. And there will be no dismissals.”

“I do not understand.”

“Ah, but it is really simple. All the silly gossip is immaterial where your appointment is concerned,” Holly said “Now, it seems to me we had better be done with all this fuss about unsuitability and return indoors, before some grand personage sees the Duchess of Strathavon outside without a bonnet. Domestic matters are my concern, after all, and I say that you shall be appointed my new lady’s maid. Come, we shall see about your lodgings, and some breakfast.”

Lucy’s face lit up briefly at the mention of breakfast.
They proceeded back, past the white terraces.

“Lady Strathavon… I really don’t know what to say. I cannot begin to thank you for taking pity on me as you have done,” Lucy sa
id, looking at her with bright blue eyes.

Holly shook her head.

“Then it is fortunate that there is no need. I understand your sentiment, and we shall say no more of it. I only hope that you like cats, Lucy. Now tell me, have you always lived in London?”

As it t
urned out, Lucy had had a very sad childhood, having grown up in one of the charitable houses for orphans located in the east end of the city.

It had not been an e
asy life, but Holly was struck by the girl’s persistent desire to survive and make something of herself. Lucy, for her part, seemed astonished that a duchess had cared to ask.

With her unexpected
show of kindness to a complete stranger, Holly had unwittingly won the girl’s eternal trust and devotion.

*

That night, Holly and Strathavon had supper at the house. The duke looked tired and drawn, his eyes opaque and unreadable. Holly was sure she could feel pain and uncertainty radiating off him.

It was very difficult to imagine
what could have caused her stalwart duke to feel uncertain. She longed more than anything to heal his woes.

“Sylvester, something
is bothering you. What has happened?” Holly asked him quietly, her eyes intent on his face.

He sighed and loo
ked at her over his glass of burgundy wine, mouth curling into a faint and bitter parody of a smile. “There seems little point in obliging you, madam, to hear my useless regrets.”

“Oblige me none t
he less,” came the crisp reply. Holly would not play along with his game of melancholy. Whatever it was could not be so bad.

The duke
looked blank a moment, taken aback. He had come to learn that Holly often said the first thing that came to mind – where he was concerned, these things were often not very complimentary.

Her impertinence was
remarkable, and yet he liked her all the more for it. Did she really care to hear about his private torment?

And did she have the faintest inkling that
, aside from his memories, she was the unknowing orchestrator of all his turmoil?

He waved a dismi
ssive hand, as though he could scatter sorrow like a flock of pigeons.

“There
is a certain inexplicable charm in your company, my dear – I cannot understand it, but I own I find it most diverting.” He looked at her a moment longer, as though trying to make sense of an ungraspable sentiment just a smidgeon out of his reach.

Holly looked at him impassively
, waiting as she had often done with her siblings when she’d wanted them to own up to some disaster. Strathavon cleared his throat.

“I believe that I owe
you an apology. For a great many things. I ought not to have left you by yourself in the country, and I ought not to have been so completely unpardonable to you this Season. My only explanation is that I could not allow myself to feel anything for you, even as I saw love bloom in your eyes. It near killed me when I saw it die.”

Holly froze.
Die?
When could he possibly have seen that?

“How good of you to acknowledge your beastly behaviour, Your Grace.
But we will leave the question of love out of it for now, if you please. That is hardly a valid reason for abandoning me without warning as you had done.”

She had
remarkably large eyes, which were currently fixed on Sylvester in expectation of his next words, and he noticed that she had a remarkably pretty little nose, too. He did not dare contemplate her mouth lest he should decide to taste it for himself.

This was infuriating: it was only Holly, his Holly, and yet he was in her power as though she were Venus come before him.

“No, it is not valid at all. It was badly done, and for that I can only beg your pardon.”

She appeared to think about it, and he wondered what she would say next. Would she spurn him, d
ismiss him, laugh at him? He felt certain that this new Holly, the jewel of London society, did not need his pathetic apologies.

He examined her
eyes, her face, so delicate and lovely as the moon. His eyes took in her simple muslin gown. She always wore her palest, most innocent gowns when she was up to some dreadful scheme. Undoubtedly, she had every intention of toying with him.

She
looked up with an air of the most infuriating calm and even gave him a warm smile.

“Then you are pardoned, if you
really mean those words. I think that you do. But that is not what has been troubling you – or at least it is by far not the greater part of your troubles.”

Had
he quarrelled with Lady Charlotte? She wondered, feeling the familiar ache in her chest. Was that what made him look so despondent?

But no.
That wasn’t correct – his partiality could hardly be an attachment of the heart. She had never seen love in his eyes around that woman. Whatever connection lay between them, it was something else.

She wondered if he
would confide in her, and was pleased when he did.

“
Today… is the anniversary of the death of my brother. I cannot help but remember.”

Ah. Holly nodded gently, fighting the urge to leave her chair and go over to him in fear that he might cut her off again.