The Wild Duchess/The Willful Duchess (The Duchess Club Book 1) (14 page)

“
W
hat happened in there
?” Elgin demanded as soon as they had gained the privacy of his carriage. “And don’t you dare spin some nonsense about how you were flirting and fell onto her fan!”

“That was her version of events, not mine. If at all possible, can we talk about this in the morning? I am so tired I can’t feel my hands and tonight was…I don’t even know where to begin.”

“She struck you.”

“Yes,” he said, biting off his reply, the confession bitter in his mouth. “Though my pride suffered the most damage. God, may I never lay eyes on that woman again!”

“You will
absolutely
lay eyes on that woman again. You will fall at her feet and be as charming as you can, or you will never recover from that blow.”

“What are you talking about?”

“It is a scandal hanging over your head at this moment. Every tongue in that room was wagging and if you think that storm will pass if you publicly dismiss and insult her, then you have lost your mind.”

“It was…an unfortunate moment but hardly a scandal.”

“Why did she strike you?”

“A misunderstanding.”

“What did you do to provoke her?”

“Nothing.”

“Truly? A gentle and sweet girl by all accounts and in my own experience notoriously shy in company,
that
girl struck out with her fan in righteous fury in response to…
nothing
? Is that what you wish to say to me? Is that what you honestly think London will swallow whole without question?”

“It was a misunderstanding.”

“So you’ve already said. But let me instruct you on my understanding. You must have done something. Did you say something insulting or crass to her?”

Ryder looked out the carriage window, refusing to answer. Admitting to his uncle that he’d mistaken the girl for her sister and that he’d indeed been less than civil was not something he relished doing. The impulse of the act embarrassed him now and any hope he had of amending things for his uncle’s best interests and intervening with his unlikely relationship with Miss Scarlett Blackwell was in its death throes. He felt like an idiot—or worse, a boy in short pants getting a well-deserved lecture.

“Did you touch her?”

“What?” His head whipped back as he stared at his uncle in shock. “No!”

The duke’s expression was of a man entirely unconvinced. “Your reputation is not without blemish and you have become known for your rakish ways, I fear. Protest all you like but few would doubt rumors that you forgot yourself with Miss Starr Blackwell and overstepped to earn that blow.”

“I have never overstepped with a lady in good society and my reputation is not as salacious as that.”
Well, not with any that weren’t welcoming of the prospect and delighted at the idea of a bit of naughty fun.

Elgin shook his head slowly. “You will repair the damage you have done. You will win that girl’s trust and friendship and see that Starr Blackwell has only good things to say when your name is mentioned in conversation or I will know why.”

“Her trust and friendship? Are you mad?”

Elgin leaned forward slightly on the carriage seat, the intensity of his quiet fury making the confines menacing for his heir presumptive. “If this goes wrong and rumors get out of control… If there is someone who
mistakenly
thought they saw you lay one finger on that girl and offered ruin, then you may in fact be forced to offer far more than friendship. If her father hears of this evening’s events, I assure you he will not assume that it was
nothing
that drove his dear child to defend herself. If he calls on me in the next few days, it may be with a male friend at his side to act as a second and he will be asking for you. Am I making myself clear? You are sitting on the razor thin edge of disaster and you will not whistle off and play the fool.”

“I will…do my best to make amends.”

Elgin sat back against the cushions. “Don’t think I’m not angry that you would offend either of the Blackwell Beauties in this way. It is a personal affront to me, Ryder, and I am not in my dotage to miss what your intentions may have been.”

Ryder took a deep breath. “I apologize.”

“Good. Tonight you’ll sleep and tomorrow you will apologize more directly to her and with far more enthusiasm or I will eject you into the streets with such force that no one will question it if you have to walk back to Cornwall in penance for this trespass.”

“Uncle Elgin. This is all a mis—”

“There is
no
misunderstanding! You flew here from Cornwall to make that scene. I would say that is the very definition of intention, wouldn’t you agree? You simply picked the wrong Blackwell Beauty but I will say this now—if it
had
been Scarlett that you had managed to insult tonight, it would be
me
calling you out! I only wish now that I had anticipated just how ugly the lies from the rumormongers would become or how prolific the gossips could be for I would never have asked Miss Blackwell to dance that night at Aldridge’s! I’ve led her like a lamb to the slaughter. The derision of London’s worst elements should not shock me but the sight of you—standing there with a well-deserved bloody nose? I’m at a loss, Ryder.”

“God, so am I… The papers, everything we heard was so… I leapt in like a fool. I will make it right. I swear it.”

Elgin nodded. “Wait until you really meet those young ladies. If you think you feel like a fool now, just wait. You tried to brand two angels as whores, boy! If they can forgive you for it, I’m glad, but I may need some time.”

His uncle turned to look away, refusing to look back and it was all Ryder could do not to put his face in his hands.

I could strangle Lady Durham—but damned if I didn’t dig most of this hole all by myself. Dear God, how exactly does a man apologize for being the world’s biggest ass?

“
W
hat happened in there
?” Scarlett asked softly.

“Did something happen?” Mrs. Martin asked innocently. “I knew I shouldn’t have tried to get us punch!”

“No, nothing happened,” Starr replied calmly. “And I will not talk about it.”

Scarlett allowed it and the carriage ride passed in total silence. They arrived home, bid Mrs. Martin good night, checked in with Mrs. Clark to be reassured that Dr. West had not been summoned in their absence and then climbed the stairs together to reach the sanctuary of their bedroom. Molly helped them out of their gowns and into their bedclothes and once she left, Scarlett closed the door behind her and leaned with a sigh against the carved wood panels.

“Okay. Now. Let’s have it.”

“No. He is the duke’s nephew and it is clear that…there has been a misunderstanding. I refuse to sour things between you and—”

“No. Nothing else matters. My Tara needs me and if I can guess, he said something horrible because he thought he was talking to me. You—took a stand for
me
, didn’t you?”

Starr nodded unable to speak.

Scarlett went on. “He heard the worst of the rumors and meant to charge in and dress me down in public.”

Starr’s eyes filled with tears.

“I wonder.”

“What?” Starr whispered.

“Did you see Lady Durham in the doorway of that room? She looked like a woman watching a bullbaiting who had placed a very large sum of money on the bull.”

“Did she?”

Scarlett shifted away from the door and moved to sit next to Starr on the bed. “She did. And I am willing to place a large sum of money down that she had a great deal to do with this mess.” She sighed and embraced her sister. “Not that it excuses him, dearest.”

“I-I can’t believe I struck a man like that!”

“Uncle Michael would be so proud of you!” Scarlett released her with a smile, trying to coax a smile. “Serves Lord Hayle right to underestimate a woman who has read Sun Tzu’s ‘The Art of War’.”

“Little good it did me tonight,” Starr sighed. “According to Sun Tzu the supreme art of war is to subdue the enemy without fighting…I need to revisit that book.”

“Thank you, Tara.”

“For what?”

“For defending me as you did. I know you loathe conflicts and yet you held your ground and more. I am so—thank you, dearest. I love you.”

“I love you, too. How could I have done anything differently? I will always fight for you, Lettie. Always.”

“Good. Just don’t forget to fight yourself, too, all right?”

“I promise.” Starr smiled. “Now, let’s get some sleep and I can console myself with the clear and certain knowledge that I will never again have to see Lord Hayle.”

Scarlett nodded. “Good night, dearest.” She kissed Tara on the cheek, they turned off the lamps and climbed into their beds. But before Scarlett drifted off she had one last thought…

Poor Tara. That was not the last of Ryder Maitland or I have learned nothing of men in the last few weeks. I just hope he survives their next encounter…

T
alon stood
on the steps of the Blackwell home, trying to gather his courage. The last time he’d made a call there, he’d not hesitated and then proceeded to lose more ground than he’d gained. He’d mistaken the thrill of a temporary battle for a victory in war. Scarlett Blackwell was not a woman to be overtaken in one small skirmish.

He wished to speak to her as soon as possible to hear how his rivalry with Chesterton had played out at Sussex House. Elgin’s encouragement was a godsend to Talon and he wanted to make sure that Scarlett had received the same from Chesterton to put her conscience at ease.

He rang the bell and waited until it opened.

“May I help you?”

“I am the Duke of Stafford here to see Miss Scarlett Blackwell.”

“She is not currently at home, Your Grace. The ladies have gone out to call on friends but I do expect them back soon if you would like to wait.”

“I would. Thank you.”

The butler showed him to the same ground floor library he had on his previous visit. “I am Godwin. If you require anything, please ring the bell.”

Talon was left alone to slowly circle the room and this time his examination of the shelves was much more productive. Sciences, art, history, philosophy, world religions and even a small section on medical studies and the physiology of mammals. He pulled a slim well-worn volume whose title had worn away to take a closer look.

Talon read the title aloud from the first pages. “Devotions Upon Emergent Occasions, by John Donne.”

“It is a depressing thing,” a man’s voice cut through his solitude from the open doorway and Talon wheeled about still holding the book in his hand.

He recognized the man almost instantly from the balcony at Pellham’s—and a new dread began to form in Talon’s stomach. “Is it?”

The gentleman approached him, his expression impossible to interpret.

Coloring like a lion. Oh, God. I cannot be that unlucky.

“A collection of prose exploring the depths and meanings of sickness a mortal can endure. I think the old codger was trying to find a silver lining in his own misery or at the very least, find a way to pay his bills by writing of something universal: suffering.”

“The book is well worn.”

“My daughter, Starr, cannot put it down.”

“Mr. Blackwell. It is a pleasure to meet you. I am Talon Rush, the Duke of Stafford and a friend of the Duke of Chesterton who I believe you know.”

The man did not move to extend a hand or flutter about over courtesies. Instead he crossed his arms, nonplussed. “I am Ashe Blackwell. I am a father. It is all the title I possess.”

And all he needs to have to outrank me at this moment.

“I had hoped to speak to Scarlett to…”

“To apologize for another discussion on women’s education?”

“She won that debate and one or two since that night to change my mind, Mr. Blackwell.”

“Opposing the women of this family on any subject is tantamount to lunacy.” Ashe slowly entered the library, circling wide enough around Talon to make it clear that they were not about to sit down and share a friendly glass of sherry.

“Another lesson learned?” Talon hazarded to ask.

“I’m not going to compliment you for confusing bravery with ignorance.”

“Understood.”

“I imagine it will be a long and unfruitful wait, Stafford.” Ashe poured himself a brandy. “I’ll tell Scarlett that you were here.”

Talon left before his own temper uselessly reasserted itself at the rude and abrupt end to the visit. And for the first time in his life, he walked out of a room feeling more like a whipped schoolboy than a peer of the realm.

Dear God, I think I’ve underestimated every Blackwell under this roof.

A
she held
his breath until he thought he heard the front door close and then downed the brandy in his glass. Deterring dukes was not a sport for the weak-willed but he was extremely determined. He hadn’t liked the way Stafford had spoken to Scarlett on the balcony that night and even if the man had apologized since then…there was something about him that set Ashe’s teeth on edge.

He couldn’t say what it was exactly. The man was handsome enough, a good age for Scarlett, impeccably dressed and possessed an enviable sense of fashion, apparently wise enough to retreat when told and annoyingly enough, it was hard to say that being a duke and possessing an estate and no less than four houses was a disadvantage.

Ashe defiantly poured himself a second drink. It was early in the day to be so reckless but he was sure there wasn’t a father in England who wouldn’t have encouraged him.

“Death to all suitors,” he muttered. “Well, perhaps not death but they should have to wrestle something with teeth before they can ask my Buttons to dance…”

“Mr. Blackwell?”

“Yes, Godwin.” Ashe answered without turning to face the butler. “I was nattering away and lamenting that the footmen aren’t better armed.”

“Armed? Did you mean to say you wished them to carry pistols?”

“Something more intimidating. Pikes? Sabers? Battle axes?”

“I’ll speak to Mrs. Clark about updating their liveries. However at the moment, I meant to tell you that there is another gentleman come to call. There is a Lord Hayle here to see Miss Starr.”

Ashe turned to face him. “You’re joking.”

“I am not,” Godwin replied archly.

“I did not hear the bell ring.”

“It did not have a chance. The men crossed on the stairs and I thought it rude to close the door in Lord Hayle’s face only to force him to go through the ritual of ringing the bell or knocking.”

“We must have a talk about the benefits of using every impediment in our arsenal, Mr. Godwin, to keep these men at bay. But, as you’ve already let him in—by all means. I’ll see him in here.”

“As you wish.” Godwin was as unflappable as ever and left to go collect Ashe’s next victim.

Ashe sighed, then smiled.
I’m getting rather good at this.

He waited to face his next adversary and then sobered quickly when Lord Hayle proved to be every bit as difficult to find fault with upon first inspection as Stafford. He looked to be about twenty-six years of age, fit and lean, with such an earnest expression on his face it almost made Ashe wince. He looked like a poet except that his rich tailored clothing betrayed that he was not starving in a garret at the expense of his soul. There was also a cut on his nose and the shadow of a black eye but it made him look a little more human and less like a Gainsborough painting off a wall—in improvement from Ashe’s point of view. The man was also holding a large bouquet of spring flowers.
Was I ever that young and sincere?

“I am Ryder Maitland, the Duke of Chesterton’s nephew and…Mr. Blackwell, I had not expected the honor of meeting you today.”

“I expect you’d hoped to see my daughters and not myself.”

“I brought these for Miss Starr Blackwell. I should like to speak to her directly, if that is possible.”

“It is not. She is not here at the moment. Do you want to leave your card?”

“And condemn these to a trash bin?” Ryder laid the flowers on a low table by a reading chair. “Perhaps not.”

He had Ashe’s complete attention now. Ashe walked toward him. “May I ask what kind of call this was supposed to be? What the purpose of your direct conversation might have been with my daughter?”

“It was to be an apology.”

God, he is honest and sincere, isn’t he?

“Are you a villain?” Ashe asked with a straight face—barely.

“I don’t think villains bother to show up with flowers and apologies.”

“Don’t they?” Ashe tried to look as if he were mulling it over. “The cleverest villains would.
I
would if I were a villain. Nothing more ridiculous than snarling and lurking about and then complaining that for some strange reason, no one trusts you… Seems backward to me. The novelists always get that wrong.”

“I am not a villain, Mr. Blackwell. I’m sure they’ve already recounted the—it was not my best moment last night at the party. It wasn’t like me at all.”

Ashe’s eyes narrowed and the playfulness he’d been experiencing vanished. “I imagine it wasn’t, but I want to hear your recounting of events. Better yet, what happened to your nose?”

Ryder became very still. “Your daughter struck me with her fan.”

“Why?”

“Because I insulted her.”

“Why?” The question was quieter the second time and far more menacing.

“Because I’m an idiot.”

It was not the answer Ashe expected. Not even close and without willing it, he smiled.

“You probably are.”

“I brought flowers because I was assured that they make a grand and clear gesture of one’s remorse in these instances but…now that I see them,” Ryder said slowly, his face a study in regret, “I think they are merely something else for her to hit me with and not very effectively.”

Ashe nodded slowly. “A cane with a bow on it might have been nicer for that purpose.”

“Mr. Blackwell, I have no excuse for my actions last night beyond stupidity, misguided intentions and the lack of judgment after listening to the worst gossips and malicious tale-bearers in existence. I was wrong about your daughter. I was wrong. I came here not to plead a case to convince Starr of anything more than…to offer her the chance to strike me again if she wished it.”

“Did you touch her?”

“No!”

Ashe took a deep breath. No one had said anything about an incident at the party last night and he wasn’t happy about a conspiracy of silence in his own home. Whatever had happened, from the looks of Ryder Maitland’s face, a small bit of justice had already been meted out.

A very small bit.

“Is it broken?”

“No, sir.”

“Hmm,” Ashe came a touch closer to him. “So you’re quite repentant?”

“Yes.”

“No need for me to break your nose?” Ashe’s gaze narrowed dangerously. “You are absolutely certain that when I do learn the details of this
incident
that I won’t wish I had taken this opportunity to break your nose?”

Ryder swallowed hard, anxiety flashing in his eyes but he held his ground. “I…don’t know you well enough to make that call but if it would make you feel better then I should offer you the chance and take the blow.”

Ashe nodded. “I do
not
want to like you. It is a little irritating to me when I like people that I do not wish to like. You, Maitland, are irritating me.”

“I apologize, Mr. Blackwell.”

“Very well. Leave the flowers. I will tell her you thoughtfully brought them by when you heard her mother was unwell.”

“Mrs. Blackwell is ill? I hadn’t realized. I am so sorry to hear of it.”

Ashe sighed, stepping back to sit against one of the library tables. “Caroline loves flowers and let’s leave things there.”

“Of course. I’ll go then. Thank you.” Ryder began to retreat but Ashe stopped him at the library doorway.

“Oh! And Maitland?”

“Yes?”

“You do not know Starr in the slightest, do you?”

“No. I have not had that pleasure or that privilege as of yet.” Ryder clasped his hands behind his back. “And now it may happen only if she allows it…”

“Very irritating,” Ashe sighed again. “Not flowers. Books. Look around you. This is her favorite room in the house. A man who wishes to sincerely apologize or win her over would need to know that.”

“Thank you, Mr. Blackwell.”

“You are welcome. Get out.”

R
yder left
the house as quickly as he could without losing the last delicate shred of his dignity. Meeting any young woman’s father was daunting enough as a bachelor but this—this was a new experience and one he wished he could have avoided. But His uncle hadn’t spoken another word to him after last night’s lecture and breakfast had been the iciest affair known to man. Ryder knew it was entirely on him to repair what he could as quickly as humanly possible, or face the consequences if things could not be repaired; but in any case, there was no redemption to be had hiding in the guest room of his uncle’s London home. So he had headed out, flowers in hand, and walked directly into the strangest interview of his life.

Ashe Blackwell was intimidating, unpredictable and if fate had been kinder, exactly the sort of man one hoped to impress or even to befriend.

I doubt friendship is on the roster presently.

But he did forego breaking my nose, so that’s something positive.

At the very least, I can tell my uncle with complete candor that I did my best to make amends, tried to pay the lady a call and risked my life in the process.

Ryder sighed as he climbed up into his waiting carriage and signaled the driver to go.

And when he tells me to brace myself for another attempt?

God help me.

Books. I’ll have to figure out how I can use books…