Lady Eugenia's Holiday (6 page)

Eugenia felt quite dreadful, deeply sorrowed at her
lost love affair. How could he have done such a thing?

She expected him to at least slow and greet her. Or
perhaps to let a smile grace the cold, chiseled features on what he would, no
doubt, refer to as a face.

Especially after his memorable farewell. Eugenia
would have thought he’d call, or at least send ‘round a note, as soon as he
returned from his trip. Obviously she had been wrong about his regard for her.

Before this afternoon’s unfortunate incident on the
street, she had not seen the Duke for nearly a week. It seemed that not only
had her absence not affected him, he did not care that he had seen her by
chance.

Perhaps she would ignore him at The Castle
assembly, if he should attend. It seemed he felt compelled to attend every
social occasion possible. Eugenia was becoming quite cross with him. Rothford
treated her in such a horrid manner. He should mind himself or she would hand
him the mitten. That is, had they been engaged, which they weren’t quite
yet.
Perhaps she would not accept him when he offered for
her. No matter how much he pleaded and begged, she might not accept his
marriage proposal. It would certainly serve him right!

Eugenia had no intention of allowing Rothford to
ruin her evening. She dressed in her yellow
sarcenet
gown with a simple string of pearls and met Cynthia at the Old Ship for the
monthly full-moon masquerade, the last one before they departed for Brookhaven.

She and Cynthia set their dominos in place. Even
masked, it was not hard to tell who was whom after spending the last month
among the inhabitants of this fair city.

To her ultimate horror, Eugenia quickly identified
the swagger of the man heading in her direction. His eyes glared with their
familiar dark intensity. She did not turn away from his accusing stare, but
faced it.

Rothford came to a halt in front of her and
performed a deep, sweeping bow. She should have had the good sense to kick his
leg from beneath him.

“My lady, would you be
so
kind as to grace a stranger with a dance?”

Strangers are we now? Strangers with a tumultuous
past, strangers with an uncertain future.

It would be a very strange occurrence indeed if he
thought she cared to associate with him after the way he had ignored her.

Eugenia decided it was not a matter of what she
wanted. She had the distinct impression he would certainly do as he pleased and
would not take no for an answer.

She and Rothford had been the topic of numerous on-
dit
these past few weeks. The duke, on the other hand, did
not seem to mind the gossip, or he simply did not know.

She, at least, had the sense to avoid spurring
another wave of speculations. So, not wanting to cause a scene, she took his
arm.

Her hand tingled at his touch. It spread from her
hand to her shoulder and dissipated. How could someone she felt so much
loathing for make her feel like this?

Then she realized it wasn’t only her. He had felt
it too. Even though he was masked, Eugenia could see the effect of their casual
contact in his eyes.

He did care for her.

Perhaps there had been a valid reason why he had
not spoken to her on the street that day. Maybe there was another chance for
them.

Here, where it had started a month ago. Here, they
might rekindle what they had so sadly lost during his absence and the lonely
days that followed. Here, they might rediscover each other.

Rothford took her into his arms as a warm,
comforting smile spread across his face. He wanted this reunion as much as she.
Perhaps more. Eugenia detected a longing, a loneliness in him that needed
healing.

Although she remembered seeing the other guests in
a blur of color swirling about her. She could not recall hearing the music as
they danced. He pulled her closer, they spun faster and faster.

When they stopped, he politely stepped back and
placed a kiss upon her gloved hand. Before he left, he said, “I pray, dear
lady, that
we meet again.”

“So do
I
,” Eugenia
replied, playing along. His performance left her in awe that he could so
completely remove any doubts she had regarding his affection.

Eugenia stood with Cynthia after they had removed
their disguises. “It looks as if you two have settled your differences,” her
friend commented.

“When it comes to Rothford, I’m afraid I hardly
have the willpower to refuse him anything.” Eugenia looked back at the double
doors where he exited. Barely two minutes later, he returned through the very
same as if he’d been away conquering the world.

Immediately Eugenia felt warm, her reaction to that
vivid picture in her mind conjured by his presence. She found her escape on the
terrace. Part of her needed the fresh air, the remainder secretly wanted him to
follow. She wanted to be alone with him.

Rothford did not disappoint. He followed her.

This night rehearsed for the cold winter days to
come. Yet Eugenia felt none of the cooling breezes that delicately drifted past
her.

He stopped at a respectable distance and bowed his
head, addressing her. “Do you think I have a chance of gaining a pardon?”

“If I can forgive a stranger, I can most certainly
forgive you, Your Grace.” Had she not already offered the masked man an apology
on the dance floor? Now she needed to pardon the duke as well?

Gradually, he took two steps and closed the
distance between them. He ever so slightly tilted her chin with his fingertips.
“I do wish you would dispense with the ‘Your Grace.’ I much prefer that you
call me Rothford.”

Arm in arm they entered the grand ballroom. For the
remainder of the evening, she and Rothford rubbed along together famously.
Nevertheless, with their history, Eugenia could not help wondering how long it
would last.

She inquired about his plans for the weeks
preceding the Little Season. Eugenia wondered if he cared to join her party.
She was sure an invitation to the country gathering at Brookhaven could be
extended.

However, during the interval Rothford was expected
at Claremont Castle, home of the Earl of Claremont, elder brother of his
friend, the Honorable Donald Hamby.

Eugenia understood that the duke had certain
commitments and she would never dream of interfering. Rothford made her promise
him her first dance at
Almacks
. He also wanted to
partner her for the first waltz, when she was granted permission to perform it,
in London.

So very much could happen between now and then. At
the moment London seemed so very far away, not in distance but in time.

Eugenia could see how Rothford wished her to enjoy
her first, and most certainly her last, London Season as the incomparable. No
doubt he believed she should be free to visit the sights and enjoy the
attentions and favors of all the desirable young men. The duke must have known
all too well that her heart belonged to him.

Tomorrow, Eugenia told him, she and Aunt Rose would
leave for Brookhaven. He wished that she should enjoy herself in the country
and looked forward to their next meeting in Town.

Rothford led her onto the ballroom for the
quadrille. They took their starting position on the floor. The music began. The
dancers started.

At the present, Eugenia was in heaven.

Cynthia and her mother, Mrs. Penshurst, led the
caravan from Brighton to Brookhaven the afternoon after the masquerade ball. It
had begun to rain by the time Eugenia and her aunt boarded their coach and took
their place in line behind the Penshurst transport.

Before departing, there had been some discussion of
Franz traveling with Eugenia and Aunt Rose. Eugenia had been spared keeping
company with the musician, whom she adored, but would have dreaded occupying
the same vehicle for an extended period of time.

He was such a delicate man, probably subject to the
damp, and to watch him suffer when there was nothing she could do would have
been dreadful. Thank goodness Mrs. Penshurst insisted he ride with them.
Eugenia could only sympathize with poor Cynthia, trapped in a coach with Franz
for hours on end.

“Tell me, Genie dear, did you enjoy your time in
Brighton?” Aunt Rose continued, preventing Eugenia from answering. “I for one
believe your stay was more than successful.”

Eugenia remembered during her journey to Brighton
she had dreamed of a highwayman. Now, a month later, she had no need for
fantasies of imaginary rogues, she could focus on her handsome duke. How much
she had changed, how she had grown.

“You attended your fair share of balls, made more
than a handful of friends.” Aunt Rose pointed out what was obvious to Eugenia. “And
if I am not mistaken, you have formed a desirable attachment.”

“It has yet to be determined if the Duke and I have
formed an attachment.”

“Really? That is not what I have heard.” Aunt Rose
busied herself by rummaging thought her bag. “Although he may seem upstanding,
my dear, there is something I find disturbing about him,” Aunt Rose began. “That
duke is not without a blemished past.”

“What exactly do you mean?” Eugenia inquired with
piqued interest. She had never heard a contrary word about him from anyone.
Rather, it seemed he was in great demand among the ladies. Elusive they had
called him, for none of them could catch his fancy.

“It seems the Duke was not always a duke.” Aunt
Rose eyed Eugenia skeptically. “At one time, Thomas Mallick was only Lord
Thomas, a duke’s younger son. His elder brother, Edmund, inherited the title
when their father passed away some seven years ago.”

“Why are you telling me this?” The tormented tone
of Aunt Rose’s voice set Eugenia on edge more than the quaint tale. “It is not
so unusual that a younger brother should inherit an elder brother’s title.”

“You are quite right, my dear. I simply thought the
story was worth mentioning since you seem to want to know all there is about
him.” Aunt Rose removed her handkerchief from her reticule. “It seems the
circumstance of his succession was … It appears to me very questionable.”

The manner in which Aunt Rose brought up the entire
subject did not seem to sit right with Eugenia and it sent a chill down her
spine. Eugenia could think of nothing else after her aunt dozed off minutes
later.

Arriving at their destination, Eugenia found the
estate of Brookhaven to be large, lavish, and beautiful, ample size to
accommodate the guests in complete luxury.

Eugenia settled in a brightly colored, cheerful
room next to her aunt’s. But no amount of pampering or comfort could distract
her from what took place in her heart and in her head.

Her thoughts strayed. She missed Rothford terribly,
and it would be more than several weeks before she would see him again. How
would she bear it?

And that had to be why Eugenia felt so very
unsettled.

The next morning, the house guests met Lady
Penelope’s brother Randolph. Young Mr. Coddington had been in London this past
Season. Eugenia thought him handsome but somewhat nervous, tugging on his vest
and the sleeves of his blue superfine coat.

He must have been morbidly shy and somewhat
panicked when his sister introduced him to the sizable number of guests who had
invaded their home.

The presence of so many people caused him to
retreat to one of the small parlors where Eugenia observed he must have
succumbed to a fit of the vapors. Or did one call it something else when it
occurred to a man?

Mr. Coddington explained to his sister, when none
of the guests recalled seeing him in
Town, that
he was
far too withdrawn to ever approach anyone even after being introduced. Thus he
remained a stranger to all who crossed his path.

Penelope told them later, after Randolph had
excused himself, that he found the whole London social scene to be “horrific.”
and “frightful.” He never wanted to return to Town again.

After the journey to Surrey, the inhabitants of
Brookhaven spent more than a week of
evenings
playing
cards, making silhouettes, reading poetry, taking turns playing the pianoforte,
and singing.

Eugenia’s dear friends Penelope and Cynthia were
the worst offenders, encouraging one another to sing cheerful, syrupy sweet
love songs. Even with Herr Mueller’s magnificent accompaniment, Cynthia’s solo
sounded only tolerable. It was enough to cause one to go mad.

Finally, Lady Coddington arranged an afternoon
trip. Three coaches conveyed the guests into Haslemere, the local town. After
some shopping, they stopped for lunch at The Goat and Goblet. When their small
group exited the establishment, Eugenia, the first to step out onto the
walkway, was almost run down.

The man who nearly crashed into her should have
been watching where he was going. She might have given him a proper set down if
it had not been for his odd reaction to her.

He stared into her face with complete recognition
and exclaimed, “I beg your pardon, Lady Eugenia.”

Eugenia, of course, was upset at the mishap but
this fellow was not known to her and his apology—using her name—had left her
quite speechless.

Then, out of nowhere, the Duke of Rothford appeared
and took the distraught fellow by the arm and off they went.

That was not well-done of either of them at all.

“Was that not the Duke of Rothford?” Cynthia
stepped out from behind Eugenia. She was the only other person who was able to
catch a glimpse of the duke.

“I believe it was,” Eugenia said, still recovering.
How strange they should run into each other and how ungracious Rothford had
been not to have paid his respects.

It was beyond all things peculiar.

Returning to Brookhaven, Eugenia left the company
of the other guests to take a turn about the garden for some air to clear her
head. Given the time to mull about what the Duke had said to her before they
parted Brighton, she wondered how it came about that he was here?

Then she realized how Rothford’s quick reaction
removed the young man before he could say anything further to her. The Duke had
not remained long enough to see her for himself and could, quite possibly,
regret his action.

Then, finally, it occurred to Eugenia that the
young man who nearly ran into her was the one she had seen before and heard
referred to as Foster.

Ten or so minutes had passed before Mr. Coddington
joined her on the garden path. They settled into a comfortable conversation.
Apparently he found Eugenia an amiable companion and felt at ease, which led
her to ask him if he had heard of Claremont Castle. He told her it neighbored
Brookhaven and went so far as to point out exactly the direction.

Rothford probably had no notion the two estates
were in such close proximity. Eugenia felt certain if he had known of her
presence, the accidental meeting would have had an altogether different outcome.
He would have made himself known to Eugenia and lingered in the village for
hours, perhaps even joining their party’s outing.

No doubt he would learn of her presence from
Foster, for she was certain the young man would relay the news of their abrupt
meeting. Nonetheless, returning to the house, Eugenia dispatched a note to
Claremont Castle and waited anxiously for the remainder of the day, fully
expecting to hear from Rothford at any moment.

Eugenia could not remain calm during dinner. She
must have been horrid company for the others, taking no more than a bite from
her plate. After dining, Mrs. Penshurst asked Franz to treat her guests to
several pieces on the pianoforte.

Unfortunately Eugenia was not in the mood to enjoy
his performance. Dear Franz’s last effort to uplift her spirits was an evening
stroll to which she had agreed but cut short, claiming a headache.

That night, Eugenia tossed and turned unendingly,
completely unable to sleep. Perhaps if she read something it might help her
fall asleep. At least it would allow her to pass the remaining hours until
dawn.

She rose from her bed, the chill moved through her
thin cotton set and she pulled her wrapper around her neck to keep out the
night’s air. After lighting a taper and heading down the hall, Eugenia
descended the staircase and strolled into the study.

Holding the candle before her, Eugenia saw there,
pressed close against the end of the bookcase and casement window, among the
drapes, stood a man. A man who was trying very hard to remain invisible.

Eugenia could not believe her eyes when she
realized it was Rothford!

She could see the very same surprise and delight in
his face when they looked upon each other. Truth be told, he was probably more
thankful that it had not been Earl Coddington who had discovered the unexpected
presence in his country home.

She set her candle on the table and ran to the Duke
with open arms. “You got my message!” They embraced. Eugenia had never been
happier to see anyone in her entire life. She was even more elated that he
shared her enthusiasm.

“Why do you think I’m here?” His informal attire
boasted a further reason why he did not wish to be seen by any other, for he
only wore a shirt and breeches.

He must have pretended to retire for the night.
Then he leaped out his bedchamber window and dashed headlong through the meadow
and into the night to Brookhaven to meet her!

“I am so happy you have come.” Eugenia held him
tight, overjoyed to see him. How could she have ever doubted his affection?

“How could I not?” he whispered. A nervous smile
crept onto his face. “Although, I admit, I am taking quite a risk seeing you
like this.”

Eugenia glanced at his attire. It did not offend
her. In fact, Eugenia found it quite enticing. His shirt lay unbuttoned around
his throat. He took her hands in his, drew her close, and placed a gentle kiss
upon her lips.

He was truly the romantic figure from her dreams.
How could she not lose her heart at the very sight of him?

“Rothford!” she gasped, realizing their
circumstance. “Please! We shouldn’t be alone … not here … not like this!” This
was not at all proper. If they were to be discovered, the plans for Eugenia’s
grand London wedding would be for naught.

As the man of her dreams, he would hold her
interests above his own. As expected, he froze at her alarm, realizing what she
said to be true, and pulled away.

“You’re quite right,” he said. “I forgot myself for
a moment.”

She straightened her thin
nightrail
and smiled with relief that he understood completely.

“If I should visit again,” he smiled wryly, “perhaps
I will act more in line with our stations.”

She regarded him in the dim candlelight. It was a
smile he performed when they were alone, only for her, during private moments
such as this.

One thing Eugenia had learned about him was that he
never allowed that sweet side of him to show in public. Perhaps he thought it
too undignified for a duke. That side of him absolutely enchanted her.

“Eugenia, what am I to do with you?” he whispered,
tracing her cheek with his finger.

Even though they stood separated by several inches,
Eugenia could feel their hearts embrace. They were truly kindred spirits. “I am
sure you will eventually discover, given time.”

He applied a warm kiss to her already glowing
cheek, then made his escape out the French doors, onto the terrace, and into
the darkness.

He was truly all wonderful things of which dreams
were made. And what Eugenia wouldn’t do to feel everything she had just felt
again! Her heart pounded, blood surged thought her veins. Every part of her
felt so alive when wrapped in his arms.

Perhaps tomorrow, Eugenia mused, she might lose her
way during the morning ride and find herself at Claremont Castle.

The next morning the five of them, Cynthia,
Penelope, Franz, Mr. Randolph Coddington, and Eugenia, headed out for their
morning ride as they had done each morning since their arrival. Reaching the
old log by the large oak tree on the hill, the designated return point, they
decided to venture out separately and race home.

As planned, Eugenia had an entirely different
destination in mind.

The group rounded the large oak tree, turned their
horses, and all took different routes back to Brookhaven.

Eugenia headed northeast for Claremont Castle. All
she could think of was capturing another kiss from Rothford. No doubt he would
be surprised and perhaps cross at first when he saw her. He might even scold
her for the impropriety of a lady paying a gentleman a visit. That did not
dissuade her, nor did she care.