Lady Eugenia's Holiday (4 page)

Cynthia gasped, covering her mouth in shock. “Say
he didn’t!”

“He did,” Eugenia replied, not at all thrilled to
make the confession. Penelope’s version of her meeting with the Duke had more
than a mere ring of gossip.

“And Genie shamelessly flirted with him,” Penelope
leaned forward to whisper.

“You didn’t!” Cynthia drew in another quick breath
and stared at Eugenia, shocked.

“She did!” Penelope appeared to enjoy adding her
salacious enhancements wherever she could manage. “She used her fan with such
skill.”

“I was following your instructions!” Eugenia
exclaimed in her defense. She was not the one who had the knowledge of such
things.

“I did not hold a loaded pistol to your back,”
Penelope returned rather sharply. “I was only trying to help you do what you
must.”

Eugenia looked away. Perhaps she ought not to have
done it but that was beside the point. This was too cruel a reminder of her
untoward behavior of the night before.

“But he did seek you out.” Cynthia glanced to one
side, apparently lost in deep consideration of Eugenia’s circumstances. “And he
made himself known to you, without a proper introduction and without the
permission from your aunt. What if he should prove unsuitable?”

“Unsuitable?” The notion never occurred to Eugenia.

“Cynthia, he is a duke!” Penelope reminded her. As
if one holding a title could not be loathsome and dishonorable in any way.

“There are those families who seek a wife’s fortune
to replenish their own. He would not be the first.”

Eugenia blinked. “I have no fortune.”

“But you do have a dowry,” Penelope pointed out. “How
much would Lord Langford’s daughter bring?”

“He may not know. Then again, he may not care.”
Cynthia maintained her dubious air. “Perhaps he is overwhelmed by your beauty.”

“You have enchanted him.” Penelope stood and
strolled to the window. “We may arrive together for the Little Season but you will
be the fiancée of a duke.”

And Aunt Rose thought Eugenia was the one who wove
fanciful tales.

“The Little Season will begin with the grand
celebration of your forthcoming nuptials,” Penelope elaborated. “Shall we be
invited to the wedding?”

“I should hope so. We were with Genie when she and
the duke first met.” Cynthia grasped Eugenia’s hand. “Will the banns be read
that first Sunday or shall you be wed with a special license?”

“I cannot imagine he should want to wait longer
than he needs,” Penelope stated in complete confidence.

“I had wished for a wedding at St. George’s.”
Eugenia’s confession was a closely held secret. She had heard of well-known
aristocrats marrying there and only dared dream that she could do the same.

“Oh, that would be grand.” Penelope’s faraway
dreamy visage matched that of Cynthia’s expression.

Eugenia hoped she had not succumbed to the same.

“And what of your gown?” Cynthia’s voice took on
the same dreamy quality of her face. “I had always wished for pale pink cotton
with fine embroidery.”

“I should have a silver satin dress, I think,”
Penelope mused.

“I have always dreamed of white silk and a bit of
lace.” Eugenia divulged another secret desire. “And flowers. Dozens, hundreds
perhaps. Enough to fill the entire room!”

“Oh, yes, many, many flowers!” Cynthia cheered.

“Hothouse flowers,” Penelope amended.

“Gardenias?
Violets?” Cynthia supplied.

“Peonies,” Eugenia continued. “And after the
ceremony there would be a huge, wonderful, sumptuous breakfast.”

“Und you should have music so
wunderbar
to express your love!” Herr Mueller then shuffled into the room, joining the
ladies.

All three girls gasped and faced the door at the
sudden male presence.

“Franz!” Cynthia squealed at the same time Eugenia
cried out, “Herr Mueller!”

“Music?” Penelope intoned distastefully. Perhaps
the distasteful part was meant for Herr Mueller himself and not his suggestion.
“One does not have music at a wedding.”

“Not usually, however, das may be in an arranged
marriage. But Lady Eugenia and her duke such as this, when there is a meeting
of two souls, it is not just a ceremony, it is a celebration of the heart!”

Eugenia sensed the truth in what Franz said.

“
Bitte
, tell me of your
duke.” He directed his question at Eugenia. “Do you find him charming?
Handsome? Something more, perhaps?”

“He is charming,” Cynthia affirmed, answering for
Eugenia. “And most handsome.”

“Und he
ist
a duke, therefore his position must be very desired among the ladies, no?”

“Of course he is desired!” Penelope’s frustration
was accompanied by the scuff of the toe of her shoe against the carpet. “He is
everything a girl should want.”

“My admiration for Rothford does not come from his
being a duke, it is …” Eugenia did not know exactly how to phrase her regard
for him. “I must confess his appeal has nothing to do with his position or his
physical appearance … There is something about him … I’m not sure I can say.”

Franz leaned toward her as Cynthia and Penelope
had, the trio hanging on her every word.

“There was something about the way he held me in
his arms, the way he gazed into my eyes. It was very personal.” Eugenia could
not explain what she had experienced in any other terms.

“You felt a connection …” Franz held his index
finger in the air, making his point. “The meeting of two souls!”

“Yes, that’s right.” Eugenia could almost believe
that was exactly what had happened.

Cynthia and Penelope sat mute, astonished at the
dialogue between Eugenia and Franz. Whether the two friends did not know what
to say, what to add to the conversation, or simply could not comprehend that
Eugenia and Franz had reached such a level of mutual understanding left them as
the onlookers.

“You see.” Franz nodded, across his face passed a
very peculiar expression Eugenia could not quite identify. Then something appeared
… a smile, perhaps? “
Ahh
,” he intoned thoughtfully
and motioned his hands as if conducting an orchestra. “Und now the composition
of the duet begins.”

The next afternoon, Eugenia and Cynthia, sans
Penelope, chose to frequent the lending library. As they entered, they stopped
briefly to exchange pleasantries with several small circles of people sharing a
quiet
coze
. They then ordered tea and found
themselves an unoccupied table. No sooner did the tea arrive than Herr Mueller
entered.

Summons from surrounding tables beckoned for the
talented musician to join their group without success. Eugenia was quite sure
the thought of sitting with someone else had never crossed his mind. How
delightful for him that others should value his company, unlike Lady Penelope
Coddington who could not have cared less if she ever set eyes on him again.

As the three of them sat enjoying their tea, Franz
rambled on while Eugenia daydreamed. She stared off toward the entrance and
noticed the Duke of Rothford enter with two gentlemen. One she recognized as
Donald Hamby and she heard them refer to the other as Foster.

Needless to say, Eugenia’s disposition improved
immensely upon seeing Rothford. Franz must have noticed too. He halted in
midsentence to turn and see what or who had so completely captivated her
attention.

“It’s him,” Cynthia softly announced. “Your
gentleman from last evening. He—”

“Yes, it is the Duke of Rothford.” Eugenia thought
she could remain calm and unaffected by his presence but her heart raced as he
neared.

The handsome trio headed in their direction and did
not stop to greet anyone on their way to the back of the establishment. Eugenia
had expected his manner would change the moment he saw her.

She was wrong.

Rothford did not acknowledge any of them. Eugenia
had thought his attention did not matter but the unbidden tears that welled up
in her eyes as he passed her in silence told another story. She fumbled at her
reticule for a lace handkerchief and blotted away her tears. It was so
unladylike to cry in public.

She had expected some type of recognition from him.

“Oh, Eugenia, I am so sorry,” Cynthia said
soothingly. She set her cup down and laid a comforting hand upon her friend’s
arm.

“
Ist
this your duke?” Franz’s eyes narrowed and his glare followed the men with
interest.

“My duke, indeed!” Eugenia pouted, wiping the last
bit of moisture from her eyes. She sniffed and lifted her chin in new found
composure.

“I cannot believe he said nothing to you,” Cynthia
remarked quietly in disbelief.

“Manner from my country
vood
not treat a lady so.” Franz’s voice had a hard edge to it. He snatched the
napkin from his lap and dropped it on the table. “
Verzeihung
,”
he said, shooting to his feet.

“Herr Mueller, please sit down!” Eugenia said, she
hoped not too loudly. She did not wish to make her situation worse than it
already was.

He understood the warning. His gaze met hers and he
lowered himself into his seat at her silent request.

“Has he not disgraced you, Fraulein?”

“No, not at all,” she responded curtly but felt the
shame of being socially cut. “We have only shared a single dance together. I
suppose I have construed something more.” Eugenia rested back in her chair and
felt quite ashamed.

He took to his feet again. “I
vill
not allow his insufferable action to pass. Und I insist you allow me to speak
to him on your behalf!”

“No, please, Herr Mueller. I do not want you to
cause a scene!” She grasped his hand and, with a gentle tug, returned him to
his seat. “I thank you for your gallant gesture.”

Franz straightened his waistcoat and, once again,
settled in his chair. “If you ever
vish
me to
intervene, I shall be more than happy to oblige, Fraulein.”

It was then Eugenia realized she had underestimated
Herr Mueller and Penelope had completely misjudged him. It was there and then
that Eugenia decided she should spend more time with the musician and not waste
another thought on that dastardly duke.

That evening there was a rout at Countess
Helmsley’s. Eugenia felt a certain trepidation in attending a function that
might lure the Duke of Rothford. Still, she believed she could enjoy herself
even in the event he should be present.

She could ignore him just as effectively as he had
ignored her.

As she dressed for the evening, Eugenia had not
made the effort for a thorough toilette. She dressed in her azure blue gown but
had not made much of an effort with her hair. She pulled curly wisps around her
face, allowing the dramatic contrast of her rich, dark hair against the
smoothness of her flawless skin, and decided that it would have to do. She
simply did not care how she looked tonight.

Aunt Rose wandered into Eugenia’s room to check on
her progress. “I have the most delicious necklace that would go splendidly with
that gown,” she tittered.

With that, Aunt Rose stepped out of the room and
returned not more than three minutes later with an exquisite black velvet box.
She pulled up on the lid and the heavy brass hinges groaned. The box opened to
reveal a massive citrine sparkle. Lying on a pillow of pristine white satin
were a necklace, bracelet, and ear bobs.

She removed the necklace from its resting place and
laid it gently around her niece’s neck. Eugenia gazed upon her reflection,
noting that even the jewelry did not brighten her spirits.

“You shall do it justice, I think.” Aunt Rose ran
her hand over Eugenia’s head, smoothing her hair in place.

After adorning Eugenia with matching bracelet, she
announced, “You look splendid! Like a duchess!”

That was the last thing Eugenia wanted to hear.

“There, there, my dear, you will return to your
usual lively self once you’ve danced a few sets,” Aunt Rose assured her. “Next
to jewelry, the attention of young men always makes you feel better!”

Eugenia did not wish to dance. She did not wish to
hear music. She really did not wish to attend the party. However, Aunt Rose
insisted.

Once they arrived, Cynthia did her best to cheer
Eugenia, but to no avail. The several dances Eugenia managed did little to
improve her disposition. It was only with Herr Mueller’s constant attention and
generous care that she began to feel a bit better.

Franz was perhaps not the most attractive of men.
Most women might overlook his compassion and forbearance, which well
compensated for his physical inadequacy. He did not seem threatening in a
suitor type of way and perhaps that is why Eugenia found him so companionable.

Resting in a brocade chair, Eugenia sat away from
the main festivities. Franz came and left with various distractions that might
tempt her out of her current bout of the sulks. She sat quietly, her legs
crossed at the ankles in a semi-slouched position. It was hardly ladylike.

She rotated the bracelet around her wrist, pushing
gold-set stone after gold-set stone, admiring the small flashes of the yellow
citrine reflecting in the dim light. Eugenia found the sparkles so distracting,
she didn’t hear the sounds of footsteps approach.

She
startled
as a pair of
legs in cream-colored breeches appeared before her.

“I beg your pardon, Lady Eugenia. I did not mean to
startle you.”

It was the Duke of Rothford. And Eugenia had made a
point of avoiding him.

“I do not think I ever gave you permission to
address me, sir. We have not been properly introduced.” She straightened in her
chair.

Rothford reached for her arm and helped her stand.

Eugenia did not feel alarmed. She knew he wouldn’t
dare do anything threatening.

There was a roomful of people only a few feet away,
well within calling distance. Not to mention, dear little Franz might return at
any moment and come to her aid without even asking.

The Duke fingered the bracelet. “That’s quite
lovely, but it pales in comparison to your beauty.” He then tucked her gloved
hand in the crook of his arm and secured its placement, resting his hand over
hers.

Across his face he wore a smile with an uncertain
message, reminiscent of the first time she saw him, masked, crossing the room
in her direction.

“I thought you might care to dance?” He already led
her to the dance floor. His manner was too confident and very self-assured.

Eugenia wasn’t sure she cared for it. “It might be
nice if you had asked first, sir.” She had not yet graced him with a smile.

“I should like it very much if you called me
Rothford,” he drawled.

“I see no need to force familiarity when we are all
but strangers, Your Grace.” Eugenia tilted her chin into the air, showing him
that she could be just as disagreeable with him as he had been to her.

“Do you really think so?” His tone was playful as
if teasing her.

The strings struck up the beginning measures of a
waltz. Rothford wrapped his arm around her waist and gently pulled her close.

Eugenia wondered why he had acted so distant toward
her earlier, yet he offered her no explanation. What purpose did it serve to
encourage her one moment then turn his back and ignore her as he had that very
afternoon?

After their dance, they removed to the terrace,
still well in sight of the other guests. Rothford behaved quite gentlemanly
while in her company.

“He was a business associate.” The Duke finally
offered to explain his earlier behavior at the library. And Eugenia thought his
excuse had come a bit too late.

“It was quite important. I could not allow myself
to become distracted.” He applied a soft kiss to the back of her gloved hand. “I
have no doubt that you would most certainly be a considerable distraction to me.”

His eyes glistened while he charmed her. Eugenia
knew exactly what he was attempting to do, and she did her best to fight its
affects, but he was succeeding.

“If you would allow me to accompany you on the
promenade tomorrow afternoon, I give you my word that I shall be entirely at
your disposal.”

Eugenia wanted to refuse but could not bring
herself to deny him. “Very well.” She turned away to prevent him from seeing
her eyes growing moist. Was she happy he wanted to reacquaint himself with her?
Or was she relieved that she might mean something more to him?

“That’s my girl.” He bent over her hand and kissed
it again.

It remained to be seen if she was his girl or not.

“Now I regret that I must depart. Only duty of a
most serious nature could compel me to leave your side.”

Leave? But he had only arrived. Eugenia wondered
why, with his constant comings and goings, he bothered to attend these
functions.

“I did not wish to part when there was
unpleasantness between us.” He gave a slight squeeze to her hand and whispered,
“And I’m sure we have much more to look forward to in the days ahead.”

Then he left her. Eugenia watched him walk away.

She fully planned to speak to Aunt Rose about him.
Her dear beloved great-aunt, Eugenia had learned during their time together in
Brighton, was not the odd, eccentric, antiquated woman she had once believed.

In reality, Eugenia had come to learn, not much
escaped her shrewd relative. Wise beyond her three and sixty years, she
socialized in only the most elite circles and took pride in her refined manner
and exquisite good taste.

Although she may not have followed the rules of
propriety—she did tend to have her own standards—she insisted others tread a
straight and narrow path.

Yes, indeed. Her insight regarding the Duke of
Rothford would be most appreciated.

The next morning at breakfast, Aunt Rose set her
plate on the table, took up her coffee cup, and remarked, “If I am not
mistaken, I believe you met with someone of consequence last night. Do not
think that has passed my notice.”

“I did not think it had.” Eugenia sipped her
chocolate and reminded herself that not much escaped her aunt. “I am acquainted
with the Duke of Rothford.”

“You might have made him known to me. It was not
well done of you at all. He should have had your introduction through me. What
type of a gentleman dispenses with protocol?”

“I’m afraid that the masquerade portion of the
assembly had emboldened him.” Eugenia was not about to relay the entire truth
to her aunt. “He approached me for a dance.”

Aunt Rose seemed to show a bit of interest. Did she
not truly know how Eugenia and the duke had met? And here she thought her dear
relative knew everything.

“Tell me true, Auntie, is that not the precise
intent of a ‘masked ball’? For the guest to make the acquaintance of those whom
one would not, under ordinary circumstances, single out for attention?”

With his position, his interest in any woman would
have been welcome. To admit Eugenia had with the help of Penelope, gone a step
further to discover his identity, and how she had openly flirted with him,
again aided by Penelope, would be quite beyond the pale.