A Duke to Elude: Sweet Regency Romance (Sherton Sisters Book 1) Page 10

  But the king was counting on him. With the monarch’s health being so precarious in recent years, it was all the more necessary for him to rely upon his advisors. It was an honour that his king had taken him to fill the previous Duke of Wexford’s place at his side. But it was a responsibility James didn’t feel qualified for. And he took it very seriously. He could not allow a debutante to stand in the way of protecting the realm.

  Setting his chin in his customary determined stance, James turned his attention away from the Sherton chit. If he was serious about his effort not to draw attention to his association with her, he would have to dance with others. Even if that made it appear that he was ready to be in the Marriage Mart — that was a small price to pay. In all reality, it would change very little. Matchmaking mamas had been hoping to nab him for their darlings since he had come of age. One could consider it a miracle that he had managed to remain unwed this long. Not that twenty-nine was so very aged, but he had plenty of miles on him despite his years.

  Spotting the small clutch of young women standing together on the sidelines, James fought an unwelcome tide of warmth as he remembered Rosabel’s offering him Miss Bridgestone as a potential bride. He wasn’t sure if it was to spite the lady or to amuse her, but he soon found himself escorting the wallflower to the dance floor.

  James accepted he was not a gentleman when he caught Lady Rosabel’s eye as he partnered Miss Bridgestone in the quadrille. Rosabel was expertly and gracefully following the lead of some young baron from the wilds of Leicester. After that one speaking glance in his direction, she maintained her focus on her partner and the dance. Wexford would do well to do the same.

  “Are you having a pleasant evening, Miss Bridgestone?”

  “I am, thank you.”

  James was surprised when nothing more was forthcoming, so he tried again.

  “Have you been to Rose Park before?”

  “No, Your Grace, this is my first time.”

  Feeling his lips twitch, James stifled his amusement. It would not help matters in the least if he were to laugh at the young woman.

  “Are you enjoying the Season?”

  “Very much so, thank you, Your Grace.”

  He had thought Rosabel wasn’t a chatterer, but Miss Bridgestone took it to the extreme. Not that James enjoyed dancing with a partner that couldn’t hold her tongue, but surely a little conversation wouldn’t be too much to ask for. Just as Rosabel thought their dance was unending, he was having that same sensation now with Miss Bridgestone. It felt like an involuntary reflex when his gaze again sought that of Lady Rosabel as he escorted his partner from the dance floor.

  A cotillion was just about to start as he and Miss Bridgestone approached her friends. Questioning his sanity for the first time that evening, James invited Miss Perkins to partner with him. Her expression was slightly quizzical, but she accepted readily enough.

  James was relieved when she turned out to be much easier to carry a conversation with. Until she started to chatter.

  “And then Lana told me about the pistachio flavour, and I just had to try it. Have you tried it yet, Your Grace? You really must. It is the best I’ve ever had.”

  Wexford blinked, chastising himself for allowing his mind to wander for a moment.

  “I have not yet had the pleasure,” he managed to respond before she was off on another gambit.

  “And the ribbons are much better on Bond Street than anything we could ever get in our village so, of course, they all have to be replaced. You know how Lady Beaverbrook can be.”

  Thankfully, this time, she didn’t seem to be awaiting a response from him. All James needed to do was nod and smile from time to time and the woman seemed content. From observation alone, he would have considered Miss Bridgestone would be the chatterbox and Miss Perkins would be the silent one, but that certainly wasn’t his experience this evening. He could imagine Rosabel’s eyes dancing with humour at him, even as their corners would squint in that attractive way they had when she was trying hard not to reveal her amusement.

  In that moment, Wexford accepted that he was in trouble. The young woman was embedded in his mind. It was unacceptable. He wished wholeheartedly that he could wash his hands of the entire affair and return to his estate. But King George was counting on his discrete inquires and swift solution to this mess. If he couldn’t manage a few debutantes, the monarch would need to wash his hands of his courtier.

  Not that James would mind being dismissed from court, but it was his duty. Besides, he couldn’t allow Prescott and his cronies any more influence than they already had.

  With a bow and a smile, he was able to rid himself of the chattering young woman, and he decided that he had done enough to cover up for any observers that could have remarked upon his attention to Rosabel. There would be more for the gossips to chatter about, and he had enough chatter for one day. He would rather pursue his other obligations, including the pile of papers that were surely growing on his desk.

  ∞∞∞

  Rosabel’s face was beginning to ache from the effort it took to maintain her politely pleasant expression throughout the rest of the interminable night. She could have pled a headache, but she didn’t want to spoil the night for her sisters. And even the countess seemed to be enjoying her evening spent with her cronies as they sat in a corner gossiping while simultaneously keeping their eyes trained on the goings on of the gathered ton. The only time Bel saw her mother leave her clutch of friends and other matrons was when her father had claimed his wife for a waltz. It was also the only time she had felt her face relax into its first genuine smile that day. After almost twenty-five years of marriage, her parents still enjoyed dancing together. It nearly brought a tear to her eye. But it fully filled her with envy as well as determination to achieve that for herself.

  She could not allow Wexford to intimidate her into compromising herself, thus ruining her sisters’ chances as well as her own. She would have to figure out how to fob him off. But her mind was running around in circles. Perhaps, if they could ever leave this wretched ball, she could think it through calmly. Rosabel comforted herself with the thought that she could at least confide in Sally. Her maid had helped her talk through her issues before. Sally would certainly be earning her wages tonight, Rosabel thought with a guilty wince as she realized she would need to keep the other woman up into the wee hours to help her with her thorny problem.

  If she were asked, Rosabel didn’t think she would be able to account for who she danced with that night, aside from Wexford, of course. Her mind couldn’t stop circling around the problem of what to do about him. So much so that she only went through the necessary motions for the entire evening. Luckily, those motions were very familiar, and she was reasonably sure no one was the wiser. That was until the family was all finally in the carriage going home.

  “You are very quiet tonight, Bel. Are you feeling unwell?”

  Rosabel was surprised by her mother’s words. Not that the woman was cold toward her children, but she rarely expressed concern. Lady Sherton expected a certain standard of behaviour from her daughters, and they knew they would hear from her if they didn’t reach it.

  “Bel is always quiet,” Hilaria remarked before Rosabel could respond. Bel almost smiled over her sister’s words.

  Their mother didn’t offer much of a reply, but Rosabel could feel her watchful gaze.

  “Perhaps you ought to stay in bed tomorrow,” the countess finally said when it became apparent that Rosabel wasn’t going to comment.

  This finally goaded Bel into speech.

  “I’m feeling fine, Mother, I assure you. There is nothing in the least wrong with me.”

  It was a bit of a lie, but only in the mental sense. Rosabel was certain she wasn’t ill, merely stressed. But she wasn’t about to explain that to her mother. She added a bit of a smile as she watched her mother examining her.

  “I will monitor how I feel and take some time for myself if I should start feeling less than ideal, I pro
mise.”

  That must have been the right thing to say, as the countess finally turned to the other girls.

  “Hilaria, I noticed you weren’t dancing very much this evening. Why was that? You didn’t refuse someone did you?”

  “Hardly, Mother. There weren’t so many applicants for my hand that I found it necessary to decline any.”

  Rosabel’s heart hurt for her sister despite that one’s caustic attitude. Had she not been asked to dance? That was most unusual.

  Their mother obviously thought so, too. She heaved a heavy sigh.

  “I suppose I’ll have to bestir myself at the next ball to introduce you to appropriate partners. I thought you girls would be able to arrange these things for yourselves.”

  Rosabel could almost feel her sister’s discomfort filling the carriage. “That probably won’t be necessary,” Hilaria said, turning her head toward the window so her face and expression weren’t visible. Rosabel stared at Hilaria’s profile. Her sister’s reaction was unusual for her temperament of late. Stifling her sigh, she tried to make a mental effort to keep an eye out for her sister. She wasn’t sure how she would do it with her own concerns taking her attention, but surely if she could get Wexford to cease his questions, she could turn her focus to the other matters at hand. Namely, ensuring she and her sisters were wed happily and appropriately.

  Fighting a grimace, Rosabel acknowledged that she hadn’t proven to be successful at that. Seeing as this was her third Season, she clearly didn’t know how to accomplish a happy and appropriate wedded state. At least, not for herself. But perhaps if she could manage to arrange successful matches for her sisters, she would be in a better position to find one for herself. Vicky, at least, should be easy, as she hadn’t set an impossibly high standard like Hil had.

  If she could stop thinking about Wexford, she should be able to find Vigilia a suitable mate. Of course, then Hilaria would be even more difficult. If she didn’t like that Rosabel was still unmarried, then she would probably find Vicky’s marriage before her to be an offence as well. But that couldn’t be avoided. And since it was more likely to help Rosabel and Hilaria find husbands of their own, Bel wouldn’t allow Hil’s potential dismay to deter her. But first, she needed to deal with the Wexford problem.

  Sooner rather than later, it would seem, since he had claimed he would be calling for her in just a few hours. They had remained dancing for so long and he was planning to collect her before the fashionable hour so, she wouldn’t have much time to spend abed. Rosabel could feel her mother’s eyes upon her once more, so she too averted her face. She had become skilled at hiding her feelings, but Bel had the notion that one could hide nothing from one’s mother.

  Rosabel’s feet were aching, and she heaved a relieved sigh as she slumped against the door as soon as it closed behind her.

  “Oy, my lady, seems to me you didn’t have the best night. Was Lady Sherton’s supper not to your liking? You still look as pretty as a picture, so I know it can’t be your appearance that’s got you down.”

  Rosabel smiled at her maid’s words.

  “You’re quite right, Sally, I did not have the best night. And no, it had nothing to do with my appearance, nor Grandmother’s supper. In fact, the supper was delicious. I think my sisters enjoyed the company more than I did, but it was fine enough.”

  “So, what seems to be the problem, then?”

  By now, Bel had come away from the door and Sally was helping her out of her gown. Once she was in just her chemise and other underthings, she flung herself across her bed.

  “Wexford is demanding to know what I know about Prescott.”

  The gasp from Sally somewhat mollified Rosabel’s lacerated nerves. At least someone understood the difficult position she was in.

  “What happened?” Sally asked as she urged her mistress up and over to the dressing table so she could remove the pins from her hair.

  Rosabel slouched over, all her energy drained.

  “Last night, at the ball, I had danced with Wexford. Nothing of importance had been said while we danced. It was quite pleasant, in fact. I even found myself thinking that I wished he wasn’t a duke.”

  Sally nodded, well aware of her mistress’ desire to lead a simpler life than that of duchess, away from watchful eyes.

  Rosabel sighed. “But he is a duke. So, when our dance concluded, I walked away from him without any longing looks over my shoulder.”

  “Not that you would do something so vulgar anyway, my lady.”

  Bel had to laugh at her maid’s defensive tone. “No, you’re right, I wouldn’t, but I didn’t even feel inclined despite how appealing Wexford is. Anyhow, as the evening progressed, I caught glimpses of him from time to time, but didn’t speak with him anymore.” She paused in her narration when the last pin was removed, and her long hair tumbled down her back. When Sally picked up a brush and started brushing through the thick strands, Rosabel sighed with relief as her tension began to seep away.

  “So, where did the trouble come in?” Sally prodded.

  “I don’t even recall at the moment who I was partnered with. I’m fairly certain it was a quadrille. Or maybe a cotillion. Anyway, that hardly matters, but as we circulated through the dance floor, I could clearly see Wexford. He was in conversation with Prescott right at the edge of the dancing area. It appeared to be more than a passing greeting. Of course, I couldn’t hear anything. And Wexford is so close with his thoughts, hardly anything can be read on his face even when you’re deep in conversation with him yourself, let alone across a crowded room. But from what I could see, they were deep in conversation.”

  Rosabel paused for a moment before she added her thoughts.

  “Just that very fact quite puts me out of charity with Wexford and adds to the thought that I have no interest in being courted by him.”

  “Is he offering to court you?” Sally was puzzled.

  “No. He is offering to interrogate me about Prescott.”

  “But I don’t understand why.”

  “I don’t really understand it either, to be honest with you. Wexford says it’s because I was paying too much attention to his conversation with the cad that night. I tried to tell him he had caught my eye because he’s so handsome, but he didn’t believe me. Which really, that’s very strange, don’t you think? Surely, he’s stared at all the time. He really is quite good looking. I don’t see why he’s so convinced it was because of Prescott.”

  “But it was because of Prescott, wasn’t it, my lady?”

  “Well, of course it was, but I can’t tell him that, can I? It’ll ruin me.”

  “Surely, the duke is too much of a gentleman to tell.”

  “I don’t really want to take a chance on that, Sally. Remember, if I’m ruined so will Hilaria and Vicky be.”

  “His lordship, your father, wouldn’t allow it to come to that.”

  Rosabel shrugged. “We agreed at the time that it wasn’t worth testing that theory.”

  “Perhaps it’s time we rethink our strategy.”

  “Why? Just because Wexford is asking? It’s none of his business. And so, I shall tell him. He’ll be calling for me at ten.”

  “Ten? In the morning? But that’s not quite eight hours from now.” Sally’s plaintive cry made Rosabel smile.

  “That’s what I said when he brought it up, but he was quite insistent. I thought about telling him off, but he said he would come knocking and would speak with my father if I wasn’t ready. I would rather keep all of this as quiet as possible. So, you will have to make sure I’m ready.”

  “If you’re certain.” Sally sounded uncertain enough for the both of them.

  “I’m sorry, Sally. You’re going to be exhausted from this. You’ll most likely have to accompany me, as my sisters won’t be awake. Not that I would want to bring either of them with me anyway. Since it’ll be daylight and he’ll surely bring an open carriage, having you along should be sufficient to protect my reputation, even if we’re seen. But the ton
gues will surely wag.”

  “Perhaps you’ll become even more popular if you’re seen to be pursued by Wexford.”

  Rosabel shrugged. That was not her ambition and the least of her worries at that moment.

  “Do you think you’ll be able to rise in time?”

  “Oh, of course, my lady. I’m always up early.”

  “Really? Even when you’ve had to wait up for me?”

  Now it was the maid’s turn to shrug. “I often nap after you leave for the evening, while I await your return.” She blushed as though confessing a grave sin.

  “Did you tonight?”

  Rosabel’s heart pinched a little, knowing she was putting the maid on the spot, but she had to know if she could rely on her to wake up in time.

  “I did.”

  “Wonderful, that’s such a relief.”

  “You won’t tell Mrs. Philips?”

  “No, why would I?”

  “She thinks I do your mending while you’re out at night.”

  Finally, Rosabel had a reason to laugh. “Would she expect you to do other chores?”

  “Probably.”

  “Well, seeing as you always have all my things well taken care of, I don’t see that there’s anything for Mrs. Philips to know about. You probably do all the chores when you get up so early in the morning. So really, it’s just an equalizing. A body needs its sleep. I’m sorry if my asking embarrassed you. I just need to be sure that you will be able to wake me up. I need to be dressed and ready in case he does turn up. I have a hard time believing that Wexford will manage to be out of bed at such an early hour, let alone calling round for me. But I need to be prepared in case he does.”

  “Have you told Lady Sherton?”

  Despite her usual ability to hide her feelings, Rosabel’s cheeks heated. “No. I was planning to leave her a note. Since I’m that sure he won’t come, I didn’t think there was any reason to raise a hue and a cry needlessly.”

  The maid nodded and, having finished getting her mistress ready for bed, prodded Rosabel up from the dressing table.