A Duke to Elude: Sweet Regency Romance (Sherton Sisters Book 1) Page 7

  Her heart sank further as she imagined her mother’s reticence to match the younger girls was because she, Rosabel, was still unwed. But that was an antiquated tradition that she refused to feel rushed by. She gave her head a shake and returned her attention to her sister.

  “Have you seen Hilaria? I would have expected her to be on the dance floor the entire night.”

  Vicky grinned. “She has been talking about it enough, hasn’t she?” There was a pause while the younger girl looked around the glittering, crowded ballroom. “No, I haven’t seen her, but that isn’t really saying much. With how many are squeezed in here this evening, she could be just a few paces away and we might not see her.”

  “We should be able to see the ridiculous feathers she had her maid stick in her hair this evening. I swear, I do often wonder what that girl is thinking.”

  Vicky’s grin had not abated. “It is hard to fathom at times that we are all from the same household.”

  “And related. And not even that far apart in age. Honestly, she is a mystery much of the time.”

  There was no further discussion as they were swept into the next dance by their partners. A pleasant interlude passed. Rosabel, like all her sisters, did love to dance. She particularly enjoyed the country dances that didn’t allow a great deal of opportunity to converse. There was just the music and the movement. It was the purest joy she could experience during the Season. By the midpoint, the steps were familiar, and she knew she could trust the other dancers to keep their parts, so Bel allowed her gaze to drift around the ballroom once more.

  She was looking for Hilaria, but her gaze stuttered to a stop when it landed upon Wexford. There was just something so compelling about the man. But she was puzzled why he would be in conversation with the cad, Lord Prescott. It lowered her opinion of him considerably. Not that he looked at all pleased to be having the conversation, but he did appear engrossed in it. A part of Rosabel wished she was near enough to overhear what was being said, while most of her was glad she was not.

  She couldn’t tolerate Viscount Prescott despite how rude that made her feel. She wouldn’t want to risk being drawn into their conversation. Despite her aversion to Prescott, he was always drawn to her and would invariably try to speak with her whenever they were in the same room. It was as though he had completely forgotten their history. Or perhaps he thought to discomfit her.

  Her interest must not have been sufficiently hidden, though she had tried to be discreet, only allowing her gaze to alight upon them when the dance put them directly in front of her. It didn’t look like a light social visit. From what she could see of Wexford’s face, he seemed totally focused upon Lord Prescott’s words. Until his gaze locked on hers. Rosabel tried to tear her eyes away from his and appear unaffected, as though she hadn’t just been caught examining him while he was deep in conversation with someone.

  Willing her face not to betray the smallest inkling of her feelings, Rosabel addressed some innocuous question to her dance partner. The steps of the dance took her away from him before he could answer, which was just as well as she had no idea what she had actually asked the gentleman.

  The rest of the night passed in a blur during which she found herself avoiding both Lord Prescott and Wexford. It wasn’t hard to do as she spent the entire evening on the dance floor, but it left her sufficiently exhausted that she slept late the next morning.

  Chapter Seven

  James struggled to keep his focus on Prescott. It was made more difficult by knowing that Rosabel had been watching. What did the girl know? Did she know anything? Why would she have been interested in his conversation with the bounder?

  If she hadn’t looked so intent, he would have thought it was merely the interest of attraction. That would have been flattering. This was not. While the lady nearly always maintained a neutral expression on her face, he had come to find that he could read her fairly well, despite her attempts to hide her thoughts. It had been contempt clearly pinching her face. He doubted if many would have perceived it, she had been almost smiling, but her eyes had told a different story. One she probably thought she had kept to herself.

  He needed to know what she knew.

  But the girl managed to avoid him for the rest of the evening. She had made it appear as though it was happenstance, but whenever he approached her, she was just accepting some gentleman’s hand in the dance or for an escort to supper. And then she was gone. He supposed she might have multiple engagements like he had, but it felt as though she were escaping him.

  He would have to call on her. The gossips would think he was courting her, but that was the price he’d have to pay. He supposed she would have to pay it, too, but this was too important to worry about such trivialities.

  After a very busy evening and a night of almost no sleep, he was up and dressed and striding down the street in front of the Shertons’ townhouse. He stood on the stairs, gazing at the front door, wondering if this was all worth it for the briefest moment. Taking a deep breath, he climbed purposefully upward before banging firmly with the knocker.

  “Is Lady Sherton receiving today?” he asked the haughty looking butler, who surely must have known who he was but couldn’t be bothered to offer any deference. It was a rather rhetorical question anyway, as Wexford could hear the hubbub of voices coming from the front rooms of the house.

  “If you’ll follow me, Your Grace,” the butler stated rather than asked. James stifled his amusement. He was sufficiently aware of his consequence to appreciate when it was ignored.

  “His Grace, the Duke of Wexford, to see you, my lady.” The butler announced him officially at the door, causing all eyes in the room to turn in his direction.

  Wexford reminded himself that he was used to such scrutiny. It was why his valet took such pains with him multiple times each day. James rather thought his valet was more conscious of Wexford’s importance than James himself was. It was just a fact of his life, not something he gave a great deal of thought to. Not until that moment, rather. In that moment he was aware of all the eyes, but most particularly those of one lady. He had never felt so conspicuous before, despite being a duke of the realm and a leader of fashion.

  He wouldn’t be able to say that he enjoyed the sensation. James had never felt uncomfortable being himself ever, not even as a boy. He was quite convinced that, thanks to the valet who had been his companion since he went to Eton, he hadn’t even gone through the awkward stage that most adolescents face. But he, in this moment, rather thought he could appreciate what other, more pimpled contemporaries must have gone through. It was dreadful and he would not have it.

  “Good day,” he offered to the room with an elegant bow before making his way to Lady Sherton and bowing before her once more. “You are inundated, I see, my lady. You must be so pleased.”

  The countess tittered before him, and he wondered how this woman could have produced the glorious creature that was Lady Rosabel. Wexford restrained his eyes from drifting in her direction. It would cause enough talk that he was there; he didn’t want to draw more attention toward the two of them than necessary.

  “Won’t you take a seat?” Lady Sherton gestured toward the settee next to her. Wexford sat and passed a few moments speaking empty inanities about the various entertainments they had enjoyed in recent days. After a few moments, she finally allowed him to leave. “Never mind with an old woman, you are no doubt more interested in some of the youngsters. But you were exceedingly gracious, I’ll grant you that.”

  Wexford allowed a smile but not the chuckle he felt pressing against his breastbone. Again, he needed to remain on his guard. He bowed once more before turning to the rest of the room.

  Of course, the occupants of the room had made a show of carrying on their conversations, but he knew every one of them had been straining to hear what he was discussing with the countess, despite how uninspired it might have been. Everyone, that was, but the lady he was there to see.

  Rosabel’s back was toward him as she s
at in a window seat with another debutante. She appeared almost animated, which led James to surmise that she was either very nervous or the other young woman was the best friend she had ever encountered.

  Considering Lady Rosabel’s confused reaction to her sister having a best friend, James was reasonably certain it was nerves, not joy causing her to be a little warmer than usual. He would never want to stir expectations in Hilaria’s mind or heart so, James turned instead to Lady Vigilia, who was in a small cluster of youngsters, most of whom scattered at his approach. It was, on occasion, remarkably convenient to be a duke, he thought with an inner smirk as he sat upon the newly vacated seat by the young woman’s side.

  “You lot are very popular. It’s a good thing your father’s house boasts such large receiving rooms.”

  “Isn’t it, though? Especially with three of us to fire off at once. I only hope the younger two have lots of friends when it’s their turn because it would be the very worst if their receiving rooms felt empty.”

  “Perhaps there are some smaller rooms that could serve the purpose,” he suggested, prompting a grin from the young woman.

  “That there are, in fact. You’d make an excellent chaperone, Your Grace.”

  The girl’s easy-going manner and lack of simpering was refreshing. He quite liked Lady Vigilia. James wondered if he ought to help her find a match. Not that he’d ever tried his hand at matchmaking, but it was in his nature to find solutions. Lady Vigilia might be perfect for his younger brother or his nephew or perhaps Crossley’s brother or one of his nephews, he mused.

  “I don’t really see myself as the mama type.”

  His slight jest caused the girl’s grin to widen.

  “Perhaps not. I don’t think a mob cap would suit you.” Her eyes danced even as she tried to keep her voice grave.

  “Certainly not. I shudder to think how my valet would react if I were to muss my hair with a cap.”

  She giggled, but it didn’t grate on his nerves.

  “Don’t you ever wear a hat? Surely, he must be used to dealing with the consequences.”

  “I’m quite sure the hats I have designed do not do the same damage that a mob cap would do.”

  She shrugged. “Surely, you could have them designed, too.”

  Finally, he laughed. “You might be onto something. Custom made mob caps. Do you think we could start a trend?”

  “I couldn’t, but you might be able to pull it off.” She leaned back as though to examine him. “But I’m sorry to have to tell you that you’ll have to change everything else while you’re at it. I don’t think even the Duke of Wexford could pair a cap with those Hessians.”

  James laughed along with her, even though it was somewhat at his expense.

  “Sadly, I think I’ll have to agree with you. Alas.”

  Now the girl was gazing at him wistfully. “Is it nice being able to set trends?”

  “Not particularly,” he answered her honestly, not comfortable with the admiring gaze she was casting him. It wasn’t the admiration of attraction - that he was somewhat immune to. But seeing a young girl looking at him like he was a hero was not something he could accept. “It takes more imagination than I can actually claim credit for.” He leaned closer and added softly, “It’s all the work of my valet.”

  She pulled back from him and giggled but then nodded as though that made complete sense. “I suppose you have bigger things on your mind than inventing the next cravat knot.”

  “Rather more, yes,” he agreed with an answering grin.

  Now the girl’s eyes turned shrewd. “Why are you speaking with me? I’m fairly certain it is Bel you’d rather be visiting.”

  James felt his eyebrows inch toward his hairline but tried not to freeze the girl out for her presumptuous question. He was unused to people speaking their true thoughts to him. She was a delightful girl, and he would hate to hurt her feelings.

  “Does no one ever call on you? I find that highly questionable, Lady Vigilia.”

  “Oh, people call on me.” She didn’t look in the least cowed by his presence or his question. “But you took her for a drive yesterday, and I don’t think you’re so daft as to try to court two sisters from the same house.”

  James nearly choked on the gasp that wanted to escape him. Even Rosabel’s sister thought he was courting her. He should have managed to be more discrete. He tried to turn the subject slightly.

  “Not so daft,” he mused. “Do you know, I cannot recall anyone ever implying that I was in the least bit daft? You continue to provide me with novel experiences.”

  Vigilia laughed but clearly hadn’t been distracted when she elevated an eyebrow in a clearly questioning manner. James ignored it, knowing there was little she could do about it. He again met her shrewdly attentive gaze, surprised at how similar and yet different the two sisters were. Their watchful eyes seemed to see more than he was comfortable with, but while Rosabel was as contained as she seemed able to be, Vigilia was pretty much an open book.

  James was about to regain his feet and take his leave of Lady Vigilia when he realized he couldn’t invite Rosabel to go for a drive for a second day in a row without being prepared to send an announcement to the papers. He had thought to invite her to stroll around the block with him, but he knew that he was being as daft as the younger woman had asked him about.

  Rosabel would never accompany him without a chaperone or companion of some sort. He doubted the countess would consider a maid to be sufficient at this point and would require they be accompanied by a sister or two to observe all the proprieties. Of course, if it was two sisters, that might afford him an opportunity for private conversation with Bel, if the other two could be convinced to stroll ahead of them. But that was too many ifs. He would have to arrange an excursion.

  “I was wondering if I might prevail upon you to help me plan some sort of diversion for my sister.”

  “Your sister? Has she come for the Season? I don’t believe we’ve yet been introduced, which is rather strange.”

  “No, she’s still a bit young, despite what she might think, to be making her debut. Not until next year at the earliest. But she has convinced me to allow her to come for a visit, and I will need to escort her to a few places. I thought you and your sisters might be good ones for her to meet and help her get a little more acquainted with how to go on, so she’ll be ready for next year.”

  Vicky looked at him with a slight frown, briefly, before a wide smile split her face.

  “That sounds like a delightful plan, both for her and for us.”

  “So, you’ll help me?”

  “I’d be delighted. As would my sisters, I’m sure.”

  Now her mischievous expression caused James a twinge of trepidation, which he chose to ignore.

  “I must admit, though, that I’m not altogether certain you have told me the complete truth just now.”

  James hoped he was displaying a perfectly innocent expression, or no expression at all, as he raised one eyebrow at her. He couldn’t help the haughty tone of his voice as he asked, “What would make you consider that I might be untruthful with you?”

  “Well, I still don’t know why you’re asking me rather than Bel, for one thing.”

  James lifted one shoulder in what he hoped appeared an offhanded shrug. “The thing is, my sister is young, closer to you in age and circumstance, so I thought you would be an appropriate friend for me to introduce to her.” He paused for a moment. “Of course, if I’ve presumed and you have no wish to be so imposed upon, I’ll understand perfectly.”

  It was exactly the right thing to say to the young lady. As her sister had said, Vigilia was a true middle child with all the people-pleasing impulses that came with it. She quickly launched into speech.

  “No, no, not at all, Your Grace. I’m honoured that you would think I’d be a good friend for your sister, and I will look forward to making her acquaintance. There are any manner of things we could do together. Stroll in the park, drive out of town
a bit for a picnic, she could join us for our dance lessons, we could paint together, or go to the lending library.”

  James thought his eyes might be glazing over from the thought of all those things and was ready to kick himself for the suggestion, except he hadn’t been lying when he said his sister was coming, and she would probably enjoy all those things.

  “Wonderful. Then would it be all right if I called round with her after she arrives, and we can work out the details?”

  “That would probably be best. That way I will have had time to discuss it with my sisters. They’ll probably have even better ideas than I do. And too, we can find out what your sister wishes to do.”

  “I’m quite sure she will be in raptures over each of your ideas. I might have to beg you not to present too many options, as she’ll be sure to pick them all.”

  Vicky laughed but then demurred. “Oh no, she won’t wish to spend her entire visit with us. She’ll surely prefer her big brother’s company.”

  James had his doubts but didn’t bother arguing. He would have to be satisfied with what he had accomplished that day. He would have far preferred to have spoken with Rosabel and demanded to know what she knew, but that would cause a bigger scandal than even he could weather. This way, he hadn’t even spoken with her. Any gossip would be kept to a minimum. But that also meant that it would be several more days before he would have an opportunity to speak with her, unless he managed to partner her in a waltz at another ball. That might be his best opportunity. It would afford them very little time, but since she was so skilled at masking her reactions, it might prove to be the most privacy he could manage with her.

  “I ought not to monopolize all of your visiting time, and I’m fairly certain I’ve exceeded the polite allotment for my own stay, so I shall bid you adieu. Perhaps I might have the privilege of partnering you in one of the dances this evening? Where are you promised?” It was the smoothest he could manage. Thankfully, the innocent young girl didn’t seem to notice that he was prying.