An Unlikely Duchess (15 page)

“So, what can I do for you, dearest?”

Her father’s question gave her pause. What could he do? She’d been all set to ask for a Season, to tell him that she had every intention to wed. But now that Hartridge was not to marry Caroline it changed things, did it not?

Or did it?

What difference did that make, really? He was still an arrogant snob who thought the most terrible things about her.

And, even if he were not, she was still most definitely not duchess material!

Her resolve once again strengthened, she squared her shoulders and said “Papa, I want to find a husband.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Rebecca made an extra effort with her appearance for dinner that night. At first she’d decided to dress as plainly as possible, to wear no adornment in her hair or on her body and to blend into the background as much as possible. She sent Maura away saying she could ready herself.

After all, Rebecca did not want Hartridge to think that she was trying to ‘win him’ from her sister.

Then, she decided that he could easily assume that
had
been her plan, and now that he’d discovered it she was reverting to type. She rang for Maura immediately and instructed her to lay out her silver silk evening gown, one of her favourites and most eye catching. Then she sat down in preparation for Maura to dress her hair.

She did not want him to think that she was dressing plainly because of him.

But, if she did make too much of an effort, would he think she
was
trying to attract him? After all, hadn’t she screeched at him like a fishwife for not wanting to kiss her? She told Maura to leave again.

Maura refused on the grounds that Rebecca would call for her again in a matter of moments.

So she stayed.

“There, my lady.” Maura leaned back having braided a silver ribbon through the intricate style piled on top of Rebecca’s head. It left her neck exposed apart from a few tendrils, which curled at the nape. “As pretty as a picture.”

Rebecca smiled gratefully at Maura, pleased now that she had decided, or been forced by Maura really, to dress well.
Stuff the arrogant Duke!

She would be in London this Season proving to him that she had no interest in him.

Ignoring the clenching in her heart at the thought, she gave herself one last looking over and, happy enough with the results of Maura’s ministrations, she swept downstairs.

****

Edward had been worried about the reception he would get from both his mother and Lady Ranford but he found to his relief that the ladies treated him as warmly as ever. He had spoken to his mother earlier of course, and explained that he had met with both Lady Caroline and Ranford, and neither had seemed overly disappointed in his breaking the contract.

The dowager had barely batted an eyelid. How strange. He’d been dragged all this way to marry the chit and now nobody seemed to give a damn!

Now, he stood engaging in a lively discussion about the recent goings on in Parliament with Tom, the earl and the vicar, Mr. Davids, who had been invited along with his wife to dine this evening. The vicar was an intelligent man and Edward was quite enjoying the verbal sparring. As the conversation grew livelier, he noticed that Tom seemed suddenly distracted and that his eyes had glazed over slightly.
Rebecca must be here.

Preparing himself for the impact, he turned in the direction of Tom’s stare.

She wasn’t here! Edward felt a moment of confusion before he realised that Lady Caroline had entered, looking resplendent in ice blue silk. He looked quickly back at Tom who still seemed quite starry eyed.

Well, well, well. It seemed Edward would not have to shoot his cousin after all.

He was about to turn away when a flash of silver caught his eye and now it was his turn to stare. For there she was, the woman who had made him feel more emotions in the last two days than he’d felt since being a hormonal lad.

God, she was so beautiful it almost hurt to look at her. Her gown was a soft silk and, in the candlelight the silver colour made her look ethereal. Her dark hair was shot through with silver ribbon. Edward swallowed past the lump, which seemed to have taken up residence in his throat, as his eyes travelled the length of the gown.

The neckline was low, though not obscenely so, showing just enough flesh to drive him mad for the entire evening. It skimmed her body, falling in soft folds but rather than completely hide what was underneath it hinted at it enough to keep a man guessing until he was driven to the brink of insanity.

He needed a drink.

Slowly he came round to the oddest, rasping sound. His brows drew together until he realised that the earl was coughing to gain his attention.

He schooled his features into a mask of indifference but the earl did not seem fooled in the slightest. The vicar was smiling in great amusement. Edward noticed that Tom too looked decidedly uncomfortable. It seemed they’d both been caught.

Fortunately they were saved from further embarrassment by the butler’s announcement that dinner was served. Glancing sheepishly at each other, they made their way to the ladies to escort them to dinner.

Rebecca sat and prepared to make more conversation with Mr. Mrs. Davids than she ever had in her life. Anything to stop herself from being drawn into conversation with Hartridge. She still wanted to throw a platter at him and was currently eyeing up the silverware to pick her best weapon. Not too heavy, or it would not reach him.

“My lady,” Mr. Crawdon’s voice brought her out of her less than innocent musings. She turned to him with a smile.

“I wondered if you liked to play whist.”

“I do indeed, when I am allowed to,” Rebecca answered mischievously.

“What can you mean?”

“Only that I have such a talent for the game, my father rarely allows me to play.” She leaned in to whisper, “he does not like being beaten by girls, you see.”

Tom laughed loudly drawing the attention of the rest of the table.

Rebecca looked up to see Caroline shooting daggers at her. What was that look for? What in God’s name had she done now? She hadn’t even spoken to the blasted duke.

Her thoughts seemed to propel her gaze toward him, though she had told herself to ignore him completely. It seemed she could not help it.

His expression made her throat catch. He was looking murderously at his cousin but when his eyes snapped to hers his expression changed. Rebecca did not know what to call it, but she felt the impact of it right down to her toes and a shocking heat pooled in her belly. She felt her face flush and looked away.

“What can be so amusing, cousin?” Edward asked, all politeness. His tone was friendly enough but there was an underlying hardness to it. Rebecca wondered if anyone else noticed it.

“Lady Rebecca and I were just discussing her prowess as a whist player. It is quite something to behold I hear,” Tom answered calmly, seemingly unfazed by the iron in the duke’s tone.

“It seems the lady has many talents,” Edward replied.

Rebecca’s eyes flew back to his. She did not like his tone.

“Why earlier I found myself quite amazed with her horsemanship.”

Oh no.

“I was very impressed at her ability to jump the boundary hedge from your stables to the meadows, my lord,” this to her father.

She hated him!

The earl looked momentarily confused then, as realisation dawned he looked in horror at Rebecca. She wanted the ground to swallow her.

“Rebecca,” his voice was low and controlled since they had guests, but she knew that had they been alone, he would have railed at her until he grew hoarse. “How could you take such a risk?”

Rebecca looked again at the duke, feeling a stab of betrayal. Why would he say such a thing, knowing she would be in trouble? She only prayed that he was finished trying to humiliate her and that he would not mention Mr. Simons. Or anything else, for that matter.

“It was fine, Father. I am quite capable of jumping the hedge. I did not even—”

“And I have told you before,” the earl interrupted her, fury stamped on his expression, “that I will not have my daughter taking such ridiculous risks and acting like anything less than a lady.”

Rebecca’s cheeks burned with humiliation. She dared not look at anyone else at the table, lest she see scorn, disappointment, or worse, pity on their faces.

There was an uncomfortable silence at the table broken at last by the dowager duchess.

“Well, I for one admire your energy Lady Rebecca, though I do urge you to take care. Beauty such as yours is so rare. I find myself quite excited about the impact you will make when you make your come out.”

Rebecca smiled gratefully at the dowager. Not only had she broken the tension but had raised the subject of the upcoming Season, thus giving the ladies at the table a subject to discuss and allowing them to quite forget Rebecca’s set down.

Mr. Crawford engaged her once again in a conversation about her card playing abilities and Rebecca forced herself to relax. It seemed her humiliation was done for now. But she felt utterly heart sore.

It was obvious to her that the duke still held her in as much contempt as he had displayed this afternoon.

Edward allowed the conversation around the table to wash over him while he inwardly called himself every bad name he could think of. And since he spoke three languages, he had quite the repertoire. Had he really just gone out of his way to shame and humiliate the girl? Had he really sunk so low? And why? Because he was jealous that she was laughing with Tom?

If ever there was proof that he needed to leave here at first light, this was it. Rebecca would hate him now, if she did not before. The damage done this afternoon had just been reinforced by his own jealous stupidity.

“Is that not so, my dear?” His mother leaned across the table to gain his attention.

“I am sorry Mother, I did not quite catch that.”

“I was telling Mrs. Davids how sorry you are to have to leave tomorrow.”

“Indeed. Very sorry. But urgent business calls me to Town I am afraid.”

Rebecca, who had been chatting with Mr. Crawford heard the dowager announce Hartridge’s leaving. Her head snapped up. Leaving? She listened carefully to his answer. Tomorrow? He was leaving tomorrow? She felt a stab of disappointment, which was ridiculous. She hated him!.

And, wasn’t Rebecca herself planning on leaving for London just as soon as her father could make arrangements? Though she did not want to clap eyes on him while she was there.

London was filled with enough people that they could happily avoid each other, though they would attend much of the same functions.

So it should not make a difference to her when he left. It
did not
make a difference
.

“Is your whole party to leave, your grace?” Caroline asked the dowager in a small voice. Rebecca felt Mr. Crawford tense beside her at Caroline’s question.

The dowager answered, “No, my dear. I have so wished to visit you all for so long. Tom has been kind enough to offer to stay behind for the duration of my visit.”

“How wonderful,” Caroline answered weakly. Rebecca frowned. Between Caroline’s reaction and Mr. Crawdon’s statue-like posture beside her when Caroline had spoken, she felt something very strange was going on here.

“We shall be joining you in London this Season too, my lady,” the earl announced, his tone still not as jovial as before but sounding a little less angry.

“Indeed?”

“Yes, Rebecca has decided to hunt for a husband!”

For Heaven’s sake!
Her father was the least subtle man in the realm.

The earl was cut short by the sound of choking to his right. It seemed the duke had swallowed something that did not agree with him.

“Good heavens man! Are you alright?”

Hartridge took a long drink of wine before apologising.

“Pray forgive me sir, I must have bitten off more than I could chew.”

This earned an unladylike snort from Rebecca, which in turned earned another angry glare from Caroline. And her father. Best she stayed quiet. She risked a quick glance at Hartridge and found his eyes boring into her. His face was rigid and his jaw clenched as if he was struggling to stay in control. He was probably disappointed that an ocean would not be separating them for long after all.

“Do continue, Charles,” the dowager urged excitedly, “are you really to come to London for the Season?”

“So it would seem,” the earl continued, “Rebecca has gotten it into her head to settle down, and now that Caroline and Edward have decided against each other, we may as well launch the both of them.” Her father had never exactly been renowned for his tact.

“But this is wonderful,” the dowager exclaimed. “My dears, you will be the toast of the Town!”

Caroline stared at Rebecca from across the table. Rebecca hadn’t had a chance to confide her wishes to her older sister. And judging from their father’s announcement Caroline was now to seek a husband, whether she wanted to or not.

Rebecca leaned forward and spoke as low as possible, “I am sorry I did not get a chance to speak to you Caroline, I hadn’t thought that father would expect you to come too, unless you wanted to.”

Caroline looked down at her lap and kept her head bowed for a moment and Rebecca wondered if she was truly terribly upset by the idea but then Caro’s head raised and she fixed a determined smile on her face.

“I think it is a wonderful idea. We must both marry, mustn’t we? Why not go and see what London has to offer?”

Rebecca could not help but feel that something else was going on in Caro’s head but now was not the time to question her. The dowager, her mother and Mrs. Davids were chattering excitedly about balls, soirees and London wardrobes; her father was discussing his plans to open up the Townhouse with the vicar and none of them seemed to be paying attention to the tension emanating from Rebecca, Hartridge, Caroline and, strangely, Mr. Crawford.

The atmosphere was as untenable as it was confusing and Rebecca just wanted the night to be over.