Read When a Duke Says I Do Online
Authors: Jane Goodger
Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #General, #Historical
When a Duke Says I Do (10 page)
She gave him a tremulous, watery smile. “See you tomorrow night, then?”
“Until tomorrow.”
Chapter 10
Monsieur Desmarais was a man of great pride, which was why it was so difficult to rely more and more on Alexander with each passing day. He was also a man of compassion, who worried that one day he would no longer be able to paint, leaving his fostered son with no way to make a living.
For years now, ever since it became clear that Alexander was fast becoming a master, guilt had gnawed at the Frenchman. The young man was a prodigy and deserved a far better education than he was able to give him. He should be in Paris displaying his work at the Salon; his work was that good. An artist such as Alexander was wasting his talent on these bourgeois English, who didn’t know a master painting when they saw it.
And, of course, he himself was a fraud, claiming credit for work he hadn’t done. It had started with Alexander helping him to paint when his hands grew too painful to hold a brush. Then, Alexander began to paint entire sections of the murals. Now, Desmarais was nothing more than the assistant, the companion of one of the greatest painters he had ever had the privilege to know. And no one even knew.
It gave Desmarais no pleasure to propagate this deception. But he was a pragmatic man who knew his livelihood and his reputation rested on the broad shoulders of the man he’d thought of as son for years. He was still vain enough to go to a ball and bask in the accolades thrown at him, false though they were. He still needed to be admired, needed his patrons. He knew he was becoming a pathetic parody of himself, knew it but wouldn’t change it.
“I don’t know how much longer I can continue this ruse,” Desmarais said the night of the ball as Alexander expertly tied his formal necktie. Alexander simply shook his head. His face was uncommonly expressive and Desmarais over the years had developed a rather uncanny way of understanding the most subtle changes in his eyes, the set of his mouth, the position of his jaw. “Don’t worry, mon fils, I can continue a few more years. And the dancing with the pretty ladies? As long as I am en vogue, I will not say no.”
Desmarais had rejected both Lord Huntington’s generous offer of joining his carriage and the offer of a driver. Desmarais was a prideful man, but he also knew himself rather well. He very rarely remained sober, and when he was drunk, it was not uncommon for him to say something unfortunate. Alexander would drive him to the ball, would watch over him, would remove him when he became dangerous to himself.
“You have not been yourself lately, mon fils. Are you feeling well?”
Alexander smiled at his friend and nodded. But no, he was not feeling well. These past few nights his visits to the ballroom had been brief and kept purposefully impersonal. He knew he was being cruel, was hurting Elsie with his indifference, but he was also hurting himself. And tonight he would be forced to watch his beloved in the arms of other men, enjoying a world that he could never be part of. Even if things were different, the thought of entering a ballroom full of people was enough to make him ill. It was better, he told himself, that he remained apart, that he continue to live the quiet life he’d been living. The alternative, while intoxicatingly tempting, was impossible.
As the two men climbed aboard the smart little phaeton, Desmarais nodded toward the main house where a small party was climbing aboard the carriage. Alexander caught a glimpse of Elsie, enough to see she looked far more elegant and far more beautiful than he’d ever seen her before.
Lord and Lady Browning’s estate lay in Sutton in Ashfield, less than an hour’s drive from Mansfield Hall, on a well-traveled road that skirted Kings Mill reservoir where King Henry II was said to have gotten lost for a time during a hunting trip. Elsie didn’t know if the story were true, for it was the stuff of fairy tales, but it was said King Henry got separated from his hunting party and stumbled upon a home, requesting food and lodging without divulging his identity. The kind couple fed the king, let him share a room with their son, finding out only the next day who their guest was. The king knighted the mill owner, gave the owner’s daughter to one of his lords in marriage, and promised the young son marriage to a court lady.
She let her mind wander, giving in to fanciful thoughts of Queen Victoria elevating Alexander to some high rank that would make him a suitable husband for her. It was unusual for Elsie to daydream for she was ever realistic about what life would bring. At least she had been until Alexander. She lived, after all, in a world where beloved sisters died and mothers too. There could be no fairy tale for her. If she were honest with herself, many a young girl in her position would see her engagement to a future duke as fairy tale enough.
She realized even if the queen elevated Alexander, Elsie would still be bound to marry Lord Hathwaite. Such depressing thoughts could not be lifted even by the spectacular sunset over the serene waters of Kings Mill.
She was feeling out of sorts, restless, and extremely unhappy, though she did her best to hide her feelings. She was angry with herself for that insane nighttime walk. What had she been thinking, that she could share another kiss with Alexander and be unaffected by it? She knew, she knew, she knew and yet she’d done it because she was impetuous and just a little bit in love.
She’d ruined everything with that foolish bit of flirtation. It had started out so innocently, so delightfully, until she felt the full effect of his searing kiss. They hadn’t even touched, and yet she’d known she would never feel that way with another man. Would she? Would she melt when Lord Hathwaite kissed her? Would her body burn, would she feel as if she wanted him to touch her in places that no one had touched? Would she yearn for things she didn’t even truly understand yet?
Alexander had come to the ballroom each night since that ill-fated kiss. And yet, the man she knew, who made her heart so full it felt as if it might burst, was gone. Certainly, she could not share with her aunt that her heart was breaking because the man she was quite certain she loved had turned into a man she no longer recognized. Each night, Elsie told herself she would no longer subject herself to Alexander’s frosty demeanor, and every night she walked into the ballroom, her heart singing at the sight of him. She’d even embarrassed herself by pleading with him to tell her why he was being so cold, but he’d pretended ignorance, making her feel foolish. Was this the same man she’d laughed with at the piano, the same who had kissed her so passionately beneath the mistletoe? He was pushing her away and he was right to do so, but still, it hurt so much.
As the carriage approached the rather impressive estate, the western sky held only a hint of daylight and the grand manor house was well-lit, showing off a long queue of fine carriages and coaches in front of the grand entry hall.
“I fear my dress will be quite wrinkled,” Elsie said, pulling at the light sea-green silk. Beneath her skirt and petticoats, fabric clung wetly and uncomfortably to her legs. The two women had long ago mastered the notion of sitting wearing the hoops required for the bell-shaped silhouette fashion required, but such a style meant inevitable wrinkles along the back.
“Nonsense. It’s as lovely as when you put it on,” Aunt Diane said, waving a fan in front of her face. It was uncomfortably warm in the carriage, even with the windows open, and Aunt Diane was feeling a tad irritable. “I do hope they have ices,” she said, fluttering the fan with even more vigor.
Elsie peeked out the window, her eyes widening at the queue of carriages, including some with large crests upon the doors. This was, after all, Nottinghamshire, and no doubt a party such as this would attract the area’s highest ranks. Her stomach sank. “Is the duke expected here tonight?” Elsie asked, knowing she needn’t explain which duke.
“I should expect so. I know Lord Browning is a special friend of His Grace. No doubt Lord Hathwaite will also be in attendance.”
“How lovely,” Elsie said unconvincingly.
Lord Huntington, whom Elsie had thought to be dozing in the corner, lifted his head. “Elsie,” he said, with enough censor in his tone to make her feel slightly ashamed of her behavior.
“Why, you’d think you would welcome the chance to spend more time with the man you plan to marry,” Aunt Diane said, her voice full of reproach. As an unmarried woman, she simply could not understand Elsie’s reticence at marrying the heir to a dukedom. While the older woman was usually very understanding of Elsie’s moods, her niece’s behavior this night seemed to be trying her patience.
“I think this heat is simply spoiling my mood,” Elsie said, knowing that her aunt would commiserate with her on that point.
“It is ungodly, is it not? How much longer is the line?”
Elsie surreptitiously looked out her window, trying not to appear gauche by craning her neck out like some country bumpkin. “Seven more,” she grumbled.
“My goodness, half of Nottinghamshire must be here.”
An uneasy feeling gripped Elsie, who prayed her future father-in-law was not among the guests. There was something about him that frightened her, although the duke had never been anything but polite and charming. She thought, perhaps, it was because even when the duke smiled, his eyes were blank, emotionless, as if he were schooling his face to make the proper expression, but felt nothing inside.
The duchess, who rarely attended such events, always stood meekly by her husband’s side. She was a lovely woman, with a still-youthful appearance, but she somehow looked cowed standing by her imposing husband, as if in a perpetual flinch.
“I wonder if the duchess has accompanied His Grace,” Aunt Diane said, as if reading Elsie’s thoughts. “I do hope the duke hasn’t subjected her to such a crowd. Poor woman.”
Elsie looked to her aunt in surprise. “Why do you say that?”
“We were debutantes together and she was painfully shy,” Aunt Diane said. “She had few friends, but the sweetest disposition. Some of the girls thought she was a terrible snob, but I knew her better than most. Kingston is the very last man I would have paired her with. But I doubt she had any choice in the matter. It was an arranged marriage.”
“Not all arranged marriages are tragedies,” her father said, sounding put out by the entire conversation.
“I was not referring to Elizabeth, who as far as I can tell, will be the luckiest girl in attendance here,” Aunt Diane said, looking pointedly at Elsie.
“I think Lord Hathwaite is more like his mother than his father,” Elsie said. “For that, I am grateful.”
“Yours and hers are entirely different situations,” her aunt said, putting on a tone she used for lecturing on Proper Behavior. “You see, Kingston arranged the marriage himself. He picked her because he thought her pretty and for no other reason. An ornament to display on his sleeve.”
“How dreadful.”
Lord Huntington let out an impatient sigh, putting an end to their gossip.
When their carriage reached the grand entrance of Hartley Hall, Elsie welcomed the cool air that touched her face and shoulders the moment the footman opened the door. Getting out of a carriage with full hoops was not a task for the faint-hearted, but Elsie managed well enough, exposing only a bit of ankle on her descent.
Once inside the grand hall, Elsie looked around, dreading that she’d see the duke. Indeed, they’d only been in the home a few moments before she spotted Lord Hathwaite chatting with some friends. Elsie tried not to catch his eye, but when he did look up, she smiled a greeting, feeling rather ashamed when he gave her a smile back.
Lord Hathwaite made his way to them and gave the ladies a bow. “You look a bit fearful,” he said rather charmingly, making Elsie laugh.
“I must confess I was wondering if His Grace is in attendance.”
Lord Hathwaite gave her the most genuine smile she’d ever seen cross his features. “He changed his plans at the last moment.That is why you see me in such a buoyant mood, I daresay.”
Next to her, Aunt Diane fluttered her fan so vigorously that Lord Hathwaite blinked against the gust.
“The heat, it is quite stifling,” Elsie said, giving her aunt an exasperated look as she continued to fan herself.
“Yes,” Lord Hathwaite agreed. “We shall have to take a turn ’round the garden later. It’s rather nicely lit with hundreds of Japanese lanterns.”
“I should like that,” Elsie said.
“Have you retrieved your dance card as yet, Miss Elizabeth?”
“No, we were waiting for the line to lessen.”
“Make certain you pencil me in for at least two,” he said, with a charming smile. Then he winked. “If we really want to set tongues wagging, make it three. Waltzes, if you please. I’m afraid it is too warm for a schottische or redowa.”
Elsie smiled, surprised and slightly perplexed that he seemed to be flirting with her. “Oh, I agree. Three waltzes then. How very daring of you, Lord Hathwaite.”
“I am feeling daring this evening.” He gave her a cheeky smile, a small bow and went back to his friends, leaving Elsie slightly mystified by his mood.
“He seems rather happy this evening,” Aunt Diane remarked.
“Certainly a nice change from the sulking man he usually is,” Elsie said, missing the chastising look her aunt gave her.
The two women waited in line for their dance cards, Aunt Diane keeping up the steady motion of her fan. “Aunt, I do believe the energy required to keep that fan going at such a pace is only serving to make you hotter,” Elsie said, laughing.
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