Deceiving the Duke of Kerrington (Ladies of Deception) (8 page)

Chapter 9

“Whoa, Tristan,”
Pierce called as he pulled back on the reins of his beloved black stallion,
bringing them to a halt. Elliot galloped up behind them, slowing his own mare
as well. They sat atop their horses in silence as they looked out over the vast
lands beyond Ridgecrest Manor. Rolling green hills stretched for miles, a
slight breeze wafted the scent of fresh rain and foliage up to their noses and
Pierce inhaled deeply.

“Do you ever
regret not doing things you always dreamed of doing?”

“Of course, we
all do.” Elliot tried to reassure him, hoping his friend would snap out of the
pensive mood he’d been in as of late.

“Right now I’m
regretting the fact that I never went to America.” Pierce turned in his saddle
to look at his friend, “What say we book passage and leave all of this behind?”

Elliot laughed,
“You can’t be serious. Didn’t all your travels throughout Europe sate your
appetite for such an adventure?”

Pierce shrugged,
“I thought so…until recent developments.”

“I know that
being leg shackled has gotten you feeling caged but running away will not solve
anything. What would you do once you were in America and had to forge a living
for yourself? And what would become of your mother and the Kerrington estates
and wealth? Oh that’s right, your weasel of a cousin Bartholomew would inherit.
That would surely please your tenants, not to mention the duchess.”

“You’re right of
course, I guess I’m just mourning the loss of love never known.”

Elliot snorted
in disgust, “Don’t speak of love. Few there be that find it and the rest of mankind
who so foolishly search for something so rare and near impossible to find will
only end up miserable when they don’t find the elusive prize.  You’re making
the right choice man, marry for convenience and to produce an heir, nothing
more. If your expectations are low you can’t possibly be disappointed.”

Pierce knew Elliot
was speaking from experience and his own bitterness but he couldn’t resist
asking, “Then why haven’t you conveniently found yourself a wife? I presume you
need an heir as much as I do.”

“Eventually I suppose
I’ll have to. Lucky for me I don’t have any parents breathing down my back
about the matter, thank heavens.” Pierce felt a pang of sadness in his breast
at the thought of his dear friend being an orphan. At least his parents hadn’t
both died at the same time like Elliot’s had so he was still left with a mother
to tie him to someone. And though he knew Elliot had tried to sound indifferent
about it all, he couldn’t help but feel that part of his detached air had
something to do with his parent’s loss.

They sat in
silence for some time, enjoying the view mother nature had created for them
before Pierce said, “Tell me what you remember about this Lady Noelle.” Though
he’d asked before, he kept hoping that Elliot would somehow be able to remember
something that would reassure him that he wasn’t marrying a complete ogre.

“Like I told you
before, I don’t know her well and I don’t remember ever being privy to any
juicy gossip about the girl so that’s good, though I suppose that depends on
how you look at it.”

“What does she
look like?”

“Oh, you mean is
she ugly?”

Pierce hadn’t
wanted to sound shallow, but he couldn’t help admitting to his own curiosity on
the subject. “Well I suppose it would be too much to expect her to be
beautiful, but is she even remotely handsome?”

“I wouldn’t go
as far as to claim she’s exquisite but I dare venture to say that you won’t
have to put a bag over her head before attempting to produce an heir.” Pierce
let out a loud laugh before Elliot shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly and
continued, “But from what I remember she’s very nondescript but I suppose
beauty is in the eye of the beholder.”

“Beauty fades
with time, let’s hope that I can at least stomach the chit and pray that she
isn’t some sort of spoiled shrew. I suppose the spoiled part is inevitable but
the shrew part doesn’t have to be, right?”

“For your sake I
sure hope so. I find it highly ironic that a man with your title and brooding
dark looks had to win a wife in a game of piquet. You know you could’ve had
your pick of any lady, don’t you?”

“So could you
and I don’t see you taking advantage of the opportunity.” Pierce said, trying
to turn the focus on Elliot instead of himself.

“Let’s not go
over this again. What say we race back to Ridgecrest Manor, see if you still
have it in you?” Before Pierce could answer Elliot had turned and galloped off
in a fury and Pierce had no choice but to follow. When Ridgecrest Manor came
into view they were riding neck to neck but at the last minute Pierce leaned
forward as he kicked Tristan in the flank and was able to pull forward and beat
Elliot by a mere head. He had forgotten how exhilarating a good race could be.

Laughing good-naturedly
they led their horses back to the stable before heading back into the house.
The duchess was waiting for them in the drawing room as they entered.

“Boys, do come
in and I’ll ring for tea, I have some things I’d like to discuss with you.”
Though they both would’ve liked to freshen up first they knew it was always
easier to just agree with whatever the duchess had in mind. They moved into the
drawing room which was decorated in shades of blue and ivory and sat
precariously on the dainty furniture that filled the room, feeling as if their
large frames could topple the furniture if they weren’t careful.  The duchess
lifted a gloved hand to her mouth to hide a giggle that threatened to escape at
the sight of the two virile young men sitting perched on her delicate furniture.
Oh what a picture they made with their matching dark hair and mysterious looks,
but while Elliot’s eyes were a striking pale blue, Pierce’s were so dark they
almost appeared black.

After she rang
for tea and everyone had been served, the duchess spoke, “Pierce I’ve decided
that I want to host a country party here at Ridgecrest Manor next week for you
to announce your engagement. I need you to help compile the guest list and of
course to inform your soon-to-be fiancé. Plus it’ll be the perfect opportunity
for us to spend a little time getting to know the girl, don’t you think?”

Pierce wasn’t
sure he liked the idea of having to spend time getting to know Lady Noelle
under his mother’s watchful eye. The situation would prove to be awkward enough
without her meddling, but he didn’t know how he could politely refuse without
hurting her feelings, so he said nothing and just listened as she chattered on.

“You must inform
Lady Noelle as soon as possible, I’m sure she’ll want to have a new gown made
up for the special occasion. And don’t worry about any of the planning, leave
the details up to me.” He’d fully planned on it.

Then turning to
Elliot she said, “And Lord Martineau, you will attend won’t you?”

“Of course, I
love a good country party.” Though he said it dryly, she didn’t seem to notice.

Setting her
saucer down she placed her hands in her lap, “Well now that that’s settled, you
best be getting back to London to meet your soon-to-be bride and inform her of
the upcoming event.”

Pierce swallowed
hard, though he had told Lord Brattondale he would call on Noelle in a week, he
had actually intended on that time frame being a flexible guideline and had
hoped to spend a few more days at Ridgecrest Manor before returning to London
and the fate that awaited him. But now that there was to be a party thrown in
their honor in a week’s time, he had no choice but to return promptly and meet
the girl who would become his wife.

***

“Oh Hope, I
can’t believe this is goodbye forever,” Noelle exclaimed as she pulled Hope
into a fierce embrace. The sun was still hours from rising but Noelle had to
escape the premises before a soul woke up and could discover her, though she
was disguised as Hope just to be safe.

Hope felt
herself getting teary at the goodbye. She had been with Noelle for nearly four
years and in many ways she had become a good friend to her, despite this latest
scheme that still made her uncomfortable. She tried to push away her feelings
of anxiousness and unease knowing that despite Noelle’s excitement to marry
Soren, there were many things she was sacrificing as well. She had to consider
herself lucky that she at least had had the opportunity to give her mother a
proper farewell. Noelle spent her last three days in London with her family pretending
that everything was as it appeared and had no opportunity to tell Devon or her
father goodbye, for her secret depended on their ignorance. If everything went
according to plan, they’d never know she had left their lives.

Hope handed
Noelle her reticule, “Are you sure I can’t wait to inform your father of my
supposed absence till later this afternoon? I mean, what if something happens
and you don’t go away with Soren? Surely you’ll want to come back and resume
your proper identity and then nothing will have had to change, I’d still be
here waiting for you.” She tried to voice her worries delicately, but she was
worried Noelle saw right through her.

“You’re not
implying that Soren may not have meant what he said, are you? He’s a man of
honor and he’ll keep his word, of this I am sure.”

Hope wished she
could be as confident. “I’m not trying to discredit his honor in any way, I’m
just trying to think of all the possible outcomes.”

Noelle softened
slightly, “No, it has to be this way. Father would wonder what took you so long
to come to him if you waited. Trust me, I’ll be sailing to America long before
then, rest assured.”

She began
walking towards the door and as she had one hand on the handle ready to pull it
open Hope called softly, “Be safe…and be happy.”

Noelle turned
and smiled over her shoulder, “I will. I owe all my future happiness to you,
for that I will be eternally grateful. Try to be happy yourself.” And with that
Hope watched her silently slip out of the door and out of her life forever.  

 Hope stood
staring at the door for what felt like an eternity, part of her anticipating
the moment when Noelle would return and exclaim the whole thing had been a
grand joke and that there was no way she could leave her privileged existence
behind. She didn’t know how long she sat and stared until she realized that
Noelle wasn’t coming back. She walked over to the big bed and wished she could
cuddle up under the thick covers and fall asleep but she knew that sleep would
only elude her. Instead she decided to go back to her own room one final time.
She still had to collect her writings and make a few adjustments in the room to
make it appear as if she had packed up and left with no thoughts of returning.
She also had to grab the note she had written explaining her hasty departure to
show the earl.

Walking into her
room she became nostalgic. She never thought she’d miss the plain quarters but
they had been home to her for the past four years, the one place in the world
she could go to have privacy and to just be herself. It saddened her to think
that in a short time there would be another lady’s maid sleeping on the lumpy
mattress, enjoying the view of Mayfair that the small window afforded, enjoying
long hours of rest and relaxation while she herself would be out at one society
event or another, uncomfortable and out of place and living a lie.

She quickly
grabbed her stuff and made her way back to her new room, shutting the door
forever on her past. She still had a few hours until the earl would rise and
start his day. She knew that it would appear odd if she went to seek out Lord
Brattondale too early in the morning so she had to bide her time until an acceptable
hour. She thought the time would drag but much to her chagrin it sped by
quickly, too quickly. Before she knew it, it was time to put the remainder of
their plan into motion—it was time to officially and permanently become Lady
Noelle.

Part Two

Chapter 10

Taking a deep
breath, Hope shakily opened the door leading into the hall. She poked her head
out and glanced back and forth to make sure no one was there before stepping
out onto the cold parquet floors. Her feet were bare and she had on a simple
white morning dress, her hair flowing freely down her back. She felt silly
being out and about in such disarray but it was an important part of the plan,
without her lady’s maid, Noelle wouldn’t have been able to properly dress and
ready herself for the day.

Hope began
walking tentatively down the hall, knowing that Lord Brattondale would most likely
be found in the breakfast room taking his morning tea. She dreaded going into
that part of the house, knowing there was no way she could go undetected—there
would be a surplus of servants scurrying about attending to their daily duties.
As she came to the corner that would take her down past the drawing room and
towards the breakfast room she straightened and took a steadying breath before
slipping into her role as a frantic Noelle who had just discovered her lady’s
maid had gone missing in the night.

Grabbing her
skirt she forged ahead at a hurried pace, attempting to look frantic. And
though she was only acting, she did indeed feel frantic but for entirely
different reasons. From somewhere behind her she heard a noise that startled her
and quickly averted her gaze. The moment she looked down she felt herself
collide with a solid mass, causing her to push back in resistance and trip into
the mahogany bench sitting against the wall. Before she could steady herself
she felt her back arch and reached her hands back to catch herself on the piece
of furniture that proved to be too close to the ground to offer any help and
immediate support.

Instead of her
hands coming in contact with hard wood of the bench, they flailed wildly as she
desperately tried to grab onto something, anything to keep her aright, but to
no such luck. She fell to the ground awkwardly with a thump, her left ankle
twisting unnaturally beneath her in the process. The sharp pain in her ankle
that accompanied her fall momentarily distracted her from her mortification.
She reached down and pulled up her skirt to inspect her foot, rubbing it to
ease the pain, oblivious to the stranger watching her every move.

Pierce sat back
and stared in shock. He had been waiting in the drawing room for a quarter of
an hour and was growing impatient with the delay. The butler had told him that
Lord Brattondale would be with him shortly but he had yet to grace Pierce with
his presence. When he heard a noise in the hall he had stepped out to see what
was going on when he felt more than saw someone crash into his chest. He then
watched in horror as the girl did an un-choreographed dance with the bench only
to finish by falling gracelessly to the floor in a heap of white muslin and
golden waves of hair.

Pierce had
reached forth to try and steady her but it had all happened too quickly that he
hadn’t been able to respond in time so he watched helplessly as the girl fell
to the floor. He immediately made to assist her to her feet but was distracted
by her motions when she pulled up her skirt to reveal a slender ankle and one
dainty foot. The appearance of that one bare limb had him mesmerized—it was a
provocatively feminine leg and he couldn’t seem to peel his eyes away.

He watched for a
second while the girl rubbed her foot before his brain seemed to kick into gear
and start working again. He squatted down next to her and cleared his throat.
The girl looked up sharply, seeming to become aware for the first time that she
was not alone.

“Oh! I apologize.”
She quickly pulled her skirt down, much to his regret, to cover the view he had
just been appreciating so fully. “I was just looking for my father.”

Pierce looked at
the disheveled girl in front of him with new eyes. Could this be Lady Noelle?
By father certainly she was referring to Lord Brattondale. He briefly scanned
her body before returning to look at her face. If this was indeed Lady Noelle
then Elliot had been wrong, terribly wrong, for this girl was not plain in any way.
Her long hair fell all around her shoulders in cascading waves of honey, tempting
him to reach out and run his hand through the thick locks. How had Elliot
described her? Nondescript. She was the farthest thing from nondescript he had
ever seen—her pale face was artfully arranged with full pink lips, a straight nose
and when he looked into her eyes he gasped. She had the most amazing eyes he
had ever looked into! They were the color of brandy and he couldn’t seem to
look away. He had a sudden desire to reach out and brush a wayward strand of hair
from her face, stopping himself before he did just that.

He reached for
her hand instead, watching as she stared at his extended hand before offering
hers in return. He took her hand and raised it to his lips, placing a soft kiss
to it before saying, “It just so happens I’m waiting for Lord Brattondale to
arrive. Let me help you to the drawing room where we can take a look at your
foot.” He made to help her to her feet and watched as she grimaced in pain.
Without thinking he scooped her into his arms and carried her into the drawing
room, depositing her gently on a rose damask settee.

“Thank you but
that was hardly necessary, I’m sure I could’ve managed the few feet it took to
get in here.” Hope felt her face burn with embarrassment. She looked up into the
dark eyes of the stranger and couldn’t believe she had allowed him to hold her
in his arms, but then again, he hadn’t given her much choice in the matter. She
looked down at her hands resting in her lap, mortified that he was seeing her
dressed so indecently. Who was the man anyway?

Before she knew
what he was doing he was kneeling before her, reaching to take her injured foot
into his hand. She gasped and tried to pull back but his grip was firm and
unyielding.

“What are you
doing?” she squeaked, highly unnerved by the feel of his large hand on her bare
foot.

“You took a bad
tumble and I think you may have sprained your ankle. I think you should take it
easy and stay off of it for awhile. Of course I’m no doctor, it’s merely a
suggestion.”

Pierce continued
to inspect her ankle, sure that it wasn’t hurt beyond a minor sprain but
unwilling to take his hands from her soft, smooth skin, despite the indecency
of the gesture.

Finally Hope
pulled back, “That’s quite enough, thank you.” She waited as he stood once
more, noting his impeccable attire—he was dressed to perfection in tan breeches
that accented long, muscular legs. She briefly noted that one of his thighs was
almost as thick as her waist before continuing her observation of his attire;
he wore a dark waistcoat and jacket with an expertly tied cravat that appeared
even starker next to his dark skin. Every inch of him looked flawless. She
noticed how perfectly his jacket was tailored to fit snuggly across his broad
shoulders without appearing too tight.

The stranger
seemed to find her appraisal of him humorous as he watched her with one eyebrow
cocked. When her eyes came to settle on his face he smirked, “See something you
like?”

Her face flamed
once more. She would never admit to him that she found his dark, roguish looks
wildly appealing. He was a magnificently made specimen, something her wildest
imagination couldn’t have conjured. Instead she took the offense, “I was just
wondering who you might be and what you are doing in my house?”

“Allow me to introduce
myself. I’m Pierce Chadwick, the Duke of Kerrington. And who might you be?”
Though he was almost positive he knew he still had to ask.

Hope gasped, her
eyes widening in alarm. So this was the Duke of Kerrington, the man she was now
expected to marry in Noelle’s place. Her palms began to sweat and her thoughts
raced. She had pictured a stodgy middle aged duke, not an outrageously handsome
man with a wicked glint in his dark eyes. How would she ever be expected to be
wed to such a man?

While her thoughts
were racing the duke asked once more, “May I ask who you might be?”

“Oh! Pardon me your
grace, I just didn’t expect…I mean, I thought that…oh forget it. I’m Lady
Noelle.” It felt odd referring to herself as someone other than Hope but she
knew from here on out that Hope was dead to her and that Lady Noelle would be
her only identity.

Though he had
expected her to confirm his suspicions that she was indeed Lady Noelle, he
found he was still partially dreading that he might be mistaken and that she would
end up being a younger daughter or cousin. He was at once relieved and oddly
delighted until he remembered she was just another spoiled lady of the ton,
most likely with nothing more to offer him but a pretty face. Not that he’d
complain, at least luck had favored him with a beautiful future wife.

Hope watched as
Pierce took his turn appraising her, feeling as if she was a horse on display
at Tattersall’s and he was deciding whether he liked what he saw enough to
purchase. Unfortunately for him, and much to his own doing, whether he liked
what he saw or not, the purchase had already been made.

Being
scrutinized by the duke was making her squirm and finally she had had enough of
his piercing gaze raking her body and she snapped, “Like what you see?”

Pierce let out a
sonorous laugh, “Whether I do or not is of no consequence now, I fear it’s past
time for me to be picky—I’ve won you fair and square and I’m much too honorable
to back out of the deal now. I suppose we’re stuck.”

The arrogance
and brashness of his statement made any positive impressions she had formed of
the duke vanish, being replaced by the opinion that Noelle had been wise to
flee this marriage while she had a chance for real love and happiness, highly
doubting she would have ever come to love the conceited Duke of Kerrington.

When she finally
spoke she did so through gritted teeth, “I’m not exactly impressed with you
either but I wasn’t the one foolish enough to play for your hand in a silly
game of chance. You were, after all, the one who misused his agency to gamble
with both of our futures. Pardon if I very much agree with your assessment that
we are indeed stuck, as you so inelegantly put it. At least you had a choice,
whether you chose honorably or not I suppose is a matter of opinion and for now
I’ll keep mine to myself.” 

“I beg to
differ, I think you just made your opinion known.” He snapped back, unsure of
what else to say to defend himself. It rubbed him wrong that he couldn’t
completely disagree with her and that she had indeed pegged him right, but he
was much too proud to play the fool and admit the error of his ways to himself,
let alone her.

“Very well, then
there won’t be any pretenses between us, that’s a relief.” She quipped though
she felt like a hypocrite for saying it when she knew there would always be a
bigger secret between them.

They sat in
silence, avoiding each other’s gaze until the sound of silence became so loud
it was deafening. Hope fiddled with her skirt, giving her hands something to
do, keeping her eyes downcast to avoid having to look at the duke.

Pierce was the
one to finally break the silence, “You act as if marrying me is akin to facing
the guillotine. Is the prospect of being my wife really that unappealing?”

Hope had to hide
a smile behind her hand at his outburst. Apparently he was used to women
fawning over him and the thought that the very lady he was practically
betrothed to was not impressed with him obviously perturbed him greatly.

“Let’s just say
it wasn’t a choice I would’ve made for myself.” She replied honestly, knowing
full well that she hadn’t made the choice to pose as lady Noelle and marry the
insufferable duke, though if things would’ve been different and she really had
been born a lady, who’s to say she wouldn’t have chosen someone like the Duke
of Kerrington? His dark hair and chiseled features attracted her and she had a
hard time looking at him without remembering the thrill she had felt as he
caressed her ankle with his large hands or his masculine smell as he held her
against his hard, broad chest. But then she remembered his arrogant manner and
she immediately decided that she would never have chosen to be tied to a
conceited, vain aristocrat on her own.

Pierce leaned
back casually against the wall, trying to mask his irritation at her words, “I
suppose you think you could’ve made a more advantageous match than marrying a duke?”

“Ha!” she said
flailing a hand in front of her, “A duke, an earl, a marquis, none of that
matters to me. The measure of a man is his honor, not his title.”

“If your taste
is so exceptional, than why haven’t you made your own match by now? Let me
guess, no gentleman can measure up to your exacting standards?” he asked
acerbically.

There was a
pregnant pause before Hope finally answered, “Perhaps I have yet to meet a man
that—thrills me.” She inwardly winced, having no idea where that had come from.

“Thrills you?”
he barked, and before she knew it he was sitting next to her on the settee
making her feel small next to his overpowering frame.

His face was
inches from hers and she could feel his warm breath on her face as he spoke,
“If you’re looking to base a marriage off thrills alone, this union might not
be completely hopeless. If there’s one thing I can deliver, it’s thrills.” And
with that he took her head into his hands and pressed his lips to her own.