Until You (3 page)

Ashleigh felt her tension easing as she regarded the slender, white-haired lady standing before her.  Though she appeared to be around the same age as her grandfather, Madeline Leighton was still an attractive woman.  Her discerning brown eyes bespoke years of knowledge and experience and the tiny laugh lines around her mouth suggested a cheerful disposition. 

“I have ordered tea to be served in the front parlor so that we may get acquainted,” the duchess announced, leading Ashleigh through a wide set of double doors set off the front hall.

As Madeline led her over to a blue chintz sofa situated directly behind an elegant silver tea service, she noted that the room was tastefully done in varying shades of blue and grey, with expensive furniture placed artfully throughout.  As Ashleigh seated herself, she noticed a leather-bound volume by Christopher Marlowe lying on a small table next to the sofa.  Turning inquiring eyes toward the duchess, Ashleigh asked about the book.  “Do you enjoy Mr. Marlowe's works, Your Grace?”

“Please dear, I insist you call me Madeline,” she said with an affectionate smile.  “And yes, I am an ardent admirer of Mr. Marlowe's writings.  Do you enjoy his plays?”

“Oh yes, Your Grace, I mean Madeline,” she corrected with a smile of her own.  “I must admit that Shakespeare is my favorite however.”

“Beautiful and well-read, how wonderful.”  Madeline said, with obvious pleasure.  “I think the two of us are going to get along famously.”

They chatted for several minutes and Ashleigh quickly realized that she and the duchess had more in common than she would have imagined.  Madeline Leighton was obviously a remarkably intelligent woman and had a warm and gracious personality that belied her elevated station.  She also seemed far younger than her years.
 
As they talked, her anxiety gradually began to fade and she was beginning to feel more and more at ease.
 
However, a short while later their conversation was unexpectedly interrupted by a quiet cough.

“Forgive me, Your Grace, I am sorry to interrupt but you are needed in the kitchen.”  The
Sethe’s
stoic butler met the duchess’ eyes, rolling his own skyward and giving a slight shake of his head.

“Monsieur
LeFeve
?”  Madeline asked, her tone conveying a mild sense of amused exasperation.

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“Will you excuse me for a moment my dear,” Madeline said, turning back to Ashleigh.  “I am afraid our chef is a bit temperamental.”  She smiled ruefully, rising from her seat.  “However, his culinary skills are without equal I assure you, and well-worth the occasional dramatics.”

As Madeline left to attend her temperamental chef, Ashleigh rose from her own seat to wander about the beautiful room.  Her eyes were immediately drawn to the portrait hanging over the large marble fireplace.  In the picture, two men stood on either side of the very same fireplace, each resting an elbow atop the wide mantel.  Both men were extremely attractive, but her eyes were riveted on the one with coal black hair and brilliant blue eyes, seemingly the older of the two.  She stood transfixed, staring in wonder at the man in the portrait.  Looking back at her from the depths of the canvas was by far the most breathtakingly handsome man she had ever seen.  She was still staring at the painting in absolute fascination when Madeline returned to the room a few minutes later.

“I see that you have discovered my grandsons,” Madeline remarked, coming to stand next to Ashleigh, her face beaming with pride as she gazed at the painting.  “I had the portrait commissioned two years ago, and I must admit it was quite a feat on my part to coerce the young devils to actually pose for it,” she chuckled fondly.  “Though they are both wonderful boys, neither of my grandsons has ever been known for possessing a great deal of patience I am afraid.”

Ashleigh was shocked by Madeline's revelation.  The duke looked nothing at all like the image she had envisioned in her mind.  “
He
is the current Duke of
Sethe
?” she asked in disbelief, gesturing to the older of the two men in the portrait.

“Yes of course, dear, you seem surprised.”

“Well, well yes,” she stammered.  “I mean, that is…I thought that he would be older, and well not quite so, so...”

“Not quite so handsome you mean,” Madeline supplied helpfully, a knowing smile curving her lips.

Ashleigh's blush was answer enough.  She could certainly understand his reputation now.  The man must have women throwing themselves at him at every turn.

“
Nicholas turned twenty-nine just recently and Brendon is twenty-three
.  They are delightful fellows, but sometimes I think they are far too handsome for their own good,” she said with a light chuckle.

“Are they currently in residence?” she asked.  Then, realizing how that might sound, Ashleigh quickly clarified her statement.  “I mean, I would hate to be an imposition.”

“Dearest, you could never be an imposition.  In fact, you are exactly what this old house needs, a bit of youthful energy to liven things up,” Madeline assured her.  “But as to your question, no, neither of my grandsons is currently in residence.  Brendon is currently abroad, for he captains his own merchant vessel and is often away at sea for months at a time and Nicholas is presently in London, attending to business matters.  I expect him to return early next month however,” she informed her, as they returned to their seats on the sofa.

After several cups of tea and a lengthy, yet delightful conversation with the duchess, Ashleigh was given a brief tour of the manor by Mrs.
Gregson
, the woman in charge of the housekeeping staff.   As she had expected, the entire house personified taste and elegance and she could hardly wait to go exploring on her own.

She was thoroughly enchanted when she was eventually shown to a charming bedchamber located on the second floor, decorated in soft shades of rose and ivory.  Beautiful mahogany furniture graced the large room and her ivory-handled brush and comb set were already laid out upon the delicate Queen Anne dressing table.  Two rose-colored settees were set near an ornate fireplace, a comfortable looking chaise was tucked into a nearby corner, and heavy rose-colored velvet curtains framed three floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the rear garden.  As she explored, she saw that several of the gowns she had brought from
Glenbrooke
had already been pressed and hung in the armoire and her shoes and riding boots had all been neatly put away. 

She didn't see her shirts and breeches, but she assumed they had been placed in one of the two dressers in the room.  She couldn't help but wonder what the maids had thought upon discovering those items.  Martha had been aghast of course, when Ashleigh had insisted that her favorite riding clothes be packed on the off chance she might actually be allowed to wear them, but had grudgingly placed them into one of the trunks in spite of her grumblings.

As her gaze fell upon the enormous four-poster bed draped in a rose and ivory striped coverlet with matching curtains tied to each of the bedposts, she felt certain that she would sleep well within such comfortable surroundings.

That evening, Ashleigh shared a pleasant meal with the duchess in the large formal dining room and said a silent prayer of thanks that she had been well-taught regarding the correct usage of the large array of ornate flatware which had surrounded her place setting.  Upon entering the room, she had been awestruck at the size of the dining table, which could easily seat sixty people.  Thankfully, Madeline was seated at the head of the table and she had been seated to her immediate left.  She couldn't imagine dining at opposite ends of the outrageously long table, for conversation would be nearly impossible.

“My son Richard was fond of entertaining and had the table specially commissioned,” Madeline said, when Ashleigh remarked on its size.  “He often enjoyed hosting large dinner parties and made great use of it when he was alive.” 

“Does the current duke enjoy entertaining as well?”

“Unlike his father, Nicholas prefers a quieter lifestyle, especially here in the country,” Madeline informed her, smiling at the mention of her grandson.  “We seldom have large numbers of guests here, with the exception of our annual hunting weekend of course.” 

“Annual hunting weekend?”

“It will be held next month, and has been a family tradition for generations.  In fact, I intend for that to be your first introduction to Society.”

“Oh,” Ashleigh replied, feeling her stomach drop.  She hadn’t realized that she would be making her first foray into Society’s midst quite so soon.

“Your grandfather informed me that you are an avid equestrian.”

“Yes, I am.  Do you ride, Madeline?”

“Not anymore, dear,” she replied, her expression somewhat wistful.  “But I too was once an accomplished horsewoman.”

“I must admit that it is my favorite pastime by far,” Ashleigh said.  “In fact, I ride nearly every morning.”

“Your grandfather mentioned as much when last we spoke.  He also made mention of your rather
unconventional
choice of riding attire.”  Madeline’s tone was
conspiratol
as she regarded Ashleigh, her eyes twinkling.”

“He did?” Ashleigh replied, surprised by the revelation.

“Oh yes.  Searle and I are old friends, and I expect he knows me well enough to identify a kindred spirit.  Though I cannot say that I have ever donned a pair of breeches, I have been known to defy convention a time or two myself.” 

The duchess winked and Ashleigh smiled in response, liking Madeline more and more every minute.  She was a delightful woman, just as her grandfather had said.

“I dare say you will most likely give the grooms quite a shock, but as long as we are without company, I see no reason that you cannot continue to enjoy your morning rides as you did at home.  Our property is exceedingly vast and our nearest neighbor is miles away, so I do not see any harm in it.”

“Thank you Madeline,” Ashleigh said, relief evident in her voice.  “I assure you that I will garb myself properly however, whenever there are others about.  Though I fear that the last time I donned my riding habit was for the seamstress’ final fitting,” she added with an impish grin.

As they continued their meal, their conversation flowed easily and by the time the final course was served, Ashleigh felt as if she and Madeline were old friends.

Hours later, as Ashleigh lay comfortably in her bed she thought of the upcoming hunting weekend and felt a gnawing sense of trepidation.  She had never realized how truly secluded her life had been at
Glenbrooke
.  She and her grandfather seldom had guests and she had no recollection of something as momentous as a ball or a hunt having been held there, even as a child.  She supposed their relative isolation was in large part due to her grandmother’s passing, as well as the death of her parents.  After those tragic events, her grandfather had apparently been content to devote the majority of his time and energy to raising her.  He had been a wonderful guardian and she would be eternally grateful for his presence in her life.  However, it seemed the time was now upon her to spread her wings and venture beyond the safety and security of
Glenbrooke
, and she couldn’t help feeling a bit uneasy about the transition.

After a while her thoughts began to drift in other directions, one of which led her to the memory of the portrait of Nicholas and Brendon Leighton.  Despite his reputation, she had never dreamed that the Duke of
Sethe
would be so sinfully handsome.  She found his striking features and vibrant blue eyes remarkably appealing, and couldn’t help feeling slightly disappointed that he was presently away in London.  As she finally drifted off to sleep, it was Nicholas Leighton’s image that lingered in her thoughts and then slipped inexorably into her dreams.

The next morning, Ashleigh stood in the center of her bedchamber dressed only in her thin undergarments, obediently turning this way and that at the instruction of Madame Olivier.  She had been poked, pinned, and prodded for the last two hours, as the stern-faced woman and her handful of assistants had painstakingly taken her measurements and begun the preliminary fittings for her new clothes.  She was presently surrounded by a mass of silks, satins, taffetas, rich velvets, and luxurious cashmeres, and the bed was piled high with hatboxes, gloves, satin dancing slippers, lacy camisoles, multicolored ribbons and numerous other feminine accessories.

After a brief cursory glance at Ashleigh's current wardrobe, Madeline had determined that the majority of her clothing was unsuited for Society functions and had immediately sent for Madame Olivier, the busiest and most celebrated
modiste
in London.  When she had arrived earlier that morning, she had immediately rushed Ashleigh upstairs to her room and began the process of outfitting her with an entirely new wardrobe.

Though she wasn’t overly fond of the fitting process, Ashleigh had to admit that she
was
excited about her new gowns.  The designs Madeline and Madame Olivier had selected were much different than her existing gowns, the styles and colors they chose much more elegant and sophisticated than anything she had ever worn before.

“I think we have done enough for now,” Madame Olivier said at last.