The Duke and the Spinster_Clean Regency Romance Page 2

  Juliana became completely still. He was striking – tall, very dark hair, a lean hard body, well displayed by perfectly tailored clothes, and a handsome face, with strong, almost severe lines to it. There was nothing of the fop or dandy about this man. Plain colours and simple elegance made him stand out far more than any amount of ostentation could. And he moved with the kind of fluid, controlled smoothness that Juliana longed to be able to emulate.

  For the first time in a very long time, Juliana was gazing at a man she found undeniably attractive. It was a rather disturbing thing to realise.

  “Ah, Juliana – see, over there by the door – the Duke of Kilmerstan has made his appearance.”

  Her father’s voice broke the spell the new arrival had cast upon her, and she turned, looking as casually unconcerned as possible.

  “Oh? That’s the Duke? I’m sure that Eleanor will be thrilled. He’s rather… severe looking, isn’t he?”

  “By all accounts, most women find him attractive. He’s unmarried, but the gossips say he’ll be looking for a wife soon, for his only heir is a distant cousin that, it’s said, he doesn’t like. His brother was killed in France, and he’s two sisters to find husbands for, so he’ll be a busy man for the next few years.”

  Her father chuckled, amused by the fact that, no matter a man’s title, some things remained the same – finding husbands for young ladies was a daunting task.

  Juliana turned back to studying the room, finding her eyes drawn to the Duke, inescapably. He had greeted various people, then stopped to talk to Baron Torsford. The eyes of most of the young women in the room were on him, and it seemed obvious that they were all hoping for his attention. One rather determined looking woman was moving in his direction. She was a little solidly built, and dressed in the height of fashion, as far as style, but in such a terrible combination of colours and patterns that Juliana felt ill at the sight.

  Observing the manoeuvring that would undoubtedly occur throughout the evening should be amusing indeed. She settled in to simply watch, quite confident that, if she stayed quietly trucked away, no-one would ask her to dance.

  ~~~~~

  Garrett had forced himself to regard the Ball at Hallingbrook Grange as potentially interesting, when his first instinct was to avoid it completely. Isabelle and Eugenia were full of enthusiasm, and his mother was determined that they took the opportunity to meet potential suitors. Apparently, there were eligible gentlemen coming from London, and Bath.

  Upon arrival at the Grange, his mother and sisters had almost immediately disappeared into the crush of people, seeking out friends to chatter with, and to leverage for introductions, leaving him to greet George, Viscount Mooresfield, at the door.

  “Good evening. I must apologise for my mother and sisters somewhat unseemly haste. It appears that the lure of gossip is greater than that of ordinary conversation.”

  “Your Grace, it’s good to see you here tonight. And as for gossip… I’m sure that your presence will set off a cascade of hope in the hearts of the unmarried ladies here, who will then discuss you incessantly. I have recently come to realise that the benefits of being betrothed are manifold, and one of those benefits is no longer being the subject of that kind of discussion and attention.”

  Garrett laughed, and gently clapped the Viscount on the shoulder.

  “Yes, congratulations. I hope that you’ll be happy. Although… I doubt you’re done with gossip, for, by marrying the baker’s daughter, you’ve given them plenty to whisper about, haven’t you?”

  “Very true, very true. But I shall weather the storm.”

  They spoke a moment more, then Garrett moved away into the room. People greeted him as he slipped through the crowds, and he could feel the eyes of the women upon him – the mothers who wanted their daughters to be a Duchess, and the daughters who craved the title. He doubted that one in twenty of them cared at all about him as a man. Although he was equally sure that they were pleased that he was young, and not ill favoured.

  He spotted Torsford and moved towards him. They had been at Eton together, and the man was as close as he had to a friend amongst the local nobility, although of late Torsford’s house parties had been drawing the wrong set. It was disturbing to see him entangled with the rakes, gamblers, and wastrels of the ton.

  Tonight, Torsford seemed in a better mood, and they spoke of the new Irish Hunter he had purchased, and his plans for his estate. Garrett carefully avoided meeting the eye of any of the young women, no matter how much they tried to attract his attention. He expected that he would, by evening’s end, be forced to dance, but he would avoid that also as long as possible.

  He scanned the room, checking who was present, and assessing the likelihood of having to deal with people he found annoying. As he did, a most unwelcome sight greeted him. Lady Prudence Baggington, headed in his direction. She was unmistakeable - her gown, as always, well cut, in a most fashionable style that displayed her ample assets well, but made from a fabric of a pattern and colour as strident and grating to the eye as her voice was to the ear. It was enough to give a man a headache. Lady Prudence almost towed her mother, Viscountess Mortel, across the floor.

  He sighed, and Torsford glanced past him, then grinned.

  “Ah, the baggage has seen you. You’re doomed, old man, you know that she thinks she’s fated to be with you, or some such rubbish.”

  “I know it all too well. I must escape her somehow, or I’ll be forced to dance with her.”

  Garrett shuddered, and Torsford laughed again, completely lacking in sympathy. Lady Prudence’s pursuit of Garrett was rather a joke amongst the local nobility. But it was too late for escape – Lady Prudence and Lady Mortel were upon them.

  “Good evening, Your Grace, so delightful to see you here! And your sisters too – we haven’t seen enough of you, this last few years.”

  Garrett looked at her, and swallowed, trying not to breathe too deeply, for her choice of scents was as aggressive and tasteless as her choice of fabrics.

  “Well, mourning does rather limit one’s socialising.”

  His tone was dry and he was looking desperately for a way to end the conversation rapidly.

  “It does, it does. Still, you’re past that now, aren’t you? Time to move on with your life.”

  Lady Mortel looked significantly at her daughter as she spoke, and Garrett forced himself not to visibly flinch.

  “Indeed. And the first part of that will be giving my sisters the Season they missed.” Garrett saw a chance, and looked to the drapes near the terrace doors, pretending to see someone. “And it seems my sister wants me now. Do excuse me.”

  He turned and fled, feeling Torsford’s amused eyes upon him as he did. But at least the man had the decency to continue the conversation with Lady Prudence and her mother, forcing them to stay and talk, out of politeness.

  Garrett slipped out onto the terrace with a sense of relief, the slightly cool air of evening clearing the last of Lady Prudence’s terrible perfume from his nostrils. He moved to the end of the terrace, into the dark shadowed area past the windows, and stood, leaning back against the rail, the scent of the riot of summer roses in the garden below surrounding him.

  As he stood, a door opened at the far end of the terrace, and a woman stepped through. The light from the open door briefly showed him a tall elegant figure, well-shaped and dressed simply in a beautiful gown of an amber shade, with hair like burnished gold coiled upon her head, a single tendril falling from it over her shoulder and drawing the eye inexorably to her décolletage. Then the door closed, and she was just a shadow amongst shadows.

  He did not move. He simply watched. Why was she out here? And why alone? Her movements were smooth, careful, and beautiful, almost like dance, as if she took precise care with every step. Everything about her was in contrast to the young women who hoped to marry him, and as opposite as could be imagined to Lady Prudence. He felt a sudden desire to meet her, to find out more. He shook the thought aside – what kind
of foolish idea was that!

  Yet he moved forward, slowly, watching her and, when she slipped back into the ballroom, he also slipped in through the nearest door. Once inside, he halted, and watched her.

  She went straight towards a secluded corner, and sat beside an older man and woman, and a younger girl. Her family, he supposed. Seeing her in full light, he was even more struck by her beauty, and by her self-effacing behaviour. She made no attempt to be seen, no attempt to do anything but sit quietly, unlike the other girl – her sister? – who was up again, tugging her mother after her, and off to speak to a group of women on the other side of the room. He had never before seen a beautiful woman choose to hide away in a circumstance such as this.

  Intrigued, he turned away, wondering who she was. He searched the room carefully, identified the location of Lady Prudence, and was relieved to see her totally absorbed in a conversation with a collection of the more gossipy, older women. She would, hopefully, remain engaged by the gossip for some considerable time. He went in search of his mother and sisters.

  Perhaps they knew who the beautiful woman in the corner was. In the end, when he found them, he did not ask, for the thought of giving his mother the slightest hint that he found any woman interesting was terrifying. He was relieved to see that Isabelle was looking happy, and as if she was enjoying herself, for the first time since her short visit with a friend in London. He stayed with them for a short while, then sought out Mooresfield.

  “Mooresfield, as the host, I make the assumption that you actually know everyone here?”

  “That’s perhaps rash, Kilmerstan, but why do you ask?”

  “I’ve seen a family I can’t place, and I’m curious.”

  “Point them out then.”

  Garrett did, indicating the couch and chairs in the corner, where the beautiful woman still sat, talking to the man he assumed was her father.

  “Oh, yes, you wouldn’t have met them. They haven’t been to town the last few Seasons. Reputed to be a bit short on funds. But they’re here now to, I suspect, try to marry off the younger daughter. The Earl of Delbarton, Lady Delbarton, and the two daughters. Lady Juliana and Lady Eleanor, if I remember correctly. Shall I introduce you?”

  “If you would.”

  They moved across the room, and came to a halt before the father and daughter, who rose at their approach.

  “My Lady, my Lord, may I present His Grace, the Duke of Kilmerstan?”

  The woman dropped into a curtsey worthy of court and her father bowed.

  “Delighted to meet you, Your Grace. I am the Earl of Delbarton, and this is my daughter, Lady Juliana.”

  ~~~~~

  Juliana could barely breathe. The Duke! Being introduced to her. She smiled, and hoped that her curtsey was good enough, and that he would not expect her to do more than greet him.

  Across the room, Eleanor had turned, and seen what was happening. Suddenly, for the first time, she envied her sister.

  Chapter Three

  Garrett had, in the end, stayed far longer at the Ball than he had intended to. Lady Juliana had proven to be capable of intelligent conversation, although she had been, unlike nearly every woman he had ever met, completely self-effacing. She had seemed puzzled that he would wish to converse with her, and had blushed charmingly when he had asked her to dance.

  It was almost as if she was not used to receiving such invitations. But that was a ridiculous thought! Certainly, a woman as beautiful as she was would have been frequently sought out by gentlemen. Still, she had been very shy. He had timed his invitation to dance well (if by accident), as the next dance had been a waltz. She had hesitated, but her father had smiled at him, and given her a little push in his direction.

  She had taken his offered arm, her hand shaking a little as he led her to the floor. And once he had her in his arms, she had, little by little, relaxed. Her first steps were uncertain, then, as he guided her, she seemed to find the pattern, and became a delight to dance with.

  He had asked about her interests and, after looking startled again, she had spoken, tentatively, about reading, and the study of scent making. He was even more intrigued than he had been before. For she was not at all what he had come to expect from young women, especially in her interests. Most women would not admit to liking reading, not wishing to be seen as a bluestocking, and he had never met a woman who was interested in something so close to the scientific as the art of manufacturing scents. They had become engrossed in the conversation, as they danced, and she had become like a feather in his grasp, flowing with him perfectly, an absolute delight. It was as if, once she was not thinking about dancing, her body simply took over, and did what was needed. As if her thoughts actually had been interfering with her dancing, until distracted.

  When the music had finally ceased, she had seemed startled to realise that she was on a dance floor. She had blushed prettily again, and allowed him to lead her back to her family. Her mother and sister were waiting with her father, the sister flushed with the effects of dancing. He had been introduced, and had stayed to talk to the family for some time. The younger sister was pretty, but was, in his estimation, just like all of the other hopeful young women – rather boring – all flutter, and flirtation, with very few solid thoughts in her head. But Lady Juliana had seemed surprised when he had continued to focus his attention on her, rather than transferring it to her sister. He suspected that he was seeing the reason for her self-effacing behaviour.

  Now, the next morning, as he lay watching the drift of gilded dust in the sunbeam through his window, he found that he wanted to discover more about her.

  ~~~~~

  Juliana woke slowly, for a moment unsure where she was. Then memory returned. Her face heated with a blush, although there was no-one to see. She lay in the comfortable bed in Hardcastle House, considering the previous evening with amazement. It seemed completely impossible, yet it had happened.

  She had danced with the Duke of Kilmerstan – a waltz no less! – without disgracing herself. She had conversed with him, at length, and had admitted to her true interests in life, and he had not turned away, had not looked at her as if she were a creature with two heads, as most gentlemen did when a woman admitted to liking reading, and other activities requiring intelligence. And, most important of all, when he had then been introduced to Eleanor, he had not turned that way and abandoned her. He had smiled at Eleanor, then turned back to her, Juliana! As if that was the most natural thing in the world.

  She treasured that fact, held the memory to her. For, surely, it was not something that could last. Almost certainly, he would never look at her like that again. But for one night, at least, she had not been clumsy, had not been mocked, had even, perhaps, felt desirable, beautiful. Even if his actions had been purely born of an innate sense of courtesy, she was beyond grateful for it, for him. These memories would transform her perception of the world, for years to come – she was determined of it.

  She rose from her bed, and rang for her maid, suddenly far more interested in the next few days of the house party than she had expected to be.

  ~~~~~

  Jasper Numbton, the Earl of Fondleton, had met Viscount Mooresfield in London, in a less than salubrious establishment, before the Viscount’s betrothal. He had, upon hearing of the planned house party, invited himself, turning up on the doorstep and expecting to be housed, with his best aristocratic arrogance on display.

  It always worked. Servants seemed unable to argue with an Earl. And this house party was most entertaining. There was so much potential. With a little careful assessment of the other guests, he was certain that he could come out of the week with either financial or other gain. The Ball the previous evening had given him significant insight into the local gentry, and the various attendees. There were men of wealth who could, he was sure, be gulled at cards, there were various young ladies who would provide light entertainment, and there were a few older ladies who might, if handled the right way, provide physical pleasure, without
the need for annoying things like marriage.

  He had taken particular note of the older unmarried ladies of quality, for those on the edge of spinsterhood were usually ripe for the picking, easily swayed by flattery, and then by the threat of exposure. He believed that he had chosen his target for the week. One Lady Juliana Willoughby. She was, he had determined, twenty-three, with a failed season behind her, a prettier younger sister, and a father who really couldn’t afford more than one dowry. Perfect. Especially as she was rather striking, almost elegant, in a quiet way. Perfectly suited to be his mistress.

  He settled to break his fast in Mooresfield’s breakfast room, smiling at the thoughts of the pleasant days ahead, once he had trapped her into his bed.

  ~~~~~

  “I was pleased to see you actually dancing at Mooresfield’s Ball last night! There may be hope for you yet. And you even spent time talking to young ladies, rather than just your men friends.”

  Garrett plastered a smile on his face, and provided the minimal required response to his mother’s words.

  “I am quite capable of being socially polite, Mother. And, actually, I rather enjoy dancing, if the woman I am dancing with is not incompetent.”

  “Well, you were lucky then – for the rumours I’d heard suggested that Lady Juliana Willoughby was beyond incompetent – was, in fact, unutterably clumsy.”

  Garrett stared at his mother in bemusement.

  “I find that hard to believe, given the very physical evidence to the contrary that I experienced last night.”

  “Nonetheless, it’s what the gossips say. She had one Season, a couple of years ago, and it was an unmitigated disaster. So either she has learned a lot since then, or you, my boy, have a miraculous and transformative touch.”

  Garrett found himself struggling for a response to that, and the barely repressed giggles emanating from his sisters did not help at all. He glared at Isabelle, who merely giggled more.