The Duke I’m Going to Marry (Farthingale Series Book 2) (11 page)

In truth, Dillie liked Julia and would always consider her a part of the family. Her husband, Harry Farthingale, had died years ago in Napoleon’s war, and after a long period of mourning Julia had remarried. She seemed content in her new marriage, but had remained as close as ever to the Farthingale family. Dillie hugged her and received an equally enthusiastic greeting in response.

Another woman none of them recognized stood beside Lady Withnall. She seemed to be an old and dear friend of hers, for Lady Withnall was smiling broadly and appeared eager to make introductions.

As usual, the old harridan’s gaze shot straight to Dillie. “Ah, my dear. You’re just the one I was hoping to see.”

Never a good sign
. Dillie suddenly felt quite uncomfortable. Both Lady Withnall and her companion were staring at her intently. The pair looked like brilliantly colored birds of prey, dressed as they were in their dark silks. They sported matching egret feathers in their hair, and each was armed with a Spanish fan to cool herself as the ballroom began to warm.

Dillie wished she had thought to bring one along, for the heat of their gazes was quite suffocating. She glanced toward the open doors that led onto the terrace, resolving to escape into the Wakeford garden as soon as possible.

Daisy nudged her as Lady Withnall introduced the woman standing beside her, who turned out to be the dowager duchess of Edgeware.
Ian’s mother!
Her name, ironically, was Celestia. Yet there wasn’t a trace of heavenly kindness or warmth in the woman.

The dowager had Ian’s gray-green eyes, but hers held no brilliance. She had Ian’s honey-blonde hair, but hers did not appear natural. No doubt the strands had turned gray years ago, but dyes had been around for centuries and did wonders for those who wished to cling to their youth.

Dillie silently chided herself. Was she judging the woman too harshly?

There were no laugh lines at the corners of her mouth or crinkles of merriment at the corners of her eyes. This was a cold, bitter person who felt disappointed by life. Perhaps she had cause to be bitter, but Dillie simply didn’t know enough about her yet to form an opinion.

Rose took no time in lighting a fuse. “A pleasure to meet you, Your Grace. We know your son, and are quite grateful for the friendship he’s shown our family.”

“Friendship?” She arched a haughty eyebrow and waved her gloved hand in arrogant dismissal of Rose’s claim. “Then I doubt you know him very well at all.”

Dillie clutched her dance card a little too hard, crumpling it in her tightening fist.
Keep silent. Ian doesn’t need your protection.
“Oh, but we do,” Dillie couldn’t help but respond. “His closest friends are my brothers-in-law.” She nodded to Daisy and Laurel. “Lord Gabriel Dayne is Daisy’s husband. Lord Graelem Dayne is Laurel’s husband.”

Her sisters smiled back sweetly. She wanted to throttle them. Why weren’t they jumping to Ian’s defense?
Ugh!
Laurel never kept her mouth shut about anything. Why was she turning into a tight-lipped clam now?

“They also happen to be Lady Eloise Dayne’s grandsons,” Lady Withnall explained blithely.

“Of course, I know Lady Eloise. I hear her grandsons are charming boys,” Ian’s mother said, bestowing her own, cold smile on Dillie. “Both have turned out quite well. She must be awfully proud of them.”

Lady Withnall nodded. “She is, though they did worry her for a time.”

The dowager duchess nodded sympathetically. “My son’s doing, no doubt. He must have been a terrible influence on them, but they’ve moved on and bettered themselves.” She cast Daisy and Laurel smiles of acknowledgment. “Unfortunately, my son isn’t capable of improvement. It pains me to speak ill of him, but his latest scandal cannot be overlooked.”

“What scandal?” Julia—bless her—asked when all of Dillie’s sisters seemed to have grown mute.

Dillie shot each a glower, but they merely responded with mawkishly innocent grins. Oh, why had she allowed Rose to drag her to Lady Withnall’s side? No good would come of it. And why had she remained? She had legs, after all. She could walk away.

But she wasn’t going to do it. She
wanted
to stand here and entertain their gossip. In truth, her actions were unpardonable.

“Well,” the dowager began, her voice lowering. Dillie tipped her head forward and perked her ears. Ian would be livid if he knew what she was doing. She wouldn’t blame him if he never spoke to her again.

On the other hand, if there was a scandal attached to Ian, she needed to know about it. How else could she help him? Lady Withnall would surely spread the shocking details across London before the night was out and someone had to stem the damage. She was that someone, for Ian wouldn’t do anything to help himself.

The orchestra opened the dancing with a lively waltz, and the chatter in the ballroom grew louder as more guests arrived. Dillie moved a step closer to the two matrons, eager not to miss a word, though she knew Ian’s mother couldn’t be trusted to tell the truth. After all, she detested her son.

“Well, it’s no longer a secret, so I may as well speak of it.” The dowager’s eyes took on a keen brilliance, as cold and bright as the diamonds she wore. She cleared her throat, as though hesitant to reveal the latest scandal attributed to her own son, but her eyes gave away her delight. “He’s fathered a child and taken that child from its mother.”

Dillie and her sisters exchanged startled looks. In truth, she had expected to hear some nonsense about his dallying with a married woman. Or a complaint about his being tightfisted with her allowance. But this—this surprised her.

“The mother’s a nobody, but that doesn’t excuse my son’s actions. He simply wrenched the child from the poor woman’s arms, turning a deaf ear to her pleas.” She paused to heighten the effect, and appeared a little disappointed when no one uttered a disparaging comment. In truth, Dillie was in shock. Her sisters were as well. Not even Laurel could fashion a response. “Can one blame the poor young woman for what she did next?” she continued.

Rose was the first to find her voice. “What did she do?”

Ian’s mother shook her head and sighed. “It is never easy for a woman to lose her child, but my son showed no mercy. That is so like him. Cold, cruel. He abandoned her to fend for herself. She had nowhere to go, no funds or family to take her in. She’s dead now—”

Dillie gasped.

Daisy grasped her hand and gave it a little squeeze. She supposed the gesture was meant to calm her. Perhaps it was meant to convey doubt about the dowager’s tale, for what sort of mother spilled gossip to strangers about her own son? Dillie wasn’t certain about the reason, but she was glad for her sister’s touch. That was Daisy in a nutshell. The thoughtful middle child, the conciliator. Daisy also knew how hurtful lies about one’s honor could be, for she’d endured a tarnish to her own good reputation. Fortunately, Gabriel had seen beyond the lies and fallen in love with her. They’d had their happy ending.

She knew Ian would never have his happy ending, not if he continued on his current path. But how could she get him off that path? He didn’t trust women. She glanced at the dowager. Her eyes were avidly gleaming, as though preparing for another attack.

She sighed inwardly. This woman had shaped Ian, doomed him to loneliness.

“My son will deny responsibility for her sad fate, just as he’s denied responsibility for the other deaths he’s caused.”

“Other deaths?” Dillie repeated, her entire body now numb.

“Celestia, enough,” someone angrily spoke from behind Dillie. She didn’t need to turn around to recognize Eloise’s gentle but commanding voice. That she’d referred to the dowager by her given name, and not
Your Grace
or other courtesy title, meant she was beyond angry. She was livid.

“Lady Dayne, so nice to see you.” Rose leaned forward to buss her cheek.

Dillie did the same, adding a quick hug, for she was glad to have her join them and take Ian’s mother to task. Eloise was the voice of reason. Eloise was all things kind and gentle. Yet, she was no fool. If Ian had done wrong, she would have been the first one to take
him
to task for it. “You don’t know any of the facts. He’s your son. Hear him out before you encourage the ugly gossip.”

“Do you think I wish these horrid rumors to be true?” Ian’s mother put a hand to her throat as though pained. Again, the cold gleam of her eyes proved otherwise. “He brings it upon himself. He shames our noble family. He’s destroyed our good family name.”

She added something more, but Dillie couldn’t hear it. The Wakeford ballroom was now packed to the rafters with guests and much too noisy to continue discussion of this delicate subject. An elegantly clad couple bumped into her as they passed by, tossing apologies as they moved through the sea of bodies.

Noise and laughter filled Dillie’s ears so that her head began to spin. She could hardly hear Ian’s mother and the bitter words she was still spewing. “I cannot bear to speak of him,” she continued, her voice half lost amid the growing din. “The mere thought of him, of his wanton ways and casual disregard of others, reduces me to tears.”

However, Dillie noticed that she’d shed no tears. Was she being unfair to the dowager? Years of sorrow could have drained her of all feeling, wrung her out so completely that she had no more tears left to shed.

People don’t change,
Dillie reminded herself, struggling to shake off the dread that threatened to overwhelm her. Ian was either the worst human being alive, or horribly wronged. Was it possible that Ian had fathered a child? It would explain his fascination with Ivy. He’d been watching her play with the child several weeks ago at Daisy’s house. He had definitely been studying them. Perhaps hoping to learn how to be a father?

Dillie exchanged desperate glances with her sisters. Were they thinking the same thing? They’d talk privately later, preferably after Dillie had spoken to Ian. He deserved to be heard, and she had so many questions to ask him. Would he bring the child to London? Was the child in London now? Was the child really his?

More important, was he properly caring for this precious innocent who deserved to be protected no matter how he or she had come into the world?

Dillie scanned the crowd, hoping to find Ian, for he would easily stand out amid the powdered faces in the ballroom. She wanted to slip away to talk to him. Now that Eloise had arrived, there would be no more gossip about him. She was relieved. She’d heard more than enough for one evening.

The orchestra, hidden in the balcony overlooking the dance floor, continued to play the opening waltz. Lord Wakeford was still dancing with his wife, and though they were a little on in years, they seemed to enjoy being in each other’s arms. No wonder the waltz was all the rage in London. Who wouldn’t adore being in the arms of someone they loved?

The choice surprised some of the older ladies who were expecting a traditional quadrille, but it delighted the younger ones who were eager to be swept into the arms of handsome suitors. She noticed Charles and his cousin among the dancers and knew they’d be occupied for the next half hour.

Dillie’s legs felt weak. She politely excused herself and hurried through the double doors that led onto the grand terrace. A gentle breeze blew through her curls as she stepped outside. She expected to be alone, for it was early yet. The music had just started, so there hadn’t been time for the room to heat up. Ladies and gentlemen were whirling and swaying in time to the music, too busy enjoying themselves to consider walking away from the gaiety.

Dillie wasn’t feeling very festive at the moment. She needed time to think, to compose the questions she wished to ask Ian. She wondered where he was. Perhaps dancing? Or playing cards? Then she noticed a gentleman standing in a dimly lit corner of the terrace, his elbows resting on the stone balustrade as he gazed up at the stars.

Dillie shivered. It was a cool, clear night. A half moon cast its silver glow across the Wakeford garden. Thousands of stars twinkled brightly against the black sky. She slipped beside him and joined him in staring at the stars. “Good evening, Your Grace.”

Ian laughed softly. It was a curt, mirthless laugh. “You shouldn’t be out here, Daffy.”

He’d called her Daffy, as he always did when trying to push her away. She gazed at him, wanting to ask questions and not knowing where to start. She had no right to pry into his affairs. She would have been quite put out if he’d meddled in hers. Not that she had anything going on in her life that would interest anyone. Nothing of interest whatsoever. Quite dull. Intensely boring.

She sighed.

He shifted his stance, now straightening to his full height as he returned her stare. “Are you going to gawk at me all evening? I assume you’ve heard the rumors.”

She nodded. “Your mother told me about the child.”

“My mother?” He tensed. “I see. She doesn’t waste time.”

“In cutting you to ribbons? No, she’s rather good at it.” She placed a hand on his arm and felt the ripple of his taut muscle beneath her fingers, as though he were steeling himself against her next words. “We Farthingales have many faults, but raising children isn’t one of them. If you need any help with... goodness, I don’t even know if it’s a boy or a girl.”

“A girl. Felicity.”

Dillie smiled. “What a lovely name. So much nicer than mine. Daffodil. Ugh!” She let out a mock shudder. “If you need any help with Felicity, please ask. I’m not as experienced as my mother or sisters in caring for children, but I’ve stepped in and cared for several of my cousins whenever we’ve lost nannies, something that happens fairly often in the mad Farthingale household.”

“Mad is an understatement.” His lips curled ever so slightly at the corners and his gaze seemed to soften.

She blushed. “I don’t mean to pry, but I’d like to offer my help. We’re friends. It is what friends do... help each other out when asked. Though you haven’t asked me. Perhaps you were afraid to impose, but it isn’t an imposition at all.” She was rambling now and couldn’t seem to stop. “The point is, the child is innocent and shouldn’t be blamed for what you and... er, her mother did. Not that I’m judging you. I don’t even know what really happened. Nor do I expect you to answer to me. You don’t owe me explanations.”