Lady Adventuress 01 - His Wayward Duchess Read online

  “You seem somewhat green about the gills, my dear Holly.”

  Holly’s eyes flew to hers in surprise and she flushed a little at having been caught out. “I was only thinking of this ball. It seems a very momentous occasion.”

  Lady Louisa waved a dismissive hand. “It’s important, and Emily Castlereagh never fails to host the most marvellous gatherings – but it is nothing to fret about, and you are fretting. I can tell. It’s rather affecting my coffee, so I do wish you wouldn’t.”

  “You pardon!” Holly laughed. “I feel like nothing so much as a fish out of water.”

  “I can’t imagine why – did not Lord Bettenhall compare you to a swan in his new composition?”

  Holly’s flush grew warmer still. “I wish he hadn’t.”

  “Oh, pish! It will do that duke of yours good to hear a verse or two in your honour.”

  Her duke… Holly wondered if Strathavon would be at the ball. As far as she knew, he had not been seen about town, though he had returned. Since hearing word of his arrival back in London, she had been living on the edge of a knife, wandering at his mysterious silence, expecting him to come barging into Lady Louisa’s parlour to demand an explanation of his renegade wife.

  A part of her longed to run into him on the street or at some party – she had spent a great deal of time wondering what he would say and how he would look. And what would her own response be? Would she dismiss him, raising her chin proudly and sweeping past, or would she fall into his arms, melt into his embrace like the last snow of spring?

  She imagined what it would be like, to appear at the ball in her finest gown, only to turn around and find him standing beside her, his face painted with love and desire.

  Would he kiss her right there, or scandalise the ton even more by brazenly sweeping his own wife on to the dance floor? Her heart constricted with longing at this wistful fantasy.

  Lady Louisa was unaware of Holly’s inner struggle. “You ought to wear your new leather shoes, I think. The ones embroidered with tiny bluebells – they will go splendidly with your gown…” mused Holly’s instructress.

  When the night of the ball was finally upon her, the duke had failed to show any sign of being aware of her existence at all. No one barged into the parlour or leapt into her carriage. Holly’s nerves were at absolute breaking point.

  An hour before she was due to begin her toilette, Holly requested a cup of weak black tea with arrack and no lemon, in an effort to settle her nerves. It was the very same brew that her mama had always ordered for her when she’d been ill as a child.

  Her stomach was positively fluttering as she imagined making her entrance in front of so many people.

  She sat curled up on a soft sofa in the parlour, cradling the cup and gazing out of the window. Her governess would have been appalled at such an unladylike display, she thought wryly.

  Lady Louisa watched her, eyes filled with unmistakable amusement.

  “Forgive me, my dear,” she said, noticing Holly’s startled glance. “I own I completely forgot what it is to first embark on to society. It was so many years ago now that I was in a situation similar to your own. You know, I have only taught you how to proceed – it is your liveliness and charm that are the real reason you will see success. And those are entirely your own.”

  It was a very kind thing to say, and Holly gave her friend a grateful smile. She had assumed that Lady Louisa had always been the elegant, confident creature she was today, and was therefore greatly taken aback at this revelation.

  “It is only that they now expect me to be something remarkable, and I doubt I could live up to that. I shouldn’t like it above half if they believed me to possess a commonplace mind…” Holly said, looking alarmed.

  “And so you shouldn’t – but that is impossible, I assure you. You must stand tall and hold your head up high. You are no longer a demure debutante. You shall have your victory – but only if you go victoriously towards it. One should never balk at pursuing their desires. Courage is paramount in the wife of the premier peer of the realm.”

  “Even if the premier peer is nowhere to be seen?”

  “That does not matter. Let the silly boy sulk if he must – he will turn up before long, I promise you. Trust me on that head. And who knows what valuable friends you may make tonight!”

  And there certainly were friends to be made, even despite her initial distraction. Before the night was half-gone, Holly was already exhausted from hoping to catch sight of the duke. She longed to be home and in bed despite the wonderful evening going on around her. In an effort to keep up some vestige of cheerfulness, she decided to make a pilgrimage to the refreshments table.

  She hoped for some kind of distraction and was extremely pleased when he happened her way at last, demonstrating a most impeccable sense of timing.

  Sir John Compton was a slight, handsome man with thoughtful blue eyes, and a reserved manner. Lost in his admiration of a young lady in pink, he accidentally stepped on the train of Holly’s silk gown. Realising his faux pas, he flushed instantly, treating Holly to a whole litany of apologies.

  “Do stop, I beg you,” Holly laughed, unable to remain serious in the face of such unassailable good breeding. “I remain unharmed, but I can’t promise that I shan’t get the vapours if you continue apologise much longer.”

  The gentleman stopped short, surprised by such a direct manner and the amused brown eyes that were peering at him with a great deal of good humour.

  “Ah,” he said, unsure how he ought to continue, when he had not even been introduced to the young lady whose gown he had treated to poorly.

  Holly noticed his chagrin and smiled encouragingly. “Perhaps in light of our unusual meeting, we may exchange names sans hostess – I am almost certain that under the circumstances it would be entirely forgivable.”

  The gentleman nodded uncertainly and gave his name with a perfectly executed bow.

  “I am the Duchess of Strathavon,” Holly said, in an off-handed tone which seemed to confuse Sir John.

  “I beg your pardon. I should have known.”

  “How should you?” asked Holly, shaking her head. “I am only just come to town, and I am but newly wed.”

  “Then I must give my felicitations,” her new acquaintance said.

  “As is only right and proper,” intoned the duchess gravely before smiling again. “Now that we have passed the formalities, I think we had better become friends right away. Then you may tell me about the young lady you’ve been admiring with such fervour.”

  This seemed to make the gentleman bashful. He flailed for a response. “You are much mistaken, Lady Strathavon.”

  “I think I am right on the mark. I will also venture to deduce from your demeanour that I have unsettled you. And that is largely because you have yet to make your intentions known to the lady in question. I can tell, you see, because I have three brothers myself, and I have grown very good at recognising the signs over the years. A sister’s intuition, if you will.”

  The gentleman smiled despite himself at this earnest explanation.

  “Ah. I have never had a sister, and so I must take your word for it, but I own you are correct. She is the niece of Lady Louisa Somerville, you know, and the daughter of the Earl of Chenefelt. I’m afraid Miss Verity Dacre is greatly above my touch.”

  “Is she? I cannot imagine why you’d think that. Most likely, it is only that you have failed to make yourself known to her. And how should you blame her then for not returning your regard, when she does not know you?” Holly glanced over at the young woman.

  “I had not thought of it,” came the uncertain reply.

  “Of course not. The best gentlemen never do. But fear not. I have decided I shall help you.” Holly had always been better at managing the romances of others, after all.

  “By gad! Will you indeed?” Sir John had never met so curious a female and while he supposed he ought to have been offended by her odd manner, he found himself swept up in her wake, somewha
t dazed and even a little hopeful. There was something about Holly that made Sir John want to know what she might do next.

  “Oh, yes, I am very good at helping gentlemen out of such tangles. My brothers are often in some fix or another. I am determined to help you out of yours.”

  Holly found that she liked Sir John very much. There was something in his manner that reminded her acutely of her third brother, Henry, and that made her feel instantly protective of him.

  “Forgive me, Lady Strathavon, but I must venture to point out that you have no obligation to get involved in any such thing.”

  “No?” asked Holly. “Very well then, we will call it a charitable impulse on my part.”

  “Then you must have a weakness for hopeless cases,” said the baronet with a pleasant smile.

  “You must not talk complete flummery, Sir John,” Holly berated. “Never in all my life have I heard such nonsense and it is not to be borne. I am unsurprised that you should have got nowhere in wooing Miss Dacre, if that is how you talk. Now, I think the first thing you need to do is join the row, for I see your Miss Dacre means to dance.”

  “But she already has a partner – Mr Jutland. He is an excellent dancer.”

  “So she does. But only for this set. You must wait it out and request the next. The country dance will be better fun anyway. And don’t fret about this Mr Jutland.”

  Sir John gave Holly a rather dreary little smile and a defeated sigh. “It is no good. Miss Dacre wishes to marry a man of fortune, to know for certain that he is not courting hers. I haven’t got a fortune to my name, and so I’ve no way to convince the lady that I haven’t any need of her blunt.”

  Holly looked at him in astonishment. “Then you must find one! You are a clever, capable man, Sir John, and I know that we will think of something that can be done. Faith!”

  The music began and Holly found herself enchanted by the cheerful strains.

  While the dances tripped the light fantastic toe, accompanied by the little orchestra engaged for the occasion, the Duchess of Strathavon observed Miss Verity Dacre.

  It felt good to be on familiar ground even if she was likely being roguish and fast. There was a good chance life was about to get a lot more interesting.

  When the two sets were over and the music had faded, Holly urged Sir John to approach the lady for the next set, and kept a shrewd eye on them both. Left to his own devices, Sir John was truly hopeless – faultlessly polite, and impossibly grave even during a light country dance.

  Miss Verity Dacre seemed more taken with a handsome blond gentleman in a blue coat who had brought her a glass of punch after her set. He looked to Holly like a storybook hero come to life.

  Humming softly along with the next dance, Holly came to the conclusion that nothing could be done to advance Sir John’s cause until the man learned to abandon his stony gravitas.

  She made mental notes on how she would go about helping her new acquaintance – but first, she would need to meet Miss Dacre.

  Filled with a bright new energy, Holly felt excited about her new role. She could finally be of some use, and help two people find love: that most rare of earthly joys. The feeling was liberating, not because she was embracing a part or playing make-believe: just the opposite, in fact. This was something she was good at.

  She felt more herself than she had in a long time. More than that, even! She was becoming someone she had always wanted to be but had never had much of an opportunity to become. And she would use this new power to help her new friend. Being a duchess was not so very difficult after all.

  Surely, having navigated the complex and treacherous politics of growing up in as chaotic a family as hers, where alliances could shift at the drop of a hat, she ought to find London society laughably easy by comparison.

  Holly’s thoughts were interrupted when Lady Castlereagh approached, flanked by a tall smartly dressed man, who had requested an introduction out of an urge to compliment her gown. Such a declaration would have been unforgivably vulgar on any personage other than the one who stood before her, and Holly was momentarily speechless.

  She was delighted to discover that he was none other than the celebrated Mr Brummell, easily the most fashionable man in town. The society journals claimed that he, too, had re-invented himself into this splendid persona upon arriving in London, and the new duchess felt a great kinship with the man.

  “Now, I do believe I would like to request the next set, Lady Strathavon,” Mr Brummell said with a most beautiful bow. “It would be a shame not to show off the product of your seamstress’s genius.”

  Holly returned his smile with one of her own mischievous grins “I do believe that you are right, Mr Brummell.”

  The gentleman proved a most excellent dancer and an extremely witty conversationalist, and Holly immensely enjoyed the two dances. She was sorry when the music came to an end. Dinner was announced and a stately line of guests formed to proceed into the adjoining room.

  The Earl of Avonbury promptly turned up at Holly’s elbow to escort her into the meal and exchanged amiable greetings with Mr Brummell.

  “I do believe we are to be seated together, my dear Lady Strathavon,” the earl said, answering Holly’s unasked question. “And it has been such a night that I’ve not yet had an opportunity to speak with you.”

  It was a well-known fact that, along with being the duke’s cousin, Avonbury was his boon companion.

  “Speak to me? What about, pray? I do believe you are spying on me for my husband, Lord Avonbury,” Holly said, wryly raising an eyebrow at him.

  Avonbury endeavoured to look scandalised, and failed spectacularly. “Mercy, my dear! His Grace would never ask such a thing – why the very thought… You wound my soul – it is only fortunate that your beauty is enough to set it back to rights.”

  “You are entirely shameless, Lord Avonbury. It might be that Strathavon would not ask it of you, but I doubt such a technicality would stop you from spying on me anyway.”

  “I have only the most earnest interest in your happiness, my dear. And my cousin’s, of course, though he can be quite the cad. You did look very fetching dancing with Mr Brummell, I may add. Now, I do believe that, having levelled me such a dire insult, you must do penance and listen to me tell school stories about Strathavon all through dinner.”

  Holly laughed at that. “Penance, is it? Oh, very well – I see what you are playing at. Do your worst, then.”

  “Your servant, Madam.”

  Avonbury was a surprisingly good storyteller, and Holly was engrossed in listening to his accounts of boyhood mischief. It was strange to see Strathavon from such a fresh perspective and it left Holly a little breathless.

  Afterwards, she could hardly recall what had been served at table!

  If even half the tales were to be believed, they had blazed a trail through Eton together, nearly got expelled from Cambridge and then caused havoc all over Europe on their Tour.

  “It really was a wonder they’d put up with us as long as they had, but there is nothing like the intellectual challenge of university life. I daresay we did some of our very best work back then,” the earl said a little wistfully.

  Holly supposed he was not blind to Strathavon’s grim new demeanour, and she wondered idly what it would take to shatter her duke’s melancholy for good. Holly was fascinated by this younger Strathavon, who was personable, roguish and fun. It seemed he had delighted in rash misadventures, unseemly behaviour and sheer chaos.

  It was difficult to reconcile this man with the one who locked himself up to do accounts.

  For his part, Avonbury carefully watched the duchess’s expression. He had been unsure of her, and Strathavon would have been angry at this liberty, but he had to know what the girl was about.

  He’d not missed the regret in her eyes at his wistful words, nor the childlike, impressionable raptness with which she had listened to his tales. Whether she was really the green debutante or the fashionable duchess, however, one thing was unmistak
able. There was no denying the love written across her face whenever his cousin’s name was mentioned.

  Avonbury wondered how he might go about arranging a reunion, for a reunion there had to be – especially since Strathavon seemed to have taken to brooding the days away in his damned study.

  “And most famously, there was the race to Brighton, one year, during the Long Vacation. We met at a post house with every intention of staying just long enough to lay the dust in our throats – only to get completely foxed. Then, we raced. The next morning was a drudge and a half. Strathavon let me win, I suspect – the devil. Said that it was a cost he was willing to pay to retain his dignity. I can assure you, my dear, that victory was anything but sweet by the time I arrived in Brighton. I swear that ale-draper had grown tired of all the races and decided to teach us a lesson. Now, would you care for more duck? It’s really very good.”

  “Yes, thank you.” She realised that she’d barely glanced at her plate the whole time, yet she had eaten everything on it.

  As Holly’s companion served her with more of the plum duck, carefully engineered by Lady Castlereagh’s incomparable cook, she mused on what she had been told.

  She thought that, had she met Strathavon then, before he had lost his family and become a duke, their marriage would have been entirely different.

  She found herself falling even more in love with the man, both for who he had been and for the great sorrow he had had to endure. Undeniably, it was his brother’s death that had changed him so much.

  Avonbury found Holly to be the very best kind of audience – she asked the questions he wanted asked and laughed in all the right places, and she did not once look even a little weary of his narrative.

  “I wonder,” she mused quietly, “if there is any trace of your old friend left in the present duke.”

  For a moment, she was horrified at having said such a thing aloud, but Avonbury inclined his head sadly, considering her words.