An Unlikely Duchess (26 page)

“Not as much as I’d like to,” came the bitter reply. Sarah was confused by his response. There was something odd about the man to be sure. She’d had enough.

“I’ve had enough of this. Drive on,” she ordered. But before the driver could move, the man had taken hold of Sarah’s lower arm.

“How dare you,” she screeched. “Unhand me immediately.”

Her driver had jumped down from his seat and was rushing round to remove the odious creature from Sarah’s notice.

But the man easily pushed him off and turned back to Sarah.

“Seems to me that the lady has slighted you and you do not strike me as a woman who likes to be crossed.” This certainly got her attention, the anger at Rebecca’s treatment of her still very much present.

“No, I am not” she agreed.

“Now,” he continued while Sarah gestured for the driver to return to his seat, “I do not want those two together any more than you do.”

“What the devil would you know about what I want?”

“I have eyes, my lady,” was his only response.

Sarah looked him over again. What the devil was going on here? He was far from gently bred and she could not imagine the snooty Lady Rebecca having anything to do with him. But, clearly there was
something
going on here and Sarah was intrigued.

“I cannot be seen talking to you here,” she finally uttered, “God knows what people would think.”

Sarah missed the curling of his lip at this statement.

She continued on, oblivious.

“Follow me to my house in Chelsea. My man will give you the address.”

Without another word, she turned away and waited for her driver to finish with him so they could move. She’d hear what the fellow had to say before deciding what to do with him.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Some nights later the sisters made their first visit to Almack’s. The dowager was not only in constant possession of vouchers, but was bosom friends with several of the patronesses. The girls were extremely excited about it, not in the least because Madame had arrived in person to deliver the girls’ gowns for the evening.

Rebecca’s was a masterpiece of cream silk which hugged her form. It was daring but far from vulgar and Rebecca loved it.

Madame had, in fact, delivered all but one of the gowns the girls had ordered, stating that their final ball gowns were not yet finished.

Her work was exquisite. There was no other word for it.

Caroline’s dress was a confection of palest pink chiffon, which made her look softer and more feminine than usual. Her maid had even arranged her hair in a softer style, in keeping with the silhouette of the dress, and the overall effect was stunning.

“Caroline,” breathed Rebecca when they met in the drawing room, “you look like a fairy princess.”

Caroline giggled,
giggled
and flushed happily.

“Thank you, dearest. I must admit when I first saw it I thought it was a trifle girlish but it really is beautiful.”

“
You
are beautiful,” corrected Rebecca fondly.

Rebecca’s looks had always drawn notice quicker than Caroline’s because she was darker than most young ladies of the
ton
but growing up she had always envied Caroline’s hair like spun gold and her icy blue eyes.

“Especially,” she continued mischievously, “your hair, which puts me in mind of the sun in springtime.”

The sisters were still laughing when the dowager entered the room, declared them both to be equally beautiful and swept them out to the carriage.

Rebecca tried not to look for Edward the moment they arrived. She had seen little of him since the day in the park and her emotions swung between worry, disappointment and anger at herself for being worried and disappointed.

Really, this business of being in love felt like nothing more than a constant headache!

Immediately after they were announced, the dowager took them to meet the patronesses themselves. Rebecca was slightly worried since Caroline had spent the morning explaining the intricacies of the rules of the
haute monde.

Apparently, Rebecca should not have waltzed at the Marsh’s ball the other night. Waltzing should only be considered after it had been deemed acceptable by one of the patronesses of Almack’s.

“But,” Caroline reassured her, “I am sure there is nothing to worry about since the dowager is sponsoring you and gave you permission. And really, who is going to argue with the Dowager Duchess of Hartridge?” she asked laughingly.

“Er – nobody?” Rebecca guessed.

“Well, of course nobody! The dowager is above reproach. Hartridge wives have always been perfection personified. They do not break the rules. I am sure there will be no adverse consequences.”

Rebecca thought miserably that Caroline could have said nothing more to convince her that Rebecca was definitely NOT Duchess of Hartridge material, though she did not really need convincing on that score. Still, the whole fuss seemed ridiculous to her.

“Caroline, it was just a dance! What possible consequences could there be?”

“Becca, do you remember Lady Louise Trent, the Earl of Donbury’s daughter?”

Rebecca racked her brain.

“No.”

“Exactly!” Caroline exclaimed. “That is because she waltzed for an entire Season without having even
attended
Almack’s, let alone gained permission to dance.”

“Oh my God,” Rebecca was horrified, “you mean they
killed
her?”

“What? Do not be ridiculous! She lives at her father’s country estate. Engaged to a local vicar so I am told.”

“Oh,” Rebecca was vastly relieved. “So then, what is the problem exactly?”

“Did you not hear me? She is an earl’s daughter.”

“Yes?”

“She is marrying a
vicar.”

“So?”

Caroline huffed a sigh of frustration and refused to continue with the conversation.

Although Rebecca did not think of marrying a perfectly respectable vicar as a punishment, the moral of the story was clear. One simply did not offend the patronesses of Almack’s!

The dowager greeted the ladies warmly then drew the girls forward.

“May I present Lady Caroline Carrington and Lady Rebecca Carrington, daughters of my dear friends the Earl and Countess of Ranford?”

Caroline curtsied beautifully and Rebecca followed suit, hoping to impress the formidable group before her lest she be shunted into obscurity for the rest of her days.

Rebecca watched helplessly as several pairs of eyes looked her over thoroughly. She was beginning to think that obscurity sounded like a holiday.

Finally, one of the ladies, and in her panic Rebecca forgot which, addressed her.

“I believe you danced a rather sensational waltz with our dear duke, Lady Rebecca.”

Rebecca froze. What should she say? It was hardly sensational; it was just a damned dance!

“I did, Lady—” she froze once again. Oh God! She could not remember the name! Her mind was a total blank. Just as she was beginning to hyperventilate, a voice sounded from behind him.

“How goes my favourite coven tonight?” sounded Edward’s deep baritone. Rebecca could have kissed him.

She breathed a sigh of relief as the ladies chuckled at his wicked question.

“Edward, my dear boy. How nice to see you.”

It appeared that the duke was a favourite of the gathered ladies.

There were several moments of chit chat during which Rebecca was wonderfully ignored, then Edward turned to her, “My lady, may I request the pleasure of the first dance?”

Rebecca glanced at the ladies watching them closely, unsure if she was allowed to just accept or if she should wait for them to grant permission.

“Um,” she started a little hesitantly, giving somebody the chance to speak up, “I would be delighted, your grace. Thank you.”

She took his arm and turned to leave when they were stopped by a subtle “Ahem.”

They both turned back to face the little group. There was an awkward pause. Well, a pause which felt awkward to Rebecca, who was starting to turn scarlet under the collective scrutiny of the leading ladies of the
ton
.

Finally, the one whose name Rebecca could not remember spoke again.

“Be sure to dance the waltz together. My interest has been piqued.”

Edward smiled and bowed then, without another word, turned Rebecca gently and led her to the floor.

He chuckled softly as Rebecca heaved a huge sigh of relief.

“Come now, sweetheart. They’re not the worst in the world.”

“Easy for you to say, they clearly adore you.”

“Well, I am adorable,” he quipped.

“Hmm. Modest too.”

He grinned unrepentantly. The steps of the cotillion took them away from each other and when they returned Edward’s wide smile took her breath away.

Why did he have to be handsome?

“So, what news on Mr. Simons’?” Rebecca asked, more to take her mind off the overwhelming attraction she felt towards him than anything else.

“None, I am afraid. Though that is not necessarily a bad thing, I think.”

“Do you think then that I am worrying unnecessarily?”

“No, I would much rather you were vigilant. I have a man still making enquiries and another watching my mother’s house.”

He had someone watching the house? Rebecca frowned, she had not even noticed.

“Does that not seem a little excessive?”

Edward’s eyes darkened. “No, it does not,” he snapped. “I will not have anything happen to you.”

Rebecca told herself that his concern was nothing more than that of a family friend. That it did not mean anything other than he took his role as protector seriously.

If only she could get her foolish heart to listen.

The night went by without incident, save Rebecca’s pouring a glass of champagne over Sir Roger Dalton’s head. Caroline had been furious, naturally. But it wasn’t as if she’d done it on purpose. She’d been standing near the gentleman’s chair being accosted, yet again, by Lord Hadley. There was a moment of panic when the viscount, swaying slightly, had reached for her hand. Rebecca had jerked it back a little more forcefully than intended and her drink had ended up on Sir Roger’s head.

It hadn’t been the worst thing she’d ever done.

The audible curse afterwards was slightly less excusable.

Caroline had marched her to the dowager and begged that they be taken home. Rebecca had not even had a chance to say goodbye to Edward, so unceremoniously was she removed from the room. They had not had a chance to waltz.

To her relief, and Caroline’s consternation, the dowager had found the whole thing vastly amusing.

Their carriage pulled to a stop outside the dowager’s townhouse and the ladies alighted into the cool night air. Rebecca glanced around to see if she could spot Edward’s man but saw nobody. She’d never make a spy that was certain. Smiling a little to herself, she entered the house behind the dowager and her sister.

Standing in the shadows, George Simons watched her move into the house. Her jewels glittered in the moonlight and the light colour of her cape stood out in stark contrast to the darkness around her.

The longer it took to have her, the worse the pain was getting. That is what it was like. A constant, burning pain. The only thing that would relieve it would be to finally have her, to slake his thirst for her. He would not wait much longer. He could not.

His focus was interrupted by the arrival of another carriage. He saw the crest on the side and scowled. That damned duke was getting in his way far too often. It was time to put his plan into action. All he needed now was an opportunity.

****

The ladies had just settled in the drawing room to take a final cup of tea before bed when the door burst open and Edward marched into the room.

“What the hell are you playing at?” he shouted at Rebecca.

Predictably, without wondering
why
he was in a towering rage, Rebecca’s own temper immediately awakened.

“Me?” she screeched.

“Why did you disappear without even telling me? Do you have any idea what I was thinking when I searched and could not find you?”

He’d been worried about her. Rebecca began to soften toward him. Until—

“Besides, it is extremely ill mannered,” he continued piously.

And just like that, the flame of her temper caught again.

“Ill-mannered? You are joking. You forget, it seems, that I have borne witness to less than gentlemanly behaviour from
you
in the past.”

Since neither Rebecca nor Edward paid even the tiniest bit of attention to the other occupants of the room, neither was inclined to be careful about what they said lest they reveal more than they wanted people to know.

“Perhaps so,” Edward conceded grudgingly, “but do you not think that I should have been informed? Did you not think that I would assume the worst?”

Rebecca thought, albeit reluctantly, of what it would seem like to him to have her disappear without a trace especially in light of their conversations about Mr. Simons.

She softened again.

“‘I am sorry, Edward” Rebecca spoke softly now, not noticing that Caroline and the dowager almost fell over in shock. Caroline, because Rebecca had actually apologised for something and the dowager because her son, the stickler for rules and regulations looked delighted that Rebecca spoke his Christian name.

Rebecca continued on, oblivious to the sensation they were causing.

“We had to leave quite hurriedly and unexpectedly and there was no time to say goodbye to anyone. I should have known that you would worry. I am sorry,” she repeated.

Edward’s anger deflated. He was sure it took a lot for her to apologise since he guessed she’d rather stick pins in her eyes.

“Why the sudden departure?” he asked curiously.

His eyes narrowed as her face took on a pink hue, which told him she had either gotten into trouble or done something silly.

“I cannot remember,” she murmured and turned away to retake her seat.

“You cannot remember?” he questioned disbelievingly.

She shook her head in answer and raised her teacup to her lips.