Lady Pamela (23 page)

Lady Millicent. She looked up at him with wide, frightened eyes.

Benjamin took a deep breath, his anger at once dissipating.

“Your grace.” She curtseyed low.

The duke bowed in return. “Good day to you, my lady,” he said, wanting to reassure her but having no idea what to say. Nothing, perhaps. As he turned to continue down the hallway he heard a rustling of skirts behind him and then, once again, Millicent’s soft voice.

“Lord Torrance?”

He turned back to Lady Millicent. Her hands were clasped together tightly; her eyes sought his.

“I will make you happy,” said Millicent Chambers. “I promise you. I will make you happy.”

* * * *

Lady Pamela slept late that morning, and awoke refreshed and feeling more cheerful than she remembered in ages. The Lincolnshires’ ball had extended so far into the early hours of the morning that no-one would be expected to make or receive calls that day, a custom among the
ton
for such an event. Pam longed to see the duke, but she almost welcomed the respite. ’Twould be a day to recover, and to plan what she would say to Lord Torrance when he did make his visit.

As he would do, surely. Lady Pamela felt a moment’s unease, remembering the waltz and their last words together. She dismissed the feeling at once, certain that the duke somehow felt what she felt, knew that she resisted him no longer. ’Twas no more than a silly misunderstanding!

He had called before after a quarrel, thought Lady Pamela, remembering the Marthwaites’ ball. He would do so again.

A day to wait, only. A single day to dream.

* * * *

The duke rued the hour he had left Wiltshire. Would that his only problem was burdock in the pasture or a stable needing to be mucked out. Would that he could return to Corsham Manor, and spend his days on Xairephon, riding his lands, and never see London again.

You cannot abandon Lady Millicent
, the little voice told him, much as he tried not to listen.

If only Lady Pamela had accepted his proposal, if only they were already wed.

But she had not, and they were not. And how could he even have hoped, last night, that matters between them would ever change? They had quarreled again, and she had left him on the Lincolnshires’ dance floor, and walked away, and perhaps this was indeed the end.

And in the meantime, even as her father had said, Lady Millicent Chambers was an innocent. Their current predicament was no more her fault than it was Benjamin’s own, but she alone was left to pay.

Lord Torrance’s thoughts flew in circles. He had tossed and turned that night in his bed, and finally given up on sleep. He roamed the hallways of the second floor for a time, eventually finding himself at the doors to the duchess’s suite.

’Twas as lovely a set of rooms as one might hope, now. The new bed Lady Pamela had selected had been delivered only days ago, accompanied by a matching wardrobe and two comfortable, overstuffed chairs. The chairs had been arranged in front of the fireplace, and Benjamin imagined himself sitting there in front of a cheerful blaze with his...his wife.

Lady Millicent Torrance, Duchess of Grentham.

He had no wish to marry the girl, but that was a selfish consideration, thought Benjamin, a mere trifle against the magnitude of the consequences she would face should her reputation be ruined.

And Lady Pamela’s wishes? Benjamin had once thought she loved him, and even last night he had believed he could convince her, this time, of marriage. But perhaps that was no more than a foolish dream. And if Lady Pamela had truly left him no chance to win her hand, then what did it matter to whom he was married? To beat endlessly against a locked door was only to beat yourself senseless.

And until he could give up Lady Pamela, he lived in fantasy.

If he could not give her up, release her once and for all, then he could not bear to continue seeing her, even as a friend. The duke did not think he would survive that circumstance. To live in London, knowing she slept only streets away, and dare not so much as to pay her a call.

Wiltshire would be too near for such misery, let alone Audley Square. He might as well return to Virginia, if he was to be forced to give up the least glimpse of her.

Lady Pamela was worth everything to him. She was worth the renouncement of his own love for her, if that is what it took to keep friendship alive, to be able hear her voice every now and again.

A renouncement of love, and a betrothal to Lady Millicent.

Under other circumstances he would not marry immediately, of course. But the situation demanded a decision, and Lord Torrance began to think there was no reason to put it off. He did not love Lady Millicent Chambers, but he had seen enough in her to believe he could hold her in reasonable esteem as a wife. He was haunted by the memory of her being held on the grass by Lord Castlereaugh, and by the terror in her voice as she cried, “I will not marry him!”

Haunted by the plea in her wide, brown eyes as she promised him she would make him happy.

The earl knew that ’twas not the duke who had walked out into the gardens with Lady Millicent. But the
ton
did not understand, and Lord Chambers was in no hurry to explain, and even the truth might serve the girl no better.

Someone, thought Benjamin, must marry her.

Himself. Or Lord Castlereaugh.

* * * *

’Twas a glorious day, thought Lady Pamela. The skies were cloudy and grey, perhaps, and the winter rains had set in early this year. But glorious nevertheless.

Her day of rest and respite was over, and another night’s peaceful sleep had left her near to bouncing in anticipation. All thoughts of waltzes and stupid arguments had been banished from her mind, and she expected to hear from the duke at almost any moment, expected to find him standing in the doorway to her morning
salon
, smiling down at her as if the past few months had never happened. As if it was once again the morning after the wedding ball, and she was lying content in his embrace.

And if he did not come, it hardly mattered, for she would visit Marchers herself, her pretext an inspection of the new furniture in the duchess’s suite. As if she really needed any excuse! A moment’s time alone with Lord Torrance was all Lady Pamela asked. She had no doubt that she could persuade him of her true affections, and that this day would end with her engagement to the Duke of Grentham.

’Tis the beginning, thought Pam. The beginning of happily ever after.

But the rose garden comes first
, she reminded herself, having decided on this activity to occupy her mind. The gallica roses needed attention if they were to survive a hard frost, and she had promised herself that this coming winter they would not be abandoned to the first snow. She pulled on a pair of gardening boots, and went in search of a clean pair of leather gloves.

Her love for the Duke of Grentham, and his love for her, could wait a few hours more.

* * * *

Lord Torrance returned to the Earl of Banbridge’s London townhome that next morning.

The conversation between the two men was short and to the point. The earl was dissatisfied with Benjamin’s proposed settlements, claiming that Lord Castlereaugh had offered much more. But the duke was not biting, and did not care.

“Be happy with what I offer,” he told Lord Chambers. “Make it enough.”

The earl’s face became alarmingly red. “To be paid immediately, then,” he told Benjamin. “This very afternoon.”

The duke laughed. “Pah. To be paid upon my marriage to Lady Millicent.”

“What! Impossible.” Lord Chambers glared at him. “The girl can marry Lord Castlereaugh if that is to be your answer.”

The duke leaned over the desk as he had the day before, his face once again level with that of Millicent’s father. The earl’s eyes darted nervously this way and that, refusing to meet Benjamin’s own. He’s bluffing, thought the duke. Perhaps Castlereaugh is not such a sure thing after all.

“As you wish,” said Lord Torrance.

“Oh, but–” sputtered Lord Chambers. “Let’s not be hasty–”

“No more quibbling,” Benjamin told him. “Unless you would choose nothing at all.”

“This is an outrage!”

“Enough. Matters will be arranged exactly as I have said.”

* * * *

And so it was done, and the Duke of Grentham became engaged to Lady Millicent Chambers, only child and daughter of the Earl of Banbridge.

An eminently suitable match, arranged with the earl’s blessing, after which the prospective groom managed a few words in the hallway with his bride.

She had waited in the same doorway, her eyes as wide and troubled as before.

“Lady Millicent,” he said, bowing. “Your father and I have... have come to an agreement.”

Good grief, didn’t that sound romantic? Benjamin groaned inwardly, but he did not think Millicent a fool, and, as they were barely acquainted, she surely had no expectation of pretty words.

“I am so sorry, your...your grace,” she whispered.

The duke could find no answer. “We are to be married Friday next,” he said finally.

Her mouth opened in a silent gasp. “Ten...ten days?”

“Indeed,” said Benjamin. “Now, I’m sure you have much to do, but I will call on you tomorrow, for a drive. Let us endeavor to make...”
–the best of it
, he had almost said–“a fine afternoon of it, and get to know one another a little better.”

“Yes... of course.”

“Good afternoon to you, Lady Millicent.” He bowed quickly, and retreated down the hallway.

* * * *

A major ball was always good for gossip. Lady Detweiler, who had been plagued by a annoying tendency to wake before noon ever since the business at Marchers House began, decided it would be a fine day to visit Lady Marthwaite. Patience would be able to fill her in on anything Amanda might have missed.

Lord Bainsborough had gotten drunk, so she had heard, and relieved himself in full sight of several of the older ladies, and been beaten soundly about the head by the dowager Marchioness of Skeltie, who always carried a parasol. Then there was young Miss Fisher-Smythe, who had been discovered in the library with a footman–someone was always being discovered in the library with a footman–but Amanda was sure she had not heard the end of
that
story, for the young woman’s father was rich, and had intended his daughter to marry up, and it was difficult to say what effect the incident might have on the girl’s prospects.

Peregrine Carroll, as expected, was a book of gossip unto himself. Lady Detweiler had worried to see Pamela accepting a waltz with the man, but that had been the end of it. And then Amanda had spoken to Lord Torrance, giving him as much of a push as she dared. It seemed to have worked, for Pam and the duke had waltzed, and then both of them had gone missing from the ballroom for some time, which was always a good sign.

And when the evening was finished and they were all bundled back into the carriage for the ride home, Lady Pamela had said nothing of the Duke of Grentham, but she had seemed happier and more at her ease than she had been for months.

And that was a very good sign, indeed.

“Oh, Lady Detweiler! Oh, my goodness, you cannot credit what I have just now heard!”

Patience was alone for the moment, and so delighted to see Amanda, so desperate to share the latest
on dit
, that she gripped Lady Detweiler by the arm and pulled her down onto the couch.

“The duke! Oh, my dear, you have no idea! No idea at all! The duke! Engaged, my dear,
engaged
!”

* * * *

Lady Pamela, humming cheerfully, was pruning a few last autumn blooms from the gallicas when Lady Detweiler came to call.

“Good heavens,” said Pam, looking at Amanda’s feet. “ ’Tis dirt right there, you know. Under your shoes.”

“Dearest,” said Lady Detweiler, “I must talk with you.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

The next day was warmer, and Lady Detweiler and Maximilian visited Hillsleigh in the early afternoon, insisting that Lady Pamela accompany them for a drive. She acceded to the request, knowing that Amanda would bully her into consent anyway, and lacking the energy for an argument.

Both Detweiler cousins were unusually quiet, with no hint of their accustomed teasing, and Lady Pamela was not sure that she liked the change. She wasn’t sure she liked much of anything today, however.

It didn’t help that she understood what had happened in the Lincolnshires’ garden. Understood it completely, as no other person in the
haut ton
was in position to, save Lady Millicent, her father, and the duke himself. It didn’t even help that she
agreed
with what Lord Torrance had done and was, in fact, both touched and obscurely gratified by the selflessness of his actions.

“The duke is engaged to Lady Millicent Chambers,” Amanda had told her yesterday, without preamble. Lady Detweiler stood among the fragrant blooms of the gallica roses, paying no mind to the dirt beneath her feet.

The duke is engaged....

And Pam had known, known immediately what had happened, and why. It was, for once, more than Amanda could boast.

“ ’Twas Castlereaugh, ” she told Lady Detweiler, when she was able to speak. “In the gardens.”

“
Castlereaugh? Whatever are you talking about? Lady Millicent is engaged to the
duke
.”

And Lady Pamela explained all of it then, from beginning to end. Her argument with Lord Torrance during their waltz–
Oh, for heaven’s sake
, said Amanda–her flight into the gardens, and getting lost, and being nearly knocked off her feet by an injured Enoch Castlereaugh.

Then, coming upon Lady Millicent and the duke, the Earl of Banbridge, Lady Harkins–

“Beatrice Harkins!” expostulated Lady Detweiler, at this point. “Of all the ill luck.”

“Luck? I thought so as well, at first. But now–”

“Oh. Oh, of course,” said Amanda, comprehending Pamela’s logic at once. “How convenient. Drag the inimitable Lady Harkins into the gardens and surprise your poor daughter being molested by a very rich man.”

“Beatrice may have surprised the earl, instead,” said Lady Pamela, with a hint of a smile. “I didn’t get the impression she was overly fond of Lord Castlereaugh.”