Ducal Encounters 03 - Portrait of a Duke (8 page)

“Come,” he said, offering her his arm. “My family is anxious to make your acquaintance. We are all a little awed to have such a famous family living on our doorstep.”

She placed her hand on his sleeve and looked at him askance. “I find it hard to imagine your family being awed by us, or anyone else for that matter. I mean, just look around you…this magnificent house, these beautiful grounds. Who could compete with that?”

“Which just goes to show how little you know us.” He looked down at her with a reassuring smile. “We might have money and rank, but both were inherited so we can take no credit for that. We have simply carried on where our ancestors left off. We have never, any of us, achieved anything remarkable in our own right, and fully intend to bask in the reflected glory of having your grandfather as a neighbour.”

“Please don’t do that, Lord Vincent,” she said, alarm flaring in her expressive eyes.

“If you would prefer us not to, then of course we will not say a word.” He fixed her with a probing gaze. “It is not my intention to make your life more difficult for you than it already is.”

“Thank you. I had hoped to keep my grandfather’s presence here a secret, you see, at least for a little longer. But, I suppose, now that you all know—”

“We shall not breathe a word.” The hand resting on his arm trembled and Vince impulsively covered it with one of his own. “We shall respect your privacy, Miss Trafford, and that of your grandfather. You are right to say that word of his presence will most likely spread, but if the Sheridans make it known he is to be left in peace, no one from either of the local villages will go near him.”

She canted her head and subjected him to cool appraisal. “You sound remarkably sure of yourself.”

“I would refer you back to all that inherited wealth and consequence. The villagers bicker all the time for the privilege of
owning
us, and would never ignore a ducal decree.”

“But I do not even know the duke.”

“No, but you are about to meet him.”

She looked up at Vince, the elegant lines of her profile compressed with a combination of anxiety and gratitude. “Thank you,” she said simply.

He sensed she wanted to say something else, but they were now approaching the double doors to the drawing room, which a footman opened for them before they actually reached them.

“Ready?” he asked.

She squared her shoulders and threw back her head. The pulse beating at the base of her throat was the only indication of her nervousness. “Indeed.”

Her poise reminded Vince that she had been living continuously with her grandfather, and must be used to mixing with people from all walks of society. She would not be overawed by this occasion and would know how to behave.

As they entered the room, all conversation stopped and five elegant heads turned in their direction. Lady St. John eased the momentary awkwardness by jumping to her feet and engulfing Miss Trafford in an affectionate hug.

“My dear, it has been too long.” Lady St. John held Miss Trafford by the shoulders and submitted her to an exacting scrutiny. “You look very well, but you have lost weight since we last met.”

“Whereas you are more beautiful than ever.”

“Nonsense.” Lady St. John waved the suggestion aside. “I am now quite established as an aging widow.”

Zach turned a laugh into a cough, drawing the ladies’ attention to him.

“Miss Trafford,” Vince said. “May I introduce my brother, Zachary Sheridan, the Duke of Winchester?”

Zach was his usual urbane self as he stepped forward and offered Miss Trafford his hand, effortlessly raising her from her curtsey.

“Miss Trafford, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“And I yours, Your Grace.”

“I hope you and your nephews will be regular visitors to the Park during your sojourn in Compton.”

“That is very kind of you, but Lord Amos might argue that point when he has spent a little time in my nephews’ company.”

Zach laughed. “It will be good practice for him.”

Vince introduced everyone else in turn—his mother, his brother Nate and sister Portia and, of course, Amos’s wife, Crista. Miss Trafford appeared particularly taken with Zach’s wolfhounds, Phantom and Phineas. When she offered them her gloved hand for inspection and then tickled their ears, the pampered beasts clearly recognised a soft touch and settled themselves at Miss Trafford’s feet the moment she took a seat. Zach was watching her closely and Vince knew her instinctive reaction to his dogs would meet with his approval. He told Vince once that he didn’t completely trust anyone who disliked animals.

“I hear your nephews have a dog, Miss Trafford,” Zach said, “which was how you came across my brother.”

“He did rescue the boys from a rather awkward situation,” she replied biting her lower lip, presumably to contain a giggle.

“I don’t suppose you will remember who we all are,” Portia remarked cheerfully after a short pause in the conversation. “There are rather a lot of us. I expect it’s a bit daunting.”

“I am fairly good with names and faces, Lady Portia. My grandfather has met so many people over the years, you see. Recently it has become my responsibility to remember who they all are and where we were introduced.”

“Oh, poor you,” Portia replied. “I should make a hopeless muddle of such a task.”

“It must have been an interesting time,” the duchess remarked with a kindly smile. “Travelling around Europe, I mean, and meeting so many different people. But was it not dangerous?”

“Not really, Your Grace. We avoided close proximity with battlegrounds.”

“Very wise. But I must say, I admire your ability to remember who people are. I myself have a terrible memory for names but never forget a face.”

“That is what my grandfather used to say, but then he is an artist, and so he recalls people by the shape of their heads. If they happen to have unfortunate features, well…that just makes them more memorable and fills him with an urgent need to capture their likeness. Or rather filled,” she amended with a sad shake of her head.

Miss Trafford’s willingness to speak without any signs of inhibition, albeit without volunteering any information he didn’t already possess about her circumstances, eased the tension Vince hadn’t been aware afflicted him. He accepted a cup of tea from his sister’s hand and, standing beside Zach, observed Miss Trafford as she conversed with his mother and the other ladies. She looked perfectly at home in their drawing room, rather as Crista had done when she first entered it as, of all things, a jeweller’s assistant. It transpired she was a great deal more than that. She was responsible for the design and manufacture of some incredibly intricate jewellery but, as a woman, could not claim credit for her skill.

Zach showed no inclination to embrace matrimony and had named Amos, as the brother closest to him in age, as his heir, with Vince and Nate following thereafter. That being the case, Vince had wondered about his mother’s reaction to Amos’s obvious infatuation with Crista. A jeweller as possible mother of the next duke? Was that feasible?

Vince ought to have known better. His mother did not have a pretentious bone in her body and her only priority was Amos’s happiness. When it became obvious that Crista filled a need in her second son, she did not hesitate to promote the match. She was behaving in a similar fashion now towards Miss Trafford, going out of her way to put her at her ease. Not that Vince had any thoughts of matrimony but it would not have escaped his mother’s notice that it was he who had introduced her to the Park, albeit purely by chance. Hopeful of seeing another of her children comfortably settled, she probably read more into the situation than actually existed. Vince exchanged a glance with Zach, who merely shrugged.

“Do you intend to remain in Compton for long, Miss Trafford?” Crista asked.

“Our plans are fluid, Lady Amos. It depends upon a lot of things.”

“Did I hear you mention you have an older brother?” Nate asked.

“Yes. He is currently in London, transacting some business on behalf of my grandfather. We are expecting his return any day.”

“It must be very difficult for you,” Portia said, “to have lost both your parents.”

“Portia, I’m not sure—”

“It’s all right, Lord Vincent. My grandfather’s fame ensured our loss was reported in the newspapers at the time. It is not a secret.”

“It would have been especially hard for your brother since he lost his wife, too,” the duchess said sympathetically. “And now your nephews rely upon you.”

“I do the very best that I can, but I have help.”

“Speaking of which, how is Sophia?” Lady St. John asked.

Miss Trafford’s cheeks bloomed a becoming shade of pink. “I don’t know how I would manage without her.” She gave her head a defiant toss. “Sophia is my…well, was my grandfather’s muse.”

That
was
news to Vince, but if Miss Trafford expected a shocked reaction, she was to be disappointed.

“How interesting,” the duchess said, her eyes widening. “I should enjoy meet her.”

“Oh, would you really?” Miss Trafford looked rather alarmed at the prospect. “We are all rather at sixes and sevens at the moment, I’m afraid.”

Vince noticed Lady St. John pat Miss Trafford’s hand, as though she had known what the duchess’s reaction would be before she mentioned the infamous Sophia. Vince had to assume she was Trafford’s paramour, as well as his muse, accounting for Miss Trafford’s embarrassment. What a very interesting family they now had on their doorstep.

The visit lasted the prescribed half an hour, after which time Miss Trafford thanked the duchess and the rest of Vince’s family very prettily for receiving her.

“I hope we shall see you again, Miss Trafford,” the duchess said, shaking her hand.

“I understand your desire to keep your grandfather’s presence here confidential,” Zach said when it was Miss Trafford’s turn to take her leave of him, “and you may rest assured that he will be left in peace, at least by the villagers.”

“Thank you, Your Grace. That is very good of you.”

“Would your grandfather be equal to dining with us?” the duchess asked. “Naturally you are included in the invitation, as is Sophia.”

“Thank you, Your Grace, I appreciate the honour, but I’m really not too sure if it would be possible, or advisable. Can I consult with Sophia and send word?”

“I am sure Vince will call upon you again in the very near future,” the duchess replied, her eyes sparkling in a manner that immediately set Vince on his guard. Having seen two of her six children married in quick succession, his mother appeared determined to continue with her quest to find suitable partners for them all. Vince wanted to tell her not to interfere in his affairs; she assumed too much, but could not raise the subject in Miss Trafford’s presence. “Please convey your answer to him and we will fix a date if you decide to come. I hope you will. And naturally Frankie will come, too. Your grandfather will probably be more comfortable if there is a familiar face at table.”

Vince shared a pained look with his brothers. His mother was meddling, and rather clumsily too, but this time in Zach’s affairs. Vince wondered when his mother had started addressing Lady St. John by her Christian name. His sisters and Crista had done so for some time; Vince and his brothers did not. Their mother had also remained on more formal terms with the lady Vince suspected she wished to see Zach married to. Perhaps by treating her as one of the family she hoped to encourage Zach to actually make her one. Vince wanted to smile at the prospect of their mother persuading Zach to do anything he was not inclined to do.

“Shall we see if your nephews are still in one piece, Miss Trafford?” Vince asked.

“We can but hope,” she replied wistfully, placing her hand on his proffered arm and walking from the room with him.

“I did not know my mother planned to invite you and your grandfather to dine,” he said as soon as they were clear of the others. “I hope she has not made things awkward for you.”

“You would prefer it if we did not come?”

“On the contrary, nothing would give me greater pleasure, but—”

“But, you saw my grandfather at his worst yesterday and are worried he will cause embarrassment.”

“Is that what you really believe?” he asked, fixing her with an earnest look.

She sighed. “You are probably right about Grandpapa. He is nothing if not unpredictable. But don’t worry, I doubt we shall be able to accept.” She looked almost regretful; as though it had been too long since she last did something for her own pleasure. “Some days Grandpapa is quite his old self, perfectly equal to sitting down to table and conversing intelligently. Other days, he barely remembers my name, or his own. His moods swing so very quickly. One moment he is coherent, the next…well—”

“I understand better than you might imagine. My suggestion is that you ask Sophia what she thinks of the proposal.”

“I will certainly speak with her, but she will not come herself.”

“Why ever not?”

“Sophia has been with my grandfather since before I was born. If you must know, she was a courtesan when they met and is the kindest, wisest, funniest person I have ever had the privilege to call friend. She would not disgrace your mother’s table, Lord Vincent, but the problem is, she will
think
she would.”

“In which case, provided your grandfather is equal to the occasion, Sophia’s excuses will not pass muster. You have seen for yourself how relaxed we all are.” Miss Trafford’s eyes widened when he briefly related Crista’s history.

“You really are a most remarkable family. Thank you, Lord Vincent. Not many people would be so accepting of Sophia’s history.” A small frown invaded her features. “But then you are the only one who knows the truth. The duke, or Her Grace, would most likely have second thoughts if they were aware.”

Lord Vincent laughed. “You think they do not realise? I can assure you that Zach does, and my mother is not stupid. She understands how the world works.”

Miss Trafford expelled a long sigh. “You are very kind.”

They walked outside into bright spring sunshine and her eyes immediately went to the paddock where Amos schooled his horses. She gasped when she espied her nephews sitting bareback on the same horse while Amos lunged it at a lively canter.