The Duke Dilemma (21 page)

Augusta could not understand why Lady Vernon did not wish an introduction to His Grace. A match between them would be splendid above all things.

“Good morning, ma’am,” the approaching merchant greeted. “I am Mr. Bing. How may I assist you?”

“I am interested in a pair of long gloves,” Augusta informed him.

“Very well.” He reached into his apron pocket and pulled out a tape measure. “If I may measure your hands?”

“Of course.” Augusta set her gloves upon the counter next to her reticule, then held out her hands for study.

“Oh, my,” Mr. Bing exclaimed softly, clearly taken aback.

“Is there something wrong?” Augusta pulled her hands away, clasping them protectively together.

“Nothing, my lady. I beg your pardon.” His brows rose when he widened his eyes, observing, “You have very delicate hands, I must say.” Mr. Bing straightened and his cheeks flushed, divulging the impropriety of his observation to excuse his overly familiar comment.

“Well, I don’t know, really…” She extended her hands before her once again.

Mr. Bing placed the measuring tape around the fullest part of her right hand, then the left. Then he measured the tip of her middle finger to the wrist, first the left, then the right. “Were you interested in silk or kid leather? And what color did you wish to see? Is there a swatch of fabric or a sample of your gown you’d like to match?”

“Definitely kid, and what color was decided?” Augusta gazed at Lady Vernon, hoping her friend’s memory was better than her own. “Was it not ivory, or had I finally decided on white? I cannot recall.”

“I believe your final verdict was white,” Lady Vernon reminded her. “I’m not sure which shade of white, as you were not quite certain which gown you would wear.”

“Oh, that is right.” Augusta turned to Mr. Bing. “White, if you please, a soft white, I think. Not too bright.”

“At once,” he excused himself. “I shall only be a few moments.”

“You see,” Augusta turned to her companion. “I daresay I might have asked for yellow or puce if it were not for you.”

“I very much doubt that,” Lady Vernon remarked, then chuckled. Some item in the nearby glass case caught her attention, and she stepped away for a closer look.

As she stood waiting for Mr. Bing to return, Augusta’s thoughts turned to the most pressing issue—her father. He and Louise Vernon would make a splendid match. If only he were willing to meet her, and—Augusta drew in a long, slow breath—if only she could convince her friend to meet His Grace.

If only…if only…if only Augusta could contrive a meeting between the two of them. It shouldn’t be too difficult. All she need do was be a bit more clever. She glanced over to Lady Vernon, looked beyond her friend’s shoulder, and observed just coming into the shop…“Papa!”

Papa?
Louise turned from the display case instinctively toward the storefront, dread rising inside her.

“Augusta!” The Duke grasped her outstretched hand.

“What are you doing here, of all places?” Augusta sounded genuinely shocked by her father’s presence.

“I’m in the market for a small, thoughtful gift for a lady of my acquaintance. It is one I feel I must choose myself,” he informed her.

“It’s that important?” She sounded impressed, and widened her eyes with interest. “Oh, I beg your pardon, Papa, allow me to present my dear friend, Lady Vernon.”

“Lady Vernon—” His Grace touched the brim of his hat.

“My lady,” Augusta continued, “my father, the Duke of Faraday.”

“Your Grace.” Louise curtsied, dreading this moment even more than she had imagined. She hoped he would not recognize her. “How do you do?”

“Ah, here you are, my lady.” Mr. Bing returned with several long, narrow boxes. Augusta busied herself with the new gloves and fell out of the conversation. “I have brought a selection of colors for your perusal.”

The Duke turned toward Louise. She could clearly read his expression:
Where had he seen her before?

What could she do? What would she say?

“I beg your pardon, my lady, but have we previously met?” There it was. The question she had dreaded.

“Yes, Your Grace.” Louise dared not let on she’d been the lowly gardener at the house on Conduit Street. “We had a brief meeting at Somerset House at the Royal Academy Art Exhibition this last week with Lady Gelsthorpe. There was no proper introduction at that time.”

“Ah, yes, indeed. I do recall.” The answer seemed to have satisfied His Grace. “You have the right of it. But Vernon…Vernon…your name seems very familiar…is it possible I also may have known you from—”

“I have been acquainted with your daughter Augusta for many years now by way of my nephew, Sir Samuel Pruitt.” If only that answer would satisfy him. If only he would cease asking her questions.

“Sir Samuel! Ah, yes—you are the aunt to whom he has referred so many times.”

“Just as he has spoken of you to me over the years. You are not
completely
unknown to me, sir.”

“It seems we are not strangers at all,” the Duke announced.

“No, not really, Your Grace.” Finally, they had had a proper introduction. Louise need not fear their meeting any longer.

“An excellent choice, my lady!” Mr. Bing cried out.

“I am happy with them.” Augusta turned, allowing the others of her party to admire the fit of her gloves. “What do you think?”

“She plans to wear them for the opera tonight,” Louise informed His Grace.

“I’ll have these three pairs, if you please.” Augusta indicated two on display and the ones she presently wore. “If you will be so good as to add them to my father’s account.”

“At once.” Mr. Bing inclined his head to excuse himself. “I shall return momentarily.”

Augusta took up her day gloves then turned to her father and confessed in a sad voice, “My others are in shreds.”

“I’m quite certain they are.” The Duke’s brows rose. However, Louise doubted he would say one contrary word to his firstborn.

“Will you not change your mind about the opera this evening, Papa?”

“I’m afraid not, my dear. You know I have promised to accompany your brother.” His answer did not please his daughter, and it would result in her sharing Charlotte’s box.

“It has been a pleasure serving you, my lady.” Mr. Bing returned with Augusta’s bundled purchases and set them on the counter before her.

“Thank you, Mr. Bing.” Augusta took hold of her purchase and faced her father. “Lady Vernon and I must be off now.”

The Duke glanced from his daughter to Louise and back again before tipping his hat. “I bid the two of you a good day, then.”

Louise and Augusta murmured their farewells and headed for the door.

“May I be of any assistance to you, Your Grace?” Mr. Bing made the transition to his new patron in a swift and seamless manner.

The Duke stepped closer to the counter. “Yes, I would like to see your selection of ladies’ fine silk handkerchiefs.”

Louise thought their spontaneous meeting went well. Clearly, by Augusta’s reaction, she’d had no notion of her father’s imminent arrival. And it seemed equally clear to Louise that he had no intention of attending the opera that evening, leaving the way clear for her to accompany her friend.

“I have changed my mind, Augusta,” Louise told her once they had left the shop. “I shall accompany you tonight, if your offer still stands.”

Augusta’s face brightened at the news. “That is what I wish above all things! I shall collect you at six and we shall have a splendid dinner together.”

If Augusta had thought it had been a long time since she had been to the opera, what would she think of Louise’s last attendance? It had been with her husband over two decades ago!

Tuesday afternoon, Lady Gelsthorpe’s carriage went about Town collecting several members of their ladies’ reading group. Once they’d stopped and Mrs. Templeton had entered the transport, Louise learned the first volume of
Emma
had been sent to the newcomer. Mrs. Templeton would, no doubt, continue with the story, beginning with chapter seven.

“Let us all be seated, if you please!” Lady Gelsthorpe swept through the room in her dark violet gown and clapped her hands to gain the attention of the group. “We welcome our dear Mrs. Templeton as she returns to Town and rejoins us.”

A chattering of greetings took center stage for the next few moments until they all had had their say and caught up on the goings-on in their lives.

Once silence was achieved, Lady Ashton turned to their returning member. “Are you finding Emma’s story interesting?”

“Yes, indeed,” Mrs. Templeton replied. “I could hardly bring myself to stop at the proper place.”

“But you did, did you not?” Lady Gelsthorpe would brook no deviation from their reading schedule. It simply was not allowed.

“Of course I stopped.” Mrs. Templeton continued, “I cannot wait to learn to whom Mr. Elton has formed an attachment.”

“To whom? What can you mean, ma’am?” Miss Euphemia Dillingham’s pale eyes grew round and wide.

“Of course he is forming an attachment for Miss Smith,” Lady Ashton said with certainty.

“Is he?” Mrs. Templeton intoned with a questionable lilt. “I can see how Emma might think he displays a marked preference for Miss Smith, but I suspect Miss Woodhouse might also be in his sights for conquest.”

“That is outrageous!” Lady Gelsthorpe finally offered an opinion on the matter.

“Do not say such a thing, Mrs. Templeton,” Lady Ashton exclaimed, affronted. “Mr. Elton is no proper match for Miss Woodhouse. His position as vicar—no, no, no…it is not at all proper.”

“If Emma does not marry Mr. Elton, who would she marry?” inquired Mrs. Templeton as if the connection between Emma and the vicar were quite as apparent to all as it had been for her.

The ladies glanced at one another for an answer. Louise thought it a bit early in the story to even attempt creating matches for the characters. They, as readers, had surely not met
them all and could not know the minds of those who had yet to be introduced.

“Is it not obvious?” Lady Ashton spoke first. “Emma shall wed the only true gentleman in the story…Mr. Knightley.”

“Knightley?” Miss Dillingham quickly brought her hand to her mouth, too late to suppress his name, and her cheeks reddened.

“Why must Emma marry at all?” Louise chimed in at once. When was the right to remain unattached becoming a state she needed to defend?

“Because, Lady Vernon, it is our duty as women to have a husband.” Lady Gelsthorpe had finally found her voice. “We cannot continue as we are in our little group, no matter how comfortable we find ourselves. We keep ourselves quite entertained, but ultimately we should all marry, or remarry, whatever our situation. No man is complete without a wife and no woman is complete without a man by her side. It does not matter if he be a lowly farmer or a duke!”

A duke?
Whyever had she said that? The words quite took Louise’s breath away.

“It remains to be seen what exactly the future holds for Miss Woodhouse and Miss Smith; their story has just begun. We can continue with the tale as soon as we are all comfortably seated.” Lady Gelsthorpe made a grand gesture for them to properly situate themselves. “Mrs. Templeton, you have our book. Will you do us the honor of reading chapter seven?”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Once they’d arrived at the Shrope ball, Edward had barely removed his coat before Frederick whispered to him, “I’m off to find Miss Shrope and see if I can stand up with her straightaway.” He brushed down the sleeves of his jacket, setting himself to rights, and departed.

Edward understood that Miss Julia Shrope was in Town for her second Season. Her mother had to make every effort to contract a marriage this year, thus Frederick’s invitation as a suitor and his son’s subsequent request for His Grace’s company this evening.

The Duke inclined his head, acknowledging the effort his son applied to the fallacious romance, though he did not believe Frederick held any affection for the young lady. In fact, he might be the only person who knew the Shrope females were not of any matrimonial interest to either one of them. But there must have been other gentlemen who might wish Miss Shrope as a prospective bride, for the young lady was very pretty and quite agreeable. Her return for a third Season would be unfathomable.