A Season for Love (15 page)

“
And that means . . .?” Tony
prodded.

“
With the political situation so
volatile, I spent the entire day catching up on what had happened
while I was gone. As if the situation with Boney weren’t bad
enough, there’s still a good deal of unrest here at home. I had
Sims tell her . . . ” The duke broke off, swearing colorfully.
“Basically,” he admitted sheepishly as he ran out of invective, “I
sent my bride word by the butler that I would not be home that
night. The very first night of our married life back in
London.”

“
Lord, Marcus,” Tony pronounced with
considerable feeling, “Jen must truly care for you or she’d have
handed you your head on a platter. Not a shy flower is our
Jen.”

“
You’d be surprised,” the duke returned
quietly. “I believe our Jen has far more fears and doubts than
anyone realizes.”

“
So we’re both having difficulties with
our women.” The viscount sighed.

“
Our
women?”
The Duke of Longville returned to his stance as a sharp-eyed
father. “I trust your intentions are honorable, Frayne?”

Tony drew in a deep breath. “I had not
thought I had any intentions beyond the familial,” he admitted,
“but it would seem I am moving in a direction previously considered
anathema. For, yes, I find myself drawn back to Longville House as
if pulled by an irresistible force. Willy-nilly, no matter where I
think I am going, I end up on your doorstep.”

“
Ah, poor boy,” Longville sympathized,
“I believe you have caught the disease.”

“
Disease it is,” Tony agreed glumly.
“But it may be I shall conquer it,” he added, brightening, “for
Lady Caroline is quite determined not to marry. Perhaps I shall
have my five more years of freedom before she comes to her senses
and realizes that marriage is inevitable for us all.”

A rueful chuckle escaped the Duke of
Longville. “If I did not like you, Tony, I would have the footmen
toss you out for that remark. “I warn you, Caroline deserves
better.”

“
I heartily agree,” the viscount
agreed, rising to his feet, “but then some things inspire me to
greater effort than others. And Lady Caroline is a remarkable bit
of inspiration. Do not worry, Longville,” Tony added softly, “you
must know I would never do anything to harm her.”

The duke touched a hand to his friend’s
shoulder. “My apologies, Tony. A necessary conversation, this.
Nothing more.”

Tony was almost to the door when he suddenly
turned back. “I nearly forgot.” He paused, frowning, searching for
the right words. “There were moments when I was driving the
children around—down by the Tower, by St. Paul’s, once even on Bond
Street—that I saw what I can only describe as odd looks. Yes, I
know Laurence is an object of interest to nearly everyone, but I .
. . I thought I caught a note of hostility here and there. Perhaps
it was imagination, nothing more than my feeling of responsibility
for the children, but Boney’s escape, his success in rallying his
troops, seems to have struck a spark with some of the rabble here
at home.”

“
The duke nodded, his look thoughtful.
“I must confess, my friend, I have great respect for the acumen you
usually hide so well. And you are right, there have been increasing
incidents of unrest.”

“
So you agree it’s best to keep the
children close for a while? I fear I may have been too sanguine in
taking them about so freely,” Tony admitted. “You are a wealthy and
important man, and even before Boney’s escape, there was
considerable resentment against the latest Corn Laws.”

“
I am not certain if what I feel is my
blood freezing at your words or my blood running hot with fury,”
the duke commented softly.

“
I am saying we must take care,” Tony
told him. “There is, at this point, nothing more threatening than
the liveliness of my imagination.”

“
If I did not hold your intelligence in
high esteem, young man, we would not have been friends these past
few years. I will take steps immediately to see to the security of
my family. Including Jen and Caroline.”

“
They will not like it,” Tony
opined.

“
Unfortunate,” snapped the Duke of
Longville. “They will do as they are told.”

As Tony climbed the stairs, following Sims to
the drawing room where the Carlington ladies awaited, he was still
frowning. Had he poked his nose into a hornet’s nest, stirring up
trouble where there was none? Certainly he had instigated the
return of the Duke of Longville to his full autocratic authority,
which tended toward having no consideration for the feelings of
others, whether wife or child. Jen would not thank him for it.

Tony swore under his breath, then pasted on
his most brilliant social smile as Sims threw open the door to the
drawing room.

“
Your Grace, my lady,” the butler
intoned, “Viscount Frayne.”

~ * ~

Lady Caroline hid a wince as a pin nicked her
side. The horrified look on the face of the seamstress’s assistant
was enough to convince her the girl would be sacked on the spot if
her employer discovered her shocking negligence. There was quite
enough distress in the world, Caroline decided, without the
daughter of the Duke of Longville inadvertently adding to the long
list of hapless persons on the streets of London. She closed her
lips firmly over the complaint which had nearly slipped out. New
gowns might be quite wonderful, but the process of acquiring them
was not.

“
Ah, Caroline, there you are,” said the
duchess as she entered the room. “What a becoming gown! This is the
one we chose for Almack’s, is it not?”

In a soft swish of ivory silk Caroline swung
round to face her step-mother. “Your Grace,” she demanded, “why am
I confined to the house in this fashion, the seamstresses forced to
come here? I do not care to be a prisoner in my own home.”

All of Jen’s five feet ten inches quivered
before Lady Caroline’s wrath. Being at odds with Marcus’s eldest
child was not something she could like. Goodness knows she had
tried this past week, but the duke’s insistence on curtailing their
excursions outside the house had exacerbated tempers, rather than
helped. Instead of enjoying the full panoply of the fashions
offered by the modiste, the duchess, as well as Lady Caroline, had
had to confine herself to the fabrics and sketches the seamstress
and her helpers could transport to Longville House.

“
Caroline, you know your father’s
thoughts on this subject. We must humor him in this, I
think.”

“
Half London is off to Brussels to view
the great battle, and we cannot venture outside the house!”
Caroline declared bitterly.

“
Half London is mad then,” the duchess
returned, “for who is to say where the battle will be or when. Or
if it will take place at all.”

“
I heard papa say that all of Boney’s
old soldiers are rallying round. There
will
be a battle, he is certain of
it.”

“
And in such uncertain times your
father is wise to curtail our racketing about town,” Jenny returned
with calm good sense. “Which brings me to my reason for seeking you
out—”

“
Papa has not canceled the picnic!”
Caroline cried. “Tell me he has not.”

“
Not at all,” Jenny hastened to reply.
“I have come only to discuss the guest list with you. Tony wished
me to select some young ladies whose company you might
enjoy.”

“
Young ladies whose company Sir Chetwin
and Mr. Trimby-Ashford might enjoy,” Caroline countered.

“
That, too,” Jen agreed with a
tentative smile. “I was thinking of Lady Harriet Grantley. Her
father is one of the duke’s political friends.” Caroline offered an
infinitesimal nod of approval. “And I was wondering,” the duchess
ventured, obviously less certain of her ground, “if you would not
mind the inclusion of a young friend from my days with the army.
Truthfully, she was but a child when I knew her. My husband was an
officer in her father’s regiment. Colonel Bettencourt has gone to
fight the Americans and Emily is living with an aunt, who is, shall
we say, on the fringes of society.”

“
And you wish to include her in our
picnic?” Caroline stated coldly.

“
Her family is quite acceptable. Her
grandfather is Lord Belhampton, a baron.” Jen heard herself
burbling and was mortified.
She
was the duchess. It was her brother’s picnic party. They
could invite anyone they wished. Just because she had been foolish
enough to try to warm her relationship with her step-daughter by
consulting her . . .

Caroline looked up at her towering
step-mother, her scowl slowly fading into a knowing expression far
beyond her years. Almost, Jen wondered, as if her adversarial
step-daughter was maturing and mellowing before her eyes.

“
I believe you forget I have spent the
last eight years in a thatched cottage in a very small village,”
Lady Caroline said. “It is my father who is high in the instep, not
I. Indeed, I have discovered in myself a great curiosity about many
people who are not considered part of the
ton
. Truthfully, if the members of society are
anything like the Dowager Duchess, it seems likely I shall be
considerably more comfortable with those from the
fringes.”

“
That is settled, then,” Jen declared
briskly, bent on escaping before either her whoosh of relief or
surge of hope revealed themselves to Caroline. “My apologies for
interrupting your fitting.”

As Caroline once again lifted her arms so the
young assistant might continue pinning, she stared at the door
through which the duchess had departed. For a moment . . . just for
a moment she rather thought they had come close to being civil to
each other.

Not that the duchess wasn’t civil . . . The
second Duchess of Longville was always civil.

And Caroline knew perfectly well who
had
not
been civil. Ever since
she had come to her father’s door that first fateful night, she had
been demonstrating it did not take two to make a quarrel. She was
quite capable of carrying on a feud all by herself.

Yet her father seemed content, possibly even
pleased, with his marriage. And the new duchess was Viscount
Frayne’s sister. Possibly, just possibly, Caroline conceded, the
time for compromise had come.

Mama would not like it.

But, then, there were many things the first
Duchess of Longville had not liked. In all fairness, Caroline had
to admit that for many long years before her death her mama had not
been the gay, laughing woman she had known as a child. Nor could
the second duchess be blamed for the failure of the first duchess’s
health.

Nor should her step-mother be blamed because
the duke had chosen her to take the place of Caroline’s mama.

Caroline heaved a huge sigh. And was promptly
stuck once again by an errant pin.

Jen had always believed she looked best
perched in a saddle, where the horse might be blamed for her height
above the ground. Although her mount today was frisky, caracoling
around the brick driveway in front of Longville House, the duchess
handled him easily. Her burgundy red habit was done in the military
style, with gold braid and buttons, epaulets squaring her
shoulders. Her dark hair was topped by a shako of magnificent
proportions. This morning she was in her element, not at all
disconcerted that the cavalcade setting off for a simple picnic in
Richmond Park looked fit to rival one of Wellington’s campaign
trains.

Jen supposed she should have ridden in the
barouche with Emily Bettencourt, instead of leaving the colonel’s
daughter to fend for herself in the company of Lady Harriet
Grantley and the Honorable Mr. Trimby-Ashford, with Sir Chetwin
riding alongside. But since those few short days at Totten Court
she had spent almost no time with her husband except in the
intimacy of the night, so when he chose to ride to Richmond Park,
his duchess had promptly chosen to ride as well.

An older vehicle, a landau, held Miss
Tompkins, with Laurence, Susan, and a nursery maid. Lord Frayne led
the cavalcade in his curricle, with Lady Caroline by his side. The
two fully loaded wagons, needed to carry the necessities for the
picnic plus the servants, brought up the rear. To this, the duke
had added so many armed outriders that the duchess could only
wonder at it. If only they had had such a fine escort when
following at the tail of the army in Spain.

“
Good God,” the duke exploded, his
mount nudging close to hers. “Tell me that’s not the tavern wench
with Laurence.”

“
Tavern wench?” Jen
questioned.

“
There, right there in the carriage,”
her husband ground out. “It’s that foolish girl from the Lake
District. She returned to Little Stoughton when we picked up
Laurence, so why is she here? Impossible,” he sputtered. “We can’t
have her in the nursery. She can’t even speak proper
English.”

“
One moment,” Jen murmured, maneuvering
her horse until she was next to her brother’s curricle. When she
returned, she was thinking hard, to little avail as the new duchess
was incurably honest. “Lady Caroline says that is indeed Nell
Brindley,” she told the glowering duke. “The girl was so enchanted
with London, she wished to live here. It seems she was in the
servants’ carriage on your return trip.”