Lady Adventuress 01 - His Wayward Duchess (24 page)

“Do you not wish to remember?”

The duke downed his wine, and a footman came forward out of the shadows to
refill his glass. “I am not at all certain I deserve to. We…did not part on very good terms before he left to return to the fleet.”

“Oh, but you do, you do!” Holly exclaimed, eyes bright with the feeling that had swelled in her chest. “It is so clear that your brother was dear to you. How can a quarrel, no matter how unfortunately timed, nullify years of trust and brotherly affection? And all the work you have put into Pontridge – he would have been proud.”

Strathavon felt his heart clench at the passion with which she had flown to his rescue. Was this what his life with Holly could be? Someone who was always there to trust him to the ends of the world, to look at him with eyes full of such unbelievable confidence?

“Ah, Pontridge.
I cannot help but wonder if I would have been a better duke, had I expected it from the first,” Strathavon said with a slightly bitter laugh.

Holly blinked, surprised at this vulnerable bitterness. “I have recently learned that it is never too late to become what you might have been, or what you wish to be
,” she said to him quietly.

S
he reached out and touched his arm gently, as though afraid that their sudden intimacy would shatter like crystal. The warmth of his arm sent a pleasant shiver through her and she could hear the blood pounding in her ears.

“I… Th
ank you,” said the duke, his rich, deep voice like a balm upon her heart. Two such simple words, and yet there was so much more to be found beneath the surface.

She returned his
thanks with a smile, and reluctantly withdrew her hand, taking her own calming sip of wine.

“I rather forgot. I was about town today, and I saw a
trifle I thought you might like,” the duke said casually, producing a little wooden box from the pocket of his immaculate coat, and presenting it to Holly across the table as though he were merely passing her a dish.

The box itself was a magnificent polished mahogany, inlaid with gold and pearl. Holly opened it carefully, wishing to keep this moment forever in her memory – the nearness of him and the slightly flinty expression in his eyes
, which belied some nervousness at her reaction to this unexpected gift.

Speechless and full of a fluttering trepidation,
Holly opened the pretty box. What would have prompted Strathavon to buy her a gift?

Inside, on a lush blue silk lining, was a pair of lovely Perpignan garnet drop earrings, set in gold surrounded by clear diamonds, like
dewy petals on a flower. Holly recognised them instantly – they were much in vogue, and sported by ladies of the finest taste.

The garnets had a unique
, pink hue – she had never thought to own such beautiful, distinctive pieces. They caught the candlelight, and almost appeared to light up from within.

“I do hope you find them pleasing?
” her duke asked quietly. In those words, Holly read everything she needed to know about the gift.

“Very
,” she said, with a shy smile. “They are breathtakingly lovely. Thank you. But I would hardly call them a trifle.”

When she smiled
into his eyes, the duke felt warmth spread through his heart.

“Ah, but they are compared to you.”

Holly’s startled eyes met his and she felt her throat tighten unreasonably. The earrings were very beautiful but it was the thought and the gesture that had really touched her.

“They are beautiful. Thank you,” she
repeated softly, reaching out to touch his hand for the second time that evening. That simple touch seemed to send a current through them – and his eyes grew more intense as he watched her face.

“You’d better try them on, th
en,” he said a little hoarsely.

She nodded, still caught in the strange dreamy haze that
enveloped them. Holly carefully removed the filigree earrings her mother had given her the previous Christmas and laid them in the box.

As he watched her, Strathavon felt that
he knew exactly what enchantment felt like. The sparkle of the stones perfectly matched that of her eyes.

*

The more time Holly spent observing the interactions between Sir John and Verity, the more she felt certain of the perfection of the match. Provided that Verity were persuaded to ever truly notice Sir John amongst the imaginary heroes she longed for.

Lord Myles was currently her most favoured swain, because she thought him to be heroic
and generous.

Fuelled to greater dislike of the man by what had happened to Lucy, Holly longed very much to tell her friend the truth about this apparent philanthropist. But she knew very well that matters of the heart required a lighter touch.

“I am confident that she will lose
all regard for him,” Holly confided in Lucy, when the maid was helping dress her hair for a walk in the park. “It merely wants a push in the right direction. Some way to shatter her illusion of that nefarious man.”

“I hope that you are right,
my lady. Miss Dacre has ever been a very kind person, and she does not deserve the unhappiness of such a match.”

Since having found a new home in the Strathavon household,
Lucy seemed to have come into herself. Her shoulders were not as stooped, her complexion rosier, and her eyes grew fractionally less despondent by the day. Holly hoped very much that a day would come when the memory of Lord Myles Wooley’s betrayal would cease to affect her at all, though she supposed that that would take a lot longer.

“You ought to wear your warm spencer,
Lady Strathavon. It has been raining and it is very chilly out,” said Lucy, finished with Holly’s hair.

“Not to mention dreadfully muddy. Yes, thank you
, Lucy, a longer spencer will do very well. The blue velvet, I think.”

In fact, the blue velvet
did a very fine job of keeping Holly warm for the walk, though it was a lot less useful when it came to mud. Verity had insisted that they take one of the wooded paths instead of the wide avenues, because they felt so much more the thing for adventure.

Holly had to
wonder at her own propensity to get mud splatters all over the hem of her gown when Verity, walking ahead with Miss Sanford, endeavoured to look so tidy. They were talking about the war and Miss Sanford’s brother, who was at the front. Lord Myles walked just behind them, while Holly and Sir John brought up the rear.

“I do think the avenue might have been a better choice,” the baronet said, helping Holly step over a m
ossy patch in her slippery shoes.

“Yes, I agree – but one can hardly fly in the face of adventure,” Hol
ly replied, tucking up a chestnut curt that had come lose.

“Ah, yes – adventure. I’m afraid I have once again failed to be a figure of grand romance,” said her companion. He inclined his head to where their friends had
come to a stop. Lord Myles used a fallen stick to demonstrate a fencing manoeuvre while his companions giggled at his rakishness, hands delicately over their mouths.

“
Avaunt! Just like that. Do you see, Miss Dacre? It is the best way to secure an instant victory.”

“Oh
, how can you, Lord Myles,” said Verity with a flush.

“But why ever not, sweet lady?
It is just the thing to win an engagement. Unless one has agreed on pistols, of course.”

“I will confess to you, Holly, that I have never had occasion to wield a pistol at dawn,” the baronet
said quietly, watching the proceedings.

“I didn’t th
ink so. But then, neither has Lord Myles, I’d wager.”

Sir John looked at her directly.
“No? But he just demonstrated –”

Holly shook her head. “My brother Tom has the best sword hand in the navy, and on
e learns to notice a thing or two. Lord Myles has a stance and technique fit only to tread the boards – I’m afraid that his style is purely theatrical. Whatever else he may or may not know about swords, if he fought like that at a dawn engagement, he would be dead within minutes. Flair is not enough to keep a fellow alive.”

“I own, Lady Strathavon, you are a fount of
the most astonishing knowledge,” her friend laughed. “And kindness.”

Another burst of giggles broke into their conversation. Lord Myles had convinced a flushing Verity to hop over a fallen log instead of circling around it, extending a hand to help her over her obstacle.

“He’s very surreptitious, isn’t he? And I am the one meant to be playing the rake,” Sir John commented dryly.

“
A blackguard, yes. Oh dear,” said Holly, “That log is slippery and her boots –”

Verity r
ested her weight on the log, balancing a moment as she accepted Lord Myles’s hand to step down, when suddenly her ankle turned, shoe slipping off the log as the young lady crumpled into a heap.

“Miss Dacre!” W
ith a cry, Sir John rushed to her side, just as Lord Myles hopped back over the log.

“I say, Miss Dacre, are you hurt?”

Holly hurried over, doing her best not to slip on the soggy path as the gentlemen helped her friend to her feet. Miss Sanford stood out of their way with a horrified expression on her face.

Verity’s
countenance was stark with pain and surprise as she held on so Sir John’s arm. Her wide blue eyes were welling up with unshed tears.

“Can you put any weight on your foot?” Holly asked her friend.

Verity tried, and gasped, shaking her head. “I don’t think I can.”

“D
o sit down, Verity! We must have a physician,” said Miss Sanford.

“No good will come of sitting down in this damp,” Sir John said firmly.

“But surely, you don’t mean for Miss Dacre to walk?” said Lord Myles, while surreptitiously checking his fob-watch.

“I should think
not.” With those words, Sir John swung Verity into his arms.

“Oh!”
gasped the young lady, staring into his face with an expression of such surprise that her injury must have been temporarily forgotten.

Her face flooded with colour at
this daring show of gallantry. Or was it the gentleman’s proximity that so affected her…

“I say, that’s quite a liberty there,
Compton,” said Lord Myles a little snidely. “Miss Dacre might mistake your intentions.”

Sir John ignored him.
“Holly, if you wouldn’t mind walking ahead – I trust you to keep the best footing. Lord Myles, if you would be so very good as to help Miss Sanford, lest she should also slip?” His voice was full of barbs when he turned to his rival.

Holly gave her friend an appraising look, before nodding and proceeding on ahead. She had never before seen him show such
a strength of character. In fact, not even Lord Myles dared say a thing in protest as the party proceeded on their way. For a moment Holly almost believed the stories she’d told Verity about Sir John’s piratical character.

Th
ey made it back out of the park without any further mishaps, though their procession had drawn a few curious looks from the few other souls taking the air.

Lord Myles glanced at his fob again. “Well now, Compton, since you already have the
situation so very well in hand, I trust the present company will pardon my departure – I seem to have recalled an appointment at White’s with my brother, and I really must be punctual. You know the sort of thing. Dear Miss Dacre – I can but hope that you feel imminently better. I shall blame myself forever if you take poorly – for it was my fault entirely that you slipped!”

“N
ot at all,” said Verity dazedly, eyes still fixed on Sir John.

Lord Myles seemed to bristle
at this inattention. “You are the soul of kindness. I shall call on you tomorrow, if you would but deign to receive me,” he said with his most dazzling smile.

“Yes, just as you would,” she murmured, gaze flickering to his face briefly and then away again.

“Excellent. Well, good day then. Compton, Lady Strathavon, Miss Sanford.” With another perfect bow, he was gone.

“I think I
had best take Miss Dacre home in my carriage,” Sir John said to the ladies. “The seat should be comfortable enough for her ankle.”

Holly gave him a wide smile. “Then shall I
drive you home in mine, Miss Sanford?”

“
Yes, that would be very kind, Lady Strathavon.”

“Good,” said Holly briskly
, turning to her injured friend. “I will come and see how you are feeling after I have driven Miss Sanford home, my dear Verity – but I can see you are already in the very best possible hands.”

“Yes, I think I just might be,” Verity said, her wide eyes meeting Holly’s carefully observant ones. The tears were gone, to be replaced by a strange wonderment.

As Sir John helped Verity into his curricle, Holly directed Miss Sanford to her own waiting Phaeton.