The Duke Dilemma (6 page)

Although the lure of her terrace was strong, Louise decided it might be best to wait until the warmest part of the day to tend her plants. Rebecca was doing her a favor. It would be best if a few friends she had in Town were notified of her presence.

“The Earl’s missive sits in the tray on the foyer table for you,” Louise informed Rebecca. “I believe I will wait a bit longer, until the weather is more…hospitable before I venture outdoors. I hope it does not rain.”

“Rain? It could not be as bad as all that.” Rebecca set the teacup next to Louise’s plate.

“I daresay it might rain before the day is out.” Louise gave a nod of thanks. “You best be on your way before the clouds grow any thicker.”

Rebecca glanced out the window, taking note of the dismal forecast. “Perhaps I shall suggest we leave at once.” She collected her breakfast dishes and headed for the kitchen.

Louise rose from the table, took up her teacup and saucer, and strolled to the window. She could barely see the street. Tending her garden would be equally as foolish since visibility would be no better at the rear of the townhouse than in the front.

Nevertheless, it felt good to be home. Rain or shine, it did not matter. Louise knew her happiness resided within the confines of these walls and among her plants in her garden.

“Would you please explain to me again why I am to accompany you for a drive with Miss Davies-Holmes?” Edward had neglected the afternoon’s Parliament session on Frederick’s request and presently rode in the open-air carriage toward the residence of the young lady.

“I’ll think you’ll find Miss Davies-Holmes is quite exceptional,” Frederick began. “I met her last night at the opera.”

“I do not recall meeting her.” If Edward had insisted his son purchase a two-person vehicle, there would not be a question of accompanying him now.

“You were not present.” Frederick reseated his hat upon his head before easing into the squabs and crossing his legs.

“I never left your side. When did you have a chance to meet this paragon?” Edward had kept company with his son between the intermission and end of the play—he couldn’t imagine when Frederick had made her acquaintance, much less scheduled this outing.

“I did not think you near old enough to allow yourself to be carried off by Morpheus in the middle of the second act until the very end.” Frederick brushed at his sleeve. “But you did manage to do so. Do you recall departing when nearly all the other guests had gone?”

“Do you mean to tell me you left during the opera to meet with a young lady?” Edward could not think of a more improper prelude to an introduction. What he truly found outrageous was that he could have dozed during the opera.

“No, no. We met after the curtain went down.” Frederick sounded impatient.

And Edward had managed to remain asleep during the applause that followed. How had that happened?

“You would know all this if you’d been awake.”

Had this woman been casting lures at his son during the performance? The news grew worse. The type of female that could attract him from a distance could not be one whom the Duke would wish his son to marry nor share an acquaintance of any sort.

“You cannot change your mind. You
must
accompany me.” Frederick tugged at his cravat, displaying a case of nerves for the first time since they’d begun their journey.

“I hadn’t realized I had a choice. We are on our way to collect them now, are we not?” Edward found his son’s behavior, most
anxious
behavior if truth be told, a bit unsettling. It was almost as if he felt some rush to get to the altar, despite his claim otherwise.

“This is your carriage and your driver. I suppose you could order him to turn about and head back to wherever you dash-well pleased.”

“I don’t believe for a second you think I’d do such a thing.”

“No, I don’t.” Frederick smiled, displaying his confidence. His voice held a slight tremor when he next spoke. “She is to be chaperoned.”

“A dragon I must fend off for you?” Edward wondered if his son feared her or what she represented, the importance of propriety in a situation such as this. This young lady must have made quite an impression upon him, indeed. He did not wish to err.

“It’s her mother. I believe her to be an equally exceptional woman,” Frederick conveyed with all sincerity. “I thought it might be a nice gesture if we were to entertain them both.”

Since when did Frederick think of a
nice gesture
when it came to a girl’s mother?

Within a half hour of arriving at the residence, the four of them sat comfortably in the carriage, which tooled toward Hyde Park.

“I hope you don’t mind that I accompany you and your daughter this afternoon, my lady?” Edward knew she would not state the contrary but wished to be considerate of her sensibilities of foisting his company upon her.

“Of course not, Your Grace.” Lady Davies-Holmes leaned toward him and said in a softer voice, “Actually, I find it a bit awkward being the third party to a courting couple. Your presence gives the illusion that we are an amiable foursome. It is far more comfortable.”

“And you shall have someone to converse with instead of remaining completely focused on your daughter’s reputation.” Edward knew very well the concerns parents had for their daughters and pertaining to young men whose intentions might not be exactly honorable.

Lady Davies-Holmes smiled, which brought an entirely new beauty to her already lovely countenance. “That is all too true.” She glanced up at him.

“There is no need to convince me. I have three daughters, so I understand your mind all too well.”

During the next hour or so, Edward, and presumably Frederick, learned a bit more of the ladies. Miss Davies-Holmes belonged to a fine and upstanding family. She had two brothers and a younger sister. Her late father, Sir Elliott Davies-Holmes, had passed away more than five years prior, leaving his son Thomas the baronetcy.

Although not the beauty Edward expected to attract his son, the young lady’s comportment and manner would appeal to a man who admired refinement in a prospective wife. Indeed, her mother, it turned out, was much prettier than her daughter. Could his son truly appreciate a female such as she? That certainly demonstrated signs of maturity. It seemed that Frederick held a new surprise for his father every day.

That evening Edward and Frederick set out for Almack’s. While disembarking the coach, Edward recalled what it was he had wanted to tell his son for most of the day. “I’ve completely forgotten to tell you. I had a letter from Charlotte this morning.”

“Does she say anything interesting?” Frederick said once he’d stepped down to the street.

“She’s on her way to Town, should be here in the next day or two, I imagine.” Edward led the way in through the front door.

Frederick mumbled something not quite audible.

“What was that you said?”

“I said it’s been awhile since I’ve seen her.” A sudden but very slight change overcame Frederick’s demeanor before he began to climb the stairs. The task of facing the petticoat line must have brought about a bit of anxiety.

They arrived at the entrance.

“We are delighted to have you attend, Your Grace.” Lady Castlereagh curtsied to the Duke, greeting him. She then turned an obviously scrutinizing eye toward Frederick. “I am gratified to see your dress is appropriate this evening, my lord.”

“Yes, ma’am. I am glad it meets with your approval.” Frederick took on a distinctively compliant tone, which quickly changed to one that was meant to charm the elder woman. “It distresses me to think about the circumstances of my last visit. Again, I apologize, most sincerely. Must have been half in my cups, I think.”

Why, the Duke wondered, did his son find it necessary to win over the lady so completely? What had Frederick done wrong?

“Must have been…” the Patroness replied, sounding amused instead of annoyed. They shared a smile and a small chuckle at some private joke.

Edward and his son continued past the entrance toward the dancing room.

“What did she mean by that?” Edward murmured.

“There was a bit of a mix-up at my last visit.” He shrugged. “We were at odds concerning time and tunic.”

“You did not dare arrive in trousers after eleven?” The last thing Edward wished for was even the remotest hint of scandal. It would not do when one was looking for a bride.

“Nothing as bad as that, but you know how they are about the rules—wouldn’t think of bending them for anyone.” Frederick scanned the crowd as soon as they met up with the other guests. “Ah, there she is, Miss Shrope. She has promised me a quadrille, and I intend to make certain she remembers her promise to me.”

“Very well, then, off with you.” Edward urged his son with the nod of his head.

“Edward!” Lord Rutherford’s raspy voice called out to him. Trussed up in a shiny waistcoat and a pair of satin breeches that he obviously detested, there would be no cordial discourse with the Viscount this night. He looked to be majorly irritated.

“Walter? You here at Almack’s? This is an impossibility I cannot comprehend.” If Edward recalled correctly, his friend last made his appearance at the assembly rooms in 1796 at his youngest daughter’s come-out.

“Had to attend, you understand. The wife and daughter insisted. Said I had to ‘make an appearance,’ add a bit of respectability”—he pursed his lips, mimicking Lady Rutherford and Mrs. Jeffries—“for little Jane’s sake.”

“That too is understandable.” Edward had complete confidence the ladies knew best when it came to propriety and the steps one must take leading up to matrimony. Gentlemen were simply ill equipped to understand the intricacies regarding such matters.

“Confound it, man! Why must you take their side?” Rutherford added the stomp of his foot to amplify his displeasure of his circumstance.

“My lord Rutherford!” Lady Rutherford’s voice could be heard despite the din in the room.

“
In a moment!
” his lordship returned over his shoulder and sighed heavily, obviously trying to keep his composure.

“I do not side with them, sir. I merely understand their objective and I sympathize with your predicament.” Only last year he had accompanied Muriel to such gatherings. Dancing was not his preferred pastime but now and again one had to do the pretty. “If there is some way I may be of assistance…”

“You’d best serve me by dancing with my granddaughter, I warrant—before Lady R requests me to approach you again
about the matter. Will you do that much for me, sir?” Rutherford grunted, his face turning red with the exertion of the constant battle of his cravat and waistcoat. “And even better if Brent would follow your suit.”

“I would be delighted if there is a safe country dance to be had.” Edward might be mistaken, but it appeared to him the satin monstrosity was attempting to creep up his friend’s torso toward his armpits. “I cannot speak for my son, however. I shall inquire on your behalf.”

“Bless you, dear friend,” were Rutherford’s last words of calm before returning to wrestle with his waistcoat.

“Rutherford! My lord!” his lady wife called to him again.

“I shall be with you presently!” Rutherford boomed over his shoulder, still tugging down at the waistcoat. “Must go. Excuse me, Faraday.” The Viscount stepped away, his gait awkward while he wrestled with his costume. “Blasted thing!”

Edward kept his mirth hidden, and part of him, most of him, felt sorry for his friend, who hated attending the assembly.

“Wretched gloves!” came the Viscount’s cry some moments later.

No soon had the drama of Lord Rutherford’s wardrobe difficulty subsided than a new disturbance, preceded by a young female’s grumbling and heavy, purposeful footstep, made itself known.

“Oh, stuff! Freddie, I can’t believe you can be so monstrous!” Miss Constance Kimball, Edward’s niece, came striding toward him, stopping in time to compose herself and make a graceful curtsy. “You must tell him, Your Grace. You must insist that Freddie dance with me.”

“I’m afraid I cannot do anything of the kind.” Edward had to acknowledge his son was past the age of being ordered about.

“I’ve already stood up with her once,” Frederick soon explained, arriving at the Duke’s side soon after Constance. “If I do so again people will get the wrong idea.”