An Apple Pie for a Duke (4 page)

“
Yes
she did!” Dominic shouted fiercely. “She said “delighted”!
Didn't you hear? And she's not boring. Not boring at all! You're
completely ignorant. You don't know her one bit!”

“
Oh,
but
you
do, of course, you
saw her entire being in the blink of an eye and now you're deeply
committed. Her parents will be, let's say,
d’lighted
,
at the prospect of their daughter becoming a ‘ditchiss’ to apply
your new manner of speech. --- I think you ought to have a glass of
Madeira. Or something stronger.”

“
I
met her before!”

Now
Darlington stopped. “Don't tell me you're having an affaire with
her
!”

“
No,
no, no, of course not,” Dominic moaned. “She doesn't even
know
I saw her. Ever! I
was.... well, in hiding.”

“
Could
you be bothered to explain, my dear Surrey?”

The
duke put on a stern face. “No, I can't. And now, stop pestering me,
please. --- I'll wait right here and you'll get the carriage. Pick me
up at the tailor's across the street.”

Darlington
shook his head but walked back on his own.

Dominic
crossed Bond Street and was almost run over by a curricle.

Why
ME?

Darlington
and Surrey had only come to Bond Street to pick up an elegant neck
cloth – a gift for his majesty.

On
their way back to Darlington's carriage something had caught
Dominic's eye in the window of a bookshop. There she stood, like an
epiphany, the beautiful pirate girl, gazing up at something hidden
from his view. Without further ado he had marched into the shop to
rid himself of his idiotic infatuation.

But
as soon as he had looked at her he had been on fire.

All
he had been able to think of had been her words... d
evour me,
punish me, oh yes, oh Dominic.

He
wanted to take her right there, against the bookshelf.

But
realisation hit hard. She was, indeed, a young debutante. Beautiful,
sparkling, vibrant but innocent.

In
a bookshop with her mother and her aunt, for heaven's sake, and I
might've deflowered her on top of Robinson Crusoe! --- Why, wouldn't
he have enjoyed that? Poor man, all alone on that desolated island
and such a beautiful creature as my Gigi naked on the beach,
pleading, her breasts lightly covered with sand, and her... Oh, shut
up, Dominic! You're such a decrepit man!

He,
Dominic St. Yves, was
simply not in the habit
of conversing
with innocent girls and their silly withering relatives. The women he
usually frequented were of a different kind. Experienced. Educated.
Entertaining. Not accepted in polite society, but what did he care?

He
was Surrey. He did what
he
wanted.

But
I want HER!

After
all, he could simply show up at her house and propose marriage.

Who
would turn him down?

He
was Surrey!

He
was the dream of mothers all over the land!

He
was the dream of their daughters, too!

And
he was hers, as well, wasn't he?

She
had sworn on the life of Mr. Wimple to marry him if he proposed, so
what did he fear?

Who
was this Mr. Wimple anyway?
Her
lover. He must be her lover! But this Mr. Wimple has nothing on me!
I'm the greatest catch in the land!

Or
wasn't he?

Too
sinister. Too old. --- I'm only thirty-one, that's not old! She's
young, yes, but my sister married a man who's even twenty years her
senior and she's in love with that Barnham person! Young girls marry
older men all the time, most of them are certainly not content with
it, but then again, that irritatingly handsome and clever husband of
Betty's looks as fresh as a boy just out of Eton and he's a miracle
of virility, that marvellous earl. Whereas I'm haughty, bored,
arrogant and unfriendly. My virility is fine, though. Or is it? They
call me a rake, don't they? Well, I guess I AM a rake. I bloody well
may be, I am Surrey!

Dominic
shook himself to clear his mind.

The
tailor gave him a reproachful look but as soon as he had identified
his unruly customer, the reproach instantly changed into a benevolent
smile.

“
Your
Grace.” The tailor bowed. “What an honour. I shall immediately
call for all my assistants and close the shop for Your Grace's
exclusive disposal.”

Outside,
Darlington's carriage drew up. Dominic walked out on the tailor
without a word.

“
Have
you calmed down?” Darlington asked as the duke climbed in.

“
What?
Yes. No. I don't know.”

Darlington
pulled out a drawer from underneath the seats. He brought out a
bottle of wine and two glasses. “You scared the little bird to
death, that's all I can say.”

“
I
did, didn't I?” Dominic gazed out of the window.

“
Yes.”

“
What
am I to do?”

“
Forget
her. You shouldn't be in dabbling with innocent girls.” Darlington
handed him a glass.

“
Why
not?”

“
Because
you are haughty, arrogant, impulsive, reckless, and moody. To be
frank, you're quite abominable.”

“
Why
on earth are you my friend?” Dominic asked waspishly.

“
Because
you're rich.”

“
Good
point.”

“
You
know the most beautiful women.”

“
True.”

“
And...
You’re rich.”

“
Amen.”
They cheered.

But
as they drove towards the palace, Dominic made a resolution.

The
next time he, Dominic St. Yves, the Duke of Surrey, Marquis of
Thorne, Earl of Surrington et cetera et cetera, met Miss Eugenia
Cartwright, he would know how to behave himself.

He
would be ducal. He would be regal. He would be perfect!

5.

London,
ten hours later

The
Birds of Cheltenham Gardens! Why, oh why did my mother have to give
him that book, of all things? He must think I'm deficient! He must
think I'm duller than stone! And him so utterly perfect and
marvellous... with his shining dark hair and his fiery eyes and his
splendid form! His skin, so smooth and so flawless! Oh, and his
mouth, ye Angels, his mouth is phenomenally beautiful, as beautiful
as his nose! His chin so ideally made, like the statue of a roman
god... and how tall he must be! Very... Very, very tall! And very
strong... And his voice and his speech, so sharp, so clear, so male!
But... BUT! The Birds of Cheltenham Gardens! THE BLOODY BIRDS OF
CHELTENHAM GARDENS!!! I hope he'll not read that literary
abomination, but of course he will, he'll have to check if it's
proper for his sister, and when he does, he'll think I am stupid! And
I am! Why couldn't I say something clever? He'll think that I
actually LIKE stories of dull young girls befriending birds and
feeding them crumbs! Didn't I say I'd been delighted? Why didn't he
shoot me in the head?

Gigi
had been rolling around in her bed for the past eight hours. On the
way home she had been crying her eyes out while her aunt had kept on
shrieking “That dreadful man, that dreadful man!”

“
We're
lucky your father isn't here, Darling,” was all her mother had
managed to say. “We're lucky your father isn't here.”

When
finally in bed, Gigi had imagined with inexhaustible creativity how
the Duke of Surrey would be reading
The Birds of Cheltenham
Gardens
.

Perhaps,
he had begun reading it right away, perched on his phaeton, driving
through the streets of London at neck-breaking speed, standing up,
one hand holding the reins, the other hand holding the book.

Or,
he had waited until he had gotten to his undoubtedly elegant house
at... well, wherever dukes lived... He had sat down at an exquisite
tea table surrounded by footmen in gold livery; he had opened the
book and choked on his tea. If he drank tea at all. No, that was not
attractive; he probably drank something much stronger. Brandy.
Certainly brandy... and he sniffed from a diamond-encrusted
sniff-box.

In
yet another version of her fantasy he smoked the most expensive
tobacco from an extremely long pipe in the boudoir of some exotic
princess who most certainly was his lover.

But
all these colourful visions had one thing in common.

He
read the first few paragraphs and came to the conclusion that Miss
Eugenia Cartwright, in the unlikely case he remembered her name, was
utterly dull and as stupid as an ox.

“
Sh’
caaahnt p’ss’bly b’cme th’ditchiss ‘f Srry,” he would
snarl and sniff some more.

I'm
doomed! I'm dooohoooohoooooomed! But why do I even care? He’s the
most aristocratic arse to have ever walked the British Isles. I could
never like him. ‘Ts ‘M’pssbl’!

Gigi
felt more tears rolling down her cheeks.

When
she finally fell asleep, she dreamed of Dominic St. Yves feeding the
birds at Hyde Park, wearing a light-blue dress. She kept wondering
why he had not chosen a yellow one.

He
should wear yellow with such a complexion.

At
last, she drifted into darkness.

She
awoke the next morning with a feeling of dread and never wanted to
set foot outside her aunt's house again. By then, everybody in town
knew of her deficiency, for sure! Men would be roaring with laughter
over breakfast, reading of her love for
The
Birds of Cheltenham Gardens
in
the newspapers. Mothers would warn their children about her. “Do
not talk to Miss Cartwright. She's not right in the head.”

But,
much to her surprise, nobody seemed to care about her when she
eventually
did
leave the house. In
the end, the older women had succeeded in forcing her out and made
her join them on their morning walk in Green Park.

Still,
every second Gigi expected the Duke of Surrey to materialise in front
of her, majestically seated atop his majestic black stallion,
pointing his long, elegant finger at her. “Yerrs, thersh’s,
th’ignor’nt wench!”

Yet,
the Duke of Surrey was nowhere to be seen. 

He
had gone back to the country, Gigi supposed.

Perhaps
he had gone to Paris or even to the West Indies.

I'll
never see him again, ever! Nothing good ever happens to me!

Gigi
knew her thoughts were ungrateful considering her extraordinarily
comfortable life but she felt she had the right to pity herself. Just
a little bit.

Later
that same day, though, something good
did
happen to Gigi.

She
made a friend.

6.

London,
while Miss Eugenia Cartwright was dreaming

Dominic
left court sometime around midnight. His carriage raced outrageously
fast through the London streets. Dominic hardly noticed. He was
beyond drunk.

But
something kept pushing him into the side. Something that simply would
not go away.

He
finally reached into his pocket and found a rectangular object.

What
on earth...?

Then
he remembered. It was that wretched book! He wrestled it out of his
coat.

The
Birds of Cheltenham Gardens
.
An
educational libretto for young ladies.

Hear
hear. If Lady Cartwright only knew...

He
threw it out of the window.

7.

Surrey,
a few days later

Dominic
St. Yves was in a wretched mood.

He
kicked Coeur de Lion into the sides to make the magnificent horse run
faster. He would not lose this race to Lackerby, not on his life.