Lady Adventuress 01 - His Wayward Duchess Page 18

  For the most part, Lady Charlotte seemed disinclined to speak to anyone but Sir John, which made it very easy for Holly to pay her no mind at all.

  They had done several peaceful rounds of the lake and were drifting pleasantly when Holly turned to Sir John with her most fetching smile.

  “I beg that you let me try my hand at rowing,” she said. “I used to be very good at it on the lake at home.”

  Sir John looked to Avonbury uncertainly. “Holly, I am not certain –”

  “Pray, do not worry. You can always take over if I should row us the wrong way. Do be obliging.”

  “Very well,” said the gentleman, a touch reluctantly. “Though I protest it might not be entirely fitting.

  “Fitting!” echoed Lady Charlotte, sounding appalled. “It is no such thing. Why, don’t you dare take the oars, Lady Strathavon. You will sink us all!”

  “I can’t imagine how you mean for me to do that,” Holly twinkled at her, her voice perfectly sweet. “Sinking has nothing at all to do with rowing unless one is rowing into cliffs, and there are none here. Now, hand me the oars, Sir John.”

  She handed her parasol to Verity, looking expectant and the baronet handed over the oars doubtfully.

  There was a splash of water as Holly swirled the oars in the lake.

  “These are somewhat lighter than I expected they would be.”

  Avonbury chuckled at her and shook his head. “My dear Holly, you are a veritable romp! Shall we row on three, then? Let’s see how quickly we can reach the middle of the lake!”

  “Oh, do give them back, Lady Strathavon,” Lady Charlotte was getting visibly angrier. “You have had your jest and I daresay you’ve successfully displayed your downright want of address. No further exhibition is necessary.”

  “Jest? I haven’t had any jest at all!” exclaimed Holly. “Very well, Avonbury, on three then. One, two, three!”

  The two pairs of oars lifted out of the water: there was a splash, and water flew.

  Verity’s squeal of surprise and mirth was followed by a shriek as some of the water landed on Lady Charlotte’s straw bonnet.

  “Lady Strathavon, that is the outside of enough!” exclaimed that woman in a skirling voice, shooting to her feet, face flushed. “You have ruined my bonnet beyond repair.”

  The boat rocked precariously, and Lady Charlotte gasped, fighting to keep her feet.

  “I’ve done no such thing,” Holly said, looking up at her with great disinterest. “But I would advise you to sit back down. The boats can be quite unsteady.”

  “How dare you –” So great was Lady Charlotte’s outrage at this perceived impertinence that she shifted unsteadily, rocking the vessel sharply to the left once more.

  Losing her balance, the lady floundered a second, before plunging into the cold green-brown water.

  “Whoa!” exclaimed Sir John, automatically gripping the sides in an attempt to steady the vessel.

  “Lady Charlotte! By Jove!” exclaimed Sir John, to a chorus of gasps and exclamations from the other boats. All eyes were riveted on the spectacle being presently enacted. In the water, Lady Charlotte was splashing and calling for help.

  “Come, Avonbury, let us move the boat closer. Sir John, do try to grip her hands – she might not be able to swim.” said Holly. “Oh dear. What an awful way to take the waters.”

  As Sir John pulled the lady out of the lake, dripping and gasping, Holly and Avonbury rowed for shore, calling out replies to enquiries after Lady Charlotte’s wellbeing.

  Holly noticed that Avonbury was good enough to give the woman his coat, though it did little to improve her sopping appearance, or her temper. The ruined feather dripped morosely into the boat.

  “It is all your fault,” accused Lady Charlotte, glaring at Holly, once she was warmly ensconced in the coat, lake water gathering in a puddle around her feet. “I have never been so mortified in my life!”

  “My fault? I fail to see how. I told you that you had better sit down, did I not? I think you are overwrought,” Holly replied calmly. “Sir John did very well, pulling you out as quickly as he had done. His coat is ruined now, I daresay.”

  “’Tis nothing,” the gentleman said politely. “I am only relived that you are safely back on board, Lady Charlotte.”

  “Well! Thank you, Sir John. You are undeniably a gentleman,” sniffed the lady, and refused to engage in further conversation until they were safely back on shore. Once they had landed on the dock, Lady Charlotte’s friends instantly rushed to her side to assure themselves of her continued wellbeing. Lady Charlotte appeared to be in a passion over her ruined bonnet and impromptu swim.

  Verity lingered at the landing, wringing her hands with concern, her eyes on the baronet. As soon as he managed to excuse himself from Lady Charlotte, Verity hurried over.

  “Sir John, are you alright? You were so quick to rescue Lady Charlotte…” Holly didn’t hear the rest of the conversation as they moved out of earshot, but it seemed very promising.

  Disembarking the boat with Avonbury’s help, Holly was surprised to find her husband already at her side, looking greatly disapproving.

  He moved her with the merest suggestion of a touch at her elbow, leading her away from the others. “A word, my dear.”

  Holly rather thought it would be several words, and all of them infuriating.

  “It was awfully good of Sir John to fish her out, don’t you think?” She remarked, refolding her shawl around her shoulders. “Everyone seemed entirely at a loss. Especially in the other boats – but I think Verity was impressed by his quick thinking. I saw her expression when they were fishing out Lady Charlotte.”

  “I expect,” said the duke, “that this is all your doing? What in the blue blazers were you about? I think I am beginning to get a sense for your unique brand of mischief, Holly.”

  “Then you will know that I had nothing to do with this particular fix,” Holly replied crisply. “I merely tried my hand at rowing – it is entirely Lady Charlotte’s business if she decided to dive for shore. It was a bit much, actually,” Holly said. “But that hardly matters.”

  “And what were you doing, trying your hand at the oars?” His Grace asked silkily. “Are you considering running away and joining His Majesty’s Navy?”

  “Why, I was rowing. And no – I think the navy wouldn’t be at all to my taste. Oh dear – I expect she will give me the cut direct now. A shame, but I think the beau monde will be understanding.” Strathavon could not help but notice that his duchess did not look even remotely apologetic.

  “Do you want to know what I think?”

  “I expect you’ll tell me regardless.”

  “I think you are not the least bit sorry that Lady Charlotte fell in the lake. My dear girl, I have to say that I had not expected such hoydenish behaviour from you!”

  “But, Your Grace, it is not my fault that you expected me to be nicer in my ideas than I am. Besides which, I do believe she deserved it. ” Holly had an unmistakably satirical light in her eye.

  “Hmm, that does sound like your kind of logic. Well, at least we are fortunate that you were not the one to fall in the lake.”

  “Me? That wouldn’t signify – I assure you, I’m a capable swimmer.”

  “I was more worried about your emergence after such a fall. That gown you’re wearing is most… remarkable.”

  “My gown? What of it? It’s velvet. I don’t know what has you in such a frazzle,” she said casually, adjusting her lace glove.

  “Truly? Then the daring cut of your gown in the vicinity of so many debaucherous cads is merely coincidence? All those bucks dangling after you already… You are, in a word, on your way to becoming downright infamous.”

  “Well, upon my word! I had no notion that I was eligible for sartorial infamy. In any event, my dress is entirely my own affair, and I assure you I don’t care what you think of it, or any other of your fellow rakes.”

  Her eyes blazed into his defiantly. Strathavon’s hand tightened
a little on her elbow, drawing her closer.

  “Oh, I don’t credit that, my girl,” he said, his voice a dangerous growl. “I believe that you have come all this way to trifle with me. This is all a game, isn’t it? Between spending your pin money on silks and swanning about town in such deplorable dresses.”

  “You’re being odious. And I don’t credit for a moment that you find my dresses deplorable,” countered Her Grace, deliberately throwing his words back at him. Her eyes lit up with a minxish sparkle.

  Holly’s cheerful mood seemed entirely unaffected by the duke’s apparent displeasure.

  “You are more trouble than a debutante on her first outing!”

  “That is very likely,” Holly agreed. “But I have made up my mind that today shall be a happy day. I am happy. Very happy. And you are not to ruin it, my lord Strathavon.” Then she reached out and brushed aside a tiny leaf that must have blown on to the sleeve of his coat.

  The intimacy and ease of the gesture left the duke short of breath, though it seemed that Holly did not notice at all.

  Chapter 10

  Holly half-expected that Strathavon would sulk over the boating episode, or treat her to one of his disapproving frowns, but the duke made no more mention of it. Nor did he say a single cutting thing about the Phaeton that was delivered to the stables directly after breakfast the next day.

  Holly went out to admire the vehicle, which looked wonderfully daring – she wanted nothing more than to test it out in the park, but the rain that had arrived late the previous night seemed determined to persist for the rest of the day. It made driving out quite impossible.

  This was a shame because Holly had hoped for some fresh air before she was obliged to begin interviewing potential lady’s maids that evening.

  “Well,” said Strathavon wryly, having looked over the vehicle quietly. “I have to admit that your taste in carriages is sound. Though it seems you’ll have to wait for the weather to dry up before shocking the dowagers. Will you play piquet instead?”

  They went back into the house and spent a leisurely morning playing at cards. Holly was surprised to see the duke so sanguine and relaxed. It was as though a steady new intimacy had crept over them without either of them having noticed it. It was a thing impossible to describe, but just as impossible to ignore.

  In the middle of their third game, Holly looked up at Strathavon with a challenging smile.

  “I think we need to put up stakes. It will make the game much more interesting, don’t you think?”

  The duke chuckled. “Have you run through your pin money already?”

  “Not at all. And I don’t want money.”

  “Then what do you want?”

  For a moment, their eyes met, and Holly felt her breath catch somewhere in her throat just as her heart began to race in her chest.

  She was caught up in his blue gaze, and might have stayed that way forever, if a flower girl extolling her roses outside the window had not intruded into the reverie, breaking the spell.

  The duke looked amused at Holly’s flustered voice.

  “A good question… I should like an outing. To the British Museum. I have not been in years and years, and I would dearly like to go. And in my turn, if I should lose, I will offer to take you up beside me on my new Phaeton – by which you have failed to be suitably impressed, I might add.”

  Strathavon was pleasantly surprised. The British Museum! It was a most unexpected request. It took him a moment to register the second half of her proposal. His eyes narrowed.

  “You are trying to run me up sweet, I think, which makes me wonder what you are really about.”

  Holly looked unruffled, reaching over to pick up Mittens and place the cat in her lap. Mittens stretched, lazily extending her claws into Holly’s day dress. “Not in the least. I think you’ve forgotten that I don’t much care about your opinion. Now, shall we play?”

  He didn’t fail to recognise the note of challenge in her voice.

  Sylvester nodded and picked up his cards. He still suspected she was up to something. He wondered how it was that the girl managed to find adventure wherever she went and to tumble in and out of trouble at the blink of an eye.

  *

  Holly had just secured herself a surprising and glorious triumph in the last round of piquet when a footman announced Lord Avonbury.

  “By all means, bring him in here,” said Strathavon, looking exasperated.

  The earl wasted no time in making his appearance.

  “Avonbury,” the duchess said when Strathavon’s cousin strode into the drawing room. “You’re just in time to celebrate my victory.”

  The earl laughed. “Good morning, Holly. Victory? Have you had one over on poor Strathavon again?”

  “I fear I have. I have won an outing at piquet.”

  “And almost certainly without cheating,” added the duke, eyes glimmering with amusement.

  “Now, don’t be unsporting,Your Grace. It’s no one’s fault but your own if you let your mind wander,” Holly teased.

  The earl shot a bewildered look at the cat. “My but you have become domestic around here.”

  “Rather,” said the duke sourly.

  “Oh, stop being silly. He’s very fond of Mittens, Avonbury, though I expect he won’t ever say it.”

  The duke had the audacity to snort at that.

  “Now really! You ought to be much kinder to me, Strathavon. I may be generous and drive you about the park even if you lose.”

  “Generous! You just wish to show off your new Phaeton,” Strathavon countered.

  “New Phaeton!” Avonbury exclaimed. “You did not mention you were looking for a vehicle. I should have been pleased to help you pick one. Is it any good?”

  Strathavon shrugged. “I believe Holly managed well on her own.”

  “I say, that is just splendid. You and I are of a like mind, Holly – you see, I’ve just purchased a new stallion.”

  It turned out that, upon completing the transaction, it occurred to the earl that nothing would do but to have the duke’s opinion of the animal, which was currently being seen to in the duke’s stables.

  There was nothing for it, but for all of them to proceed to the stables and inspect the stallion, though Avonbury expressed a very great curiosity in seeing the Phaeton as well.

  To Holly’s amusement, they spent a good hour in admiration of Avonbury’s new horse, and then returned to the drawing room to continue the conversation for another half hour at least.

  “I can’t help but notice that Lord Myles Wooley has been dancing attendance on your friend Miss Dacre,” Avonbury told Holly at last, having thoroughly covered the subject of horses. “I saw him at the club today, when he was on his way to pay a call on the lady. I wouldn’t normally meddle, but the man is an out-and-out cad – led my sister a pretty dance last summer. I would council you to give her a hint that she had best steer clear. His intentions, if they are not dishonourable, can only be mercenary in nature. Wooley needs to wed an heiress with a dowry of at least twenty five thousand, else he will have pockets to let.”

  “Especially if his luck at cards continues to run foul as it has been doing,” the duke added.

  With a sinking feeling, Holly remembered the way her friend had seemed hopelessly taken with the man. Firmly, she reminded herself of Sir John’s undeniable progress in that direction. His gallant behaviour towards Lady Charlotte, and the rumours of the baronet’s dangerously rakish side, which Holly artfully denied at every opportunity, had gone some way to increasing his popularity with the ladies of the ton.

  “Yes, he always did seem the worst kind of adventurer,” she said to Avonbury. “Thank you for the advice – I shall take it to heart.”

  It seemed that in the matter of Verity and Sir John, no time could be lost.

  *

  The rain did not subside the following day, nor the one after. If anything, Holly was convinced that it only got worse. It was chilly and the dreary cold seemed to permeate th
e hearts of just about everyone in London.

  The women whom Holly interviewed for the position of lady’s maid had come in bedraggled and miserable, and the company at the various evening diversions was much the same.

  It was during a dinner party at Lord Bettenhall’s that everyone seemed more morose than ever, despite the many superb entertainments and foods provided for their amusement.

  The Duke of Strathavon, seated across from Holly and to the left, next to Lord Bettenhall’s mother, was attempting to stare his duchess out of countenance. Possibly her new gown, boasting a crimson satin bodice and mock lace sleeves, was to blame. She raised her eyebrows at him with an unruffled half-smile, before returning her attention to the conversation.

  As it was a small, informal gathering, guests had taken the liberty of talking across the table.

  They were engaged in a fascinating discussion of how the gentlemen had passed such rainy days when they were children.

  “Did you really make your own fireworks, Lord Avonbury?” asked Verity interestedly, her eyes wide.

  “Yes. There were instructions in The Boy’s Own Guide. It was really fairly simple – I say, Strathavon, do you remember? It was your book we used.”

  “Indeed – we nearly set the begonia patch alight.”

  “How marvellous the sorts of things boys can get away with,” said Miss Sanford, with equal parts envy and disapproval.

  “Get away? I beg your pardon, Miss Sanford, but we were in the grounds keeper’s black books for weeks. It was most unpleasant retribution, when one wants to go hunting or swimming, or to hide from one’s tutor in the gardens.”

  “I imagine a young lady couldn’t have done that – even in the country,” said Miss Sanford. “I spent an awful lot of time cutting likenesses out of card with my sisters.”

  Lord Bettenhall turned to Holly at those words. “Lady Strathavon, you have lived most of your life in the country – won’t you tell us how it was that you passed the time there? Did you venture to make fireworks?”

  Holly blinked in surprise. Strathavon shot her an amused look, daring her to tell of the escapades which she had related to him. Holly met his gaze unwaveringly, and felt a tingle in her heart.