The Duke Dilemma (14 page)

CHAPTER EIGHT

How had it turned out that Edward accompanied these ladies to the Art Exhibition? He wasn’t quite sure. He rubbed the top of his cane with his gloved hand in contemplation and made a concerted effort to stare in their direction and not to rest upon any of them. To gaze out the window and ignore the guests would be beyond rude.

“I thank you again for your generosity, Papa. You are so kind to offer to escort us this afternoon.” Charlotte’s inherent charm was what had convinced the Duke to collect his daughter and her two guests at Danbury Place and accompany them on this outing.

“I am happy to do so, my dear.” He gazed upon his daughter and the first thought that came to him was:
Could anyone ever refuse her anything?

The Duke descended from his crested carriage before Somerset House and waited for the remainder of his party to disembark. Besides Charlotte, accompanying him were Lady Margaret and Miss Orr.

Charlotte’s visitors had preened for nearly the duration of the drive. They might not have even considered their small movements, adjusting their hair here, shifting the arrangement of a ruffle there. No, it had not gone unnoticed. They batted their eyelashes, practiced various facial expressions, and continued to
fiddle with their accessories from the moment they entered his carriage until they rolled to a final halt.

Were they practicing their attitudes for some unsuspecting gentleman whom they might encounter during the afternoon? The thought that Lady Margaret and Miss Orr had come to Town to catch a husband had occurred to him. They were far from young ladies coming out for their first Season, but they were unmarried, and why shouldn’t they have a chance at marital bliss?

He must make some effort to encourage them, he supposed. It wouldn’t be too long before Charlotte would have
the talk
with him. The benefits of being connected with his family, with him—a public display to show he approved of them would cause all of Society to open their arms in welcome.

Frederick might have done Edward the same courtesy and accompanied them this afternoon. The Duke completely understood his son’s previous engagement of driving in the Park with Miss Davies-Holmes, and part of him delighted that he could not be the fourth in his son’s carriage, keeping Lady Davies-Holmes occupied. While Frederick might have some interest in Miss Davies-Holmes, Edward did not, and considered himself outré because he still could not imagine what attracted his son to the young lady.

Once Lady Margaret, Miss Orr, and Charlotte had alit from the carriage, they proceeded without a squabble. Miss Orr, wearing a hat adorned with a half dozen or so pheasant tail feathers, stepped forward, taking his arm to be escorted into the exhibition.

Edward had to commend Miss Orr and Lady Margaret for not fighting over who would be the first to take his arm. They had, no doubt, worked that small detail out before his arrival. All was calm, peaceful, and both were fully accommodating during the entire journey to Somerset House.

It was remarkable, quite a difference from the previous evening he had spent in their company, when raised voices and
deadly glares had passed between the ladies. This afternoon, if all went well, might be enjoyable even to him.

They passed through the front doors, entered the foyer, and headed for the staircase. Up and around, and up, up, up, and around again, and again, and again they climbed, as the Exhibition Room lay at the very top of the winding staircase. It looked as if one hundred visitors occupied the enormous room. They lined up along the edge to see the paintings, rested on the seats in the center of the room, or meandered between the two, making their way to the doorway to exit.

“Oh! Is this not splendid?” Miss Orr exclaimed. Her gaze swung from one end of the room to the other. “Where shall we begin?”

“The choice shall be yours,” Edward told her. “Whether we study the paintings from here to there or from there to here, it makes no difference to me.”

“Let us wait for Lady Charlotte.” Miss Orr motioned for the Duke to step to one side, allowing the flow of traffic to pass while they waited for the other half of their party.

“Come, ladies.” Charlotte forged ahead, clearing a path for the rest to follow. Miss Orr trailed after Lady Margaret as she passed, with her voluminous capote perched on her head, and Edward brought up the rear.

It wasn’t near the crush he had thought it would be. Edward stepped through the room with no obstruction, following Miss Orr’s lead. He paused once he spotted Miss Orr’s pheasant feathers still, indicating she was no longer moving forward. The Duke slowed to a stop.

“
We
are delighted to see Your Grace once again. It has been an age, has it not?” a woman’s voice called to him from his left.

“Lady Gelsthorpe,” Edward replied once he faced her. “It has, indeed, been a very long time. Are you enjoying the exhibition?”

“Extremely.
We
are especially taken with the landscapes at the far end of the room.
We
cannot recommend highly enough that you spend some time, at length, admiring them.”

The Duke glanced in that direction, making a mental note to devote time for appropriate study as deemed by Lady Gelsthorpe.

“Will you allow
us
to present
our
guests?” With the sweep of her arm, she bought his attention to the trio of ladies next to her. “
We
believe you already know Lady Ashton, Your Grace.”

“Yes, of course, Lady Ashton.” Edward inclined his head, glancing beyond their small gathering to his own group.

“May
we
introduce Lady Vernon, Mrs. Dumfries, and Miss—”

Edward caught sight of Charlotte turning about, searching for him. “I beg your pardon, I do not wish to be rude, but my own party desires my presence. My humble apologies for the lack of proper introductions, ladies. Another time perhaps?” He hurried away toward Charlotte. By the look on Lady Margaret’s brightening face at his approach, he supposed it was her turn to take his arm.

“That”—Edward heard Lady Gelsthorpe announce to those in her party—“was His Grace, the Duke of Faraday.”

Duke. He was a duke?

Louise could not believe her own eyes. The Duke’s name was very familiar to Louise. She had heard it used time after time but had no notion it referred to
this
man. She stood, stunned, absolutely astonished beyond belief. She had recognized him as a gentleman upon first laying eyes on him in her garden yesterday, of course. He’d spent the good part of the afternoon in her company.
Hours.

And he wasn’t just any duke, as if making the acquaintance with dukes was a daily occurrence, which it had never been, but he was the Duke of Faraday—of
Faraday Hall
.

Faraday Hall…the place Louise had so often written upon her letters even though it had been some years since she had done so. She was friends, very good friends, with his eldest daughter, Augusta. Goodness—he was Augusta’s father and friend to her nephew, Sir Samuel Pruitt.

As the gardener, Louise had covered her face to disguise her identity, and it appeared to have worked. Or perhaps it was that he hadn’t exactly looked at her then. Louise could not be entirely sure, but he had seemed distracted.

For him to discover that she had kept his company while portraying a lowly gardener would put her in an uncomfortable position. The thought of it horrified her, and Louise decided it would be best if their paths did not cross again.

“We are ready to continue, Lady Vernon,” Lady Gelsthorpe called to her. “Are you…is there a problem?”

“No.” Louise chided herself for…for everything. How could she have been so…so bird-witted? “I am sorry to keep you waiting. Let us continue, please.” She fell back, following a few steps behind Mrs. Dumfries, who normally trailed their group.

Louise turned to glance over her shoulder. There was no trace of him. What if she were to come face-to-face with His Grace again? What were the odds?

Louise did not think that likely. She rarely ventured out of her house. Lady Gelsthorpe had insisted she attend the outing this afternoon. Her book group readings were only a small group of women, the same members with little change year after year. No, Louise was fairly certain meeting the Duke of Faraday again was highly unlikely.

“Are we agreed it is time to depart?” Lady Gelsthorpe paused, considering those in her party and making the final decision on the matter. She nodded her head. “Very well, we shall leave.”

Louise made her way to the portal with her small group, distressed that an introduction through Augusta was a possibility.
At present she lived in Sussex and the opportunity of a Town visit, especially with her little ones to raise, seemed small. Sir Samuel was acquainted with His Grace, but then again the chance Louise would encounter the Duke through that avenue was even more remote.

The Duke had returned the key to her gate, leaving him no access to her garden. Why, for heaven’s sake, would he ever wish to return?

This was silly. Louise was causing herself undue distress for no reason at all.

Really, truly, she was overreacting; there was nothing for her to worry about.

Louise returned home within the hour. Hers was the first stop Lady Gelsthorpe’s carriage made. It would then continue on to deliver Mrs. Dumfries and Lady Ashton to their residences and finally arrive at Lady Gelsthorpe’s home, Benchley.

“Good afternoon ta ya, milady.” Betty opened the front door, admitting Louise into the townhouse.

“Thank you, Betty.” Louise stepped inside and removed her gloves. She had every intention of attending her garden this afternoon since the warmest part of the day was still to come.

“There’s a letter for you. It’s in the silver tray on the foyer table, there.”

Louise recognized Lady Augusta’s script three paces away. The sight of the missive brought a smile to her face and, at the same time, hesitation to her breath. Correspondence from her friend would be just the thing to brighten her day, but the
reminder of her friend’s connection to the Duke of Faraday caused Louise some residual concern.

“We be having some broth, bread, and meat pie this evening for dinner, milady,” the maid called out.

“That sounds fine, Betty.” Louise retrieved the letter before heading to her bedchamber to change into her work clothes and head out to her garden.

Climbing the stairs, she reflected on how well the ladies’ group suited her. Louise also had family members and some friends with whom she corresponded on a frequent basis, Lady Augusta being one of them. Rebecca met Louise upon entering her bedchamber, where she handed the lady’s maid her gloves and reticule.

“My work clothes, if you please, Rebecca.” Louise broke the seal on the missive, unfolded the paper, and read:

My dear Lady Vernon,

I hope this letter finds you well. I cannot tell you how fortuitous that you have cut short your stay with your sister and returned home. I have traveled to Town, for a fortnight or so, and you shall find me at Worth House—

Augusta was in London? Louise stared up from the letter. And perhaps even worse, Lady Augusta knew Louise lived only a few blocks away. Scanning down toward the end of the note, Louise read:

I beg that you come to tea Monday afternoon, if it is at all possible. At that time I can introduce you to my other family members. We all shall be quite delighted to meet you.

Yours very affectionately, Augusta

Other family members…what
others
? Did she refer to her father? Louise found it difficult to take a breath. The entire idea of her going to Worth House, into the home of the man she did not wish to see under any circumstances, well…it was too disturbing to contemplate.

Only a few hours ago she thought meeting the Duke of Faraday as remote as her traveling to the North Pole…now she was faced with the possibility of taking tea with him in his home. No, under no circumstances could Louise accept. She glanced down at the missive—but how could she refuse? Louise dearly wished to see Augusta again, and to decline the invitation would be unthinkable. What was she to do?

“Here are your frock and apron.” Rebecca had returned with the garments draped over her arm and held her shoes, stockings, and large-brimmed hat.

“Thank you.” Louise carefully folded the letter and tucked it beneath a book sitting on her nightstand. She removed her hat and laid it on her dressing table.

There was a scratch at the door, and Rebecca went to answer at once, while Betty stood by her side.

“I beg your pardon, ma’am,” she began. “Mrs. Templeton is here to call on you. Shall I tell her you’re not at home?”

Daphne, here? “No, I’ll see her.” Why did everything seem to happen all at once? Louise turned to her maid. “This will have to wait, Rebecca.”

“Naturally.” The maid laid her mistress’s work clothes aside.

“Shall I ’ave Dora fix a tea tray, milady?”

“Yes, Betty, thank you.” Louise glanced into the mirror, not that she had time to make any repairs to her appearance, only to reassure herself she did not bear any resemblance to the turmoil she felt inside.