The Wagered Heart: Signet Regency Romance (InterMix) (10 page)

“So you have. Where on earth was it hiding?”

“In the breakfast room, ma’am.”

“Of course, logical place for it,” the dowager muttered sourly.

Kel smiled at her grousing, but remained silent. Tightening the bow of her stylish bonnet, Alice, the dowager Duchess of Kelbourne, eyed her grandson with keen interest.

“I must say, I never expected you to last this long. Thought you’d have raced off to London days ago.”

“I am finding my stay restful.”

His pronounced urbanity caused her to guffaw.
”Looks like you’re suffering from the blue-devils if you ask me. Care to escort me on my little excursion? It’s a fine day for a walk.”

“My apologies, but no, thank you, Grandmère. I desire to lounge this afternoon.” No offense to his grandmother, but if he was bored now, he could not imagine what he would be feeling if he spent the afternoon with her and her cronies.

With a little shrug, the dowager crossed to the doorway. “You shall suit yourself as usual.” Once in the hall, he heard her call to her maid and footman. “Come, Philips, come, Henry—we cannot keep Lady Farren waiting.”

Long strides carried Kel to the hallway, where he caught up to his grandmother.

“Grandmère, I believe I will join you after all. I shall fetch my hat and be with you in a moment.”

Pausing, his grandmother looked up at him with surprise evident on her thin features. “Certainly, Wenlock, but do hurry.”

A lackey was dispatched to get his hat and silver-tipped walking stick. As they waited, Kel was keenly aware of his grandmother’s discerning gaze upon him.

The moment they left the house, with the maid and footman following behind, the dowager duchess launched into a list of grievances against Kel’s mother.

“Really, Wenlock, the people your mother allows into my house! Witless ninnies and mincing fops.” She tapped her sunshade on the cobbles for emphasis.

“There is a remedy, you know,” was his dry reply.

“Yes! Millicent can leave. Why should I bestir myself from that perfectly charming house? I invited her to stay as my guest—if she does not like how I run my household, she can just take herself off.”

Shrugging his shoulders in a noncommittal fashion, Kel thought again that this situation was the reason
why he had kept a bachelor household for the last ten years. As much as he loved his mother and grandmother, holidays and the occasional visits were more than enough.

“I shall speak to Maman. It should take very little effort to convince her to take another house.”

The dowager stopped dead still on the sidewalk and looked up at her grandson. “Don’t you dare! I would not have Millicent think I have run to you with complaints.”

Adjusting the angle of his hat, Kel looked heavenward for patience.

“Perhaps if you would try to see it from Maman’s perspective, this situation might be more tenable. And I shall speak to her about being more reasonable also.”

“Her perspective! Be more reasonable! Why, you wound me—I am the most reasonable person I know.”

Kel chuckled. “Come, now, Grandmère, it is too fine a day to squabble, and we don’t often have the chance to take a walk together.”

“You are right, let us move to more pleasant subjects.”

“How are you acquainted with Lady Farren?” Kel asked in a deceptively offhand manner.

“Deirdre? Known her for years. One of the most annoying creatures who ever lived. Talks of nothing but that milk-and-water son of hers. But for all that, she can be rather amusing.”

Kel’s pleasure in the outing suddenly dissipated. “I take it we are calling on the
dowager
Lady Farren?”

“Of course. I certainly would not call upon her daughter-in-law, though I would be at home to her if she called upon me.”

Kel sighed. Deeply.

They arrived at the house some minutes later. The
butler led them to a drawing room crowded with overly ornate furniture. Kel immediately took in the others who were seated in the congested room.

A plump, older woman with a profuse amount of unlikely guinea gold hair was obviously the dowager baroness. He recognized Lady Farren and surmised that the blond man seated next to her was her husband. Finally, Kel’s gaze moved to the other occupant of the room.

A lazy smile spread across his features as his eyes briefly met a pair of icy gray eyes. “Good afternoon, Miss Allard.”

Julia’s shock at seeing the duke again was almost as great as it had been at Sydney Gardens. As the butler announced the new guests, she flashed one look to the duke’s tall figure filling the doorway, and then threw a stunned glance to Caro.

At the duke’s greeting, Julia’s voice seemed stuck in her throat. “Good afternoon, Your Grace,” she managed to choke out.

After that, the rest of the introductions were a bit of a blur, but Julia had the impression that the distinguished-looking older woman on the duke’s arm was his grandmother.

Once everyone was seated, and the tea poured and passed, Julia knew she must catch hold of her escalating panic.

For a split second, when he had first walked into the room, she thought she might lose control. She did not know if she wanted to slap him again, or run out of the room. Having grown accustomed to thinking of him as her most hated enemy, it was now difficult to behave as if everything were perfectly normal.

But what else could she do? Causing a scene would not accomplish her desire of exacting some
kind of revenge, and would only reflect badly on Caro.

Without calling attention to herself, she slowly set her teacup on the little rosewood table next to her chair. She did not trust her still shaking fingers not to make a clatter. Linking her hands together, she placed them in her lap, and forced her features into what she hoped was a serene expression.

Why had she not taken the opportunity to tell him exactly what she thought of him when they were at Sydney Gardens?

It vexed her no end that when she finally had the chance to vent a year’s worth of suppressed anger, she had let the opportunity slip through her fingers. Granted, she had been so astonished by his sudden appearance that she had little chance to formulate her thoughts, much less marshal a proper tirade.

Now it seemed that it was too late to rage at him.

She watched him as he conversed with the others in his smooth manner. It seemed to her that the duke, with his air of cool sophistication, did not fit into this cozy scene. She almost rolled her eyes in disgust at the way Lord Farren and his mother fawned and gushed over the duke, who behaved as if it were his due.

Pulling her gaze from him, Julia glanced at his grandmother with curiosity. It was difficult to imagine that a man as vile as the Duke of Kelbourne actually had something as mundane as a grandmother.

The dowager duchess was a formidable-looking woman, with thin, sharp features, whose straight posture and slim figure belied her age. And despite her advanced years, her ensemble was extremely fashionable, but with no hint of mutton dressed as lamb. Julia admired the fineness of the lace at the elegant lady’s neck, and thought the older woman’s
appearance was in flattering contrast to the dowager Lady Farren’s overly fussy and girlish attire.

“Miss Allard, how are you enjoying your stay in Bath?”

It took Julia a moment to respond, she was so taken aback by the dowager duchess’s question. “Very well, Your Grace.”

“You do not find it dull? I would think a pretty gel like you would be in London this time of year.”

Julia exchanged a swift, speaking glance with Caro. She wondered how the duke’s grandmother would react if she informed the imperious-looking duchess exactly why she was not in London. “I prefer to visit with my cousin, Your Grace.”

The dowager Lady Farren recalled the duchess’s attention, and for once, Julia was grateful for the lady’s incessant chatter.

Feeling the duke’s gaze upon her, Julia could not prevent herself from glancing in his direction. The expression on his rugged-angled features and in his eyes could only be described as questioning. Giving no sign of noticing, she turned to attend the general conversation.

“And how do you know our Miss Allard?” the dowager Lady Farren asked the duke.

“We were introduced in Sydney Gardens a few days ago,” he replied, sending Julia an almost conspiratorial smile.

Julia looked away and busied herself with her teacup. How dare he grin at her with such odious condescension! Fervently, she prayed that this second disturbing encounter with the duke would end before she lost control of the anger seething beneath her cool demeanor.

His answer seemed to satisfy Caro’s mother-in-law, and the general conversation continued. But soon,
Julia became aware of the dowager duchess’s frank gaze frequently upon her. In growing nervousness, she wondered what the duchess could be about.

“Miss Allard, I would like to compliment you on your excellent posture.”

Relieved that the duchess had not broached anything more personal, Julia’s smile was natural for the first time since the lady and her grandson had entered the room.

“I thank you, ma’am.”

The dowager nodded approvingly. “Most tall young ladies slouch about, thinking to disguise their height, when it does nothing of the sort. Wenlock, do not you agree with me?”

Her grandson turned from his conversation with Lord Farren and smiled engagingly.

“With what, Grandmère? That Miss Allard has elegant posture? Or slouching does not hide one’s height?”

“Oh, you!” She tapped his knee before addressing the rest of them in tones of obvious affection for her grandson. “Wenlock has always been a great one for teasing and pranks. Forever full of high spirits.”

Oh, indeed
, Julia thought before casting the duke a look of such complete condemnation that it caught his attention.

“Teasing and pranks can often misfire.” The look he gave Julia as he said this was so pointed that she caught her breath in mortification.

Shooting a nervous glance to the duchess and Lady Farren, she prayed that they would not think anything strange about the duke’s remark.

“You are so right, Your Grace,” Caro put in quickly. “My older brother, Roland, was a dreadful prankster when we were children. I used to get so angry at him I would chase him with our papa’s
crop. Thank heavens he has outgrown such nonsense and is now very nice.”

To Julia’s immense relief, the duke’s remark passed without further comment, although Lord Farren did appear amused at his wife’s uncharacteristic babbling.

Furtively casting the duke a quick glance, Julia saw that he was still gazing at her with an assessing expression. Quickly turning away, Julia lifted her chin and determined to ignore him until this wretched tea concluded.

S
 everal nights later, Julia found herself in the midst of a ball taking place in the dowager Lady Farren’s grand house. And it was apparent to all that the bejeweled dowager had spared no expense to impress Bath society.

By London standards, it was not a large affair, but the dowager was pleased to the point of simpering with the number of illustrious personages now dancing in her salon. The room was normally used for card parties and large dinners, but with the furniture and the rugs removed, it served well as a ballroom.

Standing near the large fireplace, its grate aglow with flowers instead of flames, Julia could not help admiring the beautiful room. The dowager certainly had excellent taste. The light from hundreds of candles in the crystal chandelier cast a warm glow across the polished floors. There were numerous tall, freestanding candelabra in the corners of the room, with garlands of ivy, lilies, and tuberoses twining up the stands and secured by yards of gold ribbon.

Inhaling the subtly sweet fragrance of the blooms in the hearth, Julia realized she was having a wonderful time. The excellent orchestra was currently playing a cotillion, and the lilting notes were in perfect
harmony with the heady scent of the flowers and the swaying, vibrant silks of the ladies’ gowns.

She had been discreetly admiring several pairs of dancers throughout the evening. One pair in particular, an older couple, were obviously and unashamedly besotted with each other. The way they gazed into each other’s eyes during the allemande reminded her of her aunt and uncle. Several other couples of varying ages displayed the same charming behavior.

With an appreciative smile playing on her lips, she watched these couples and began to wonder. How did one go about finding a true love? Having never met a man who caused any sort of heightened emotion within her—she dismissed her brief, youthful fancy of Steven Thorncroft—she wondered how it was done.

A few years ago, she had raised the subject with Aunt Beryl and Uncle John, and the consensus seemed to be that one just knew when one met their true love. Her aunt had described in great detail the flutters she had experienced when she first laid eyes upon her beloved John.

Was that it? Did one just hope to chance upon the right person? And when one did, was there some sort of telltale vapors or palpitations?

While growing up, she had also heard that some women were not meant to fall in love. Could she be one of those? It was a disturbing thought. After all, she was four and twenty, and it seemed that if someone were going to engage her heart, it would have happened by now.

Her eyes sought out Mr. Dillingham. He was partnering Lady Drake, and Julia followed his elegant movements for some moments. He was certainly a handsome man—and his manners were exceptional—but nothing about him caused any kind of breathlessness or heart fluttering.

Just then, Caro moved to Julia’s side, interrupting her ponderings. “I have spoken little to you this evening, dear cousin. Let us take a turn around the room and see if we can find a private spot.”

Smiling down, Julia set aside her musings to attend her cousin.

Soon they found a corner where they were partially shielded by a voluminous potted fern balanced on a Corinthian-style pedestal.

“Oh, my dear, you must be fatigued after all the dancing you have done,” Caro said.

“Indeed. I’m glad we found this quiet place before Mr. Gordon can beseech me to dance again,” Julia said, laughing lightly.