The Duke's Mysterious Lady Page 8

  He had planned to put his proposal to her having failed when they were by the lake. He cursed, fervently glad he hadn’t.

  Hugh returned several hours later with Matthew Gayle, to find Viola beating the bedding, which had been airing in the sun.

  A tasty aroma greeted him at the door. She had made a pie with the blackberries the children had picked. The floor was swept, and the children, with pink, scrubbed faces, sat at the table eating soup.

  Matthew examined mother and baby. “The baby has a fever. It’s not good,” he told them out of Mary’s earshot. “It could be lung disease. Let us hope not. They go quickly if that is the case. Mary is quite sick too. I have given them medicine and I’ll come again tomorrow.”

  Hugh avoided looking at Viola. “I’ll account for any costs,” he said. “Whatever is needed, Matthew.”

  ****

  It was growing dark when they rode up to Nanny’s cottage.

  They had hardly spoken since leaving the valley. Viola’s concern for those poor people had not abated, but she regretted her temper. Hadn’t Hugh explained his plans to her? She could think of nothing to say to put it to rights and was still attempting to form a conciliatory sentence when Hugh uttered a curt good evening and rode off.

  Nanny was in the kitchen. “Where on earth have you been?” she asked, as Viola came in dirty and tired. “And what’s happened to your lovely hat?”

  “Oh, Nanny,” said Viola, wiping tears from her eyes, “I’ve been trying to help a family in the valley, but there’s so little I could do for them.”

  She went on to tell Nanny about the events of the day. “And I was rude to the duke. I’m sure he didn’t deserve it.”

  “Vale Park needs a duchess who will take an interest in such things,” said Nanny, “There’s nothing like a woman’s touch. Hopefully, there soon will be. You’ve dealt with the problem well by the sounds of it. Now don’t you go getting yourself too upset. Tomorrow, we’ll take the cart and visit them. I’ll pack one of my chicken pies and preserves from the larder.”

  “Could we?” Viola asked, feeling better. “I seldom go anywhere to wear the glass beads you gave me. Would you mind if I gave them to Mary? And perhaps some pencils and brown paper for the children to draw on?”

  Chapter Eleven

  On the evening of the ball, Nanny clapped her hands, declaring Viola looked ‘a vision’. Madame Sophie had fashioned the white embroidered-silk gown cleverly to show off Viola’s figure. Becky had dressed her hair in a simple up-swept style bound with white ribbon. Nanny’s pearls, a present from the family years ago, graced her throat and ears after Nanny explained that they would not sit well on the high neck of her dress.

  A footman delivered a bouquet for them both along with the barouche to take them to the house. Viola was surprised and touched by the simple beauty of her small posy of violets, tied with green ribbon. Had Hugh forgiven her outburst? She breathed in their sweet perfume, warm with pleasure, even though it was most unwise of him.

  Nanny’s posy was of breathtaking deep pink roses.

  The barouche pulled up in front of the house just as another grand vehicle circled the driveway. Viola had seen the same carriage here some weeks ago. As she climbed the steps to the door with Nanny, three occupants alighted from the carriage, a couple and their daughter.

  Viola squared her shoulders. Whatever happened this night, she would not allow it to hurt her. The young woman hurried to join them in the receiving line of the vast entrance hall, as the footmen took their cloaks.

  Porter announced them, and Viola walked with Nanny into the golden light of a hundred candles. A babble of bright voices rose from the milling crowd.

  The young lady’s pansy-brown eyes sparkled. “We have not been introduced, but I believe I can guess who you are. You are our mysterious ‘Miss Viola’.” Her glossy dark ringlets danced, caught up with a wreath of white flowers, a perfect frame for her pretty, elfin face. Her gown embroidered with rosebuds, was fashionably short, revealing her dainty ankles and beaded slippers.

  Viola took the small, gloved hand she extended, uncomfortable at being the subject of gossip. “I am. Forgive me; I cannot guess who you are quite as accurately.”

  “Lady Felicity, of course,” she replied, looking surprised.

  “Has not Hugh told you about me?”

  “His Grace and I are not on close terms. He has been kind in allowing me to stay with Nanny Bryant, after I lost my memory in an accident.”

  “So it is not a fudge, then?” Felicity gave a tinkling laugh, covering her mouth with her gloved fingers. “I’m sorry, but servants prattle on so. There are no secrets here. Only the constant battle between what the servants can tell you and what you don’t wish the servants to find out!”

  Viola couldn’t help laughing.

  “You really have lost your memory?” Felicity asked, without a trace of concern. “How exciting!”

  Viola wished she could feel as lighthearted, but how could this girl or the duchess understand how it felt to be alone in the world?

  Ahead of them, Hugh greeted the guests with the Duke and Duchess of Whitcombe standing beside him.

  Felicity walked with her, while they slowly advanced down the line. “Hugh explained your presence here, but I must say he failed to mention how pretty you are.”

  There seemed no trace of jealousy behind the young woman’s words. And why would she be? Felicity was enchanting, used to getting everything in life she wanted, and must be very confident of Hugh’s love.

  Viola murmured her thanks at the compliment. She moved forward. Nanny chatted as the duchess bowed her head, the dyed ostrich feathers on her silk turban nodding. What an odd couple they made. Nanny, in her old-fashioned dress, looked like a small russet pullet; the Duchess of Whitcombe towering above her in multi-colored silks reminded Viola of the peacock in the gardens.

  Viola was startled to find herself at Hugh’s side where Lady Felicity had claimed his attention. Viola waited her turn, unsure of her welcome.

  “Well, Felicity, what escapades have you led your long-suffering parents on since I left you in London?” Hugh asked.

  Felicity gazed up at him, her affection softening her eyes. She pouted and rapped him on the arm with her fan. “La, I love London. The theatre, the opera, Carlton House, and all the routs and balls and dances. I’ve been conducting myself in a most becoming manner, Hugh. You’d have been so proud of me. I’ve toured the museums and art galleries with the tedious Mrs. Pike, whom Mamma employed to improve my mind, and I’ve viewed all the exhibitions. Roman, Greek, and Egyptian. I must say I found most of it rather dull, although Mrs. Pike was in whoops. I am now exceedingly cultivated. I shall not need to visit another exhibit for a very long time!”

  Hugh laughed. “You are a most ungrateful young lady. I feel very sorry for Mrs. Pike, whoever she may be. Her lot is a sorry one indeed.”

  Hugh turned to her and bowed. “Allow me to introduce you to Miss Viola.”

  Felicity smiled. “We have already introduced ourselves, have we not, Miss Viola?”

  At that moment, a young man came to beg for the first dance, and Felicity turned to the card at her wrist to fill in his name.

  Viola’s fears eased. Even though they had not parted on friendly terms, Hugh was ever the gentleman. He smiled his easy, slightly teasing smile that made her breath catch in her throat and her heart beat too fast. It was annoying; she had no business feeling this way.

  “It’s good of you to come tonight. My compliments to Madame Sophie. That gown is perfection.”

  He looked devastatingly handsome. His black tailcoat, trousers and white waistcoat embroidered with silver thread were the height of elegance. A diamond cravat pin nestled in the silky folds at his neck. “This is an opportunity to meet someone who might recognize you.”

  Viola bit her lip. “I am grateful for the opportunity, Your Grace.”

  His gaze roamed her face, as if judging the truth of this declaration. “I wonder if you
are.” No doubt, her fear was writ large for him to see. “Viola…,” he began, but the moment was lost with the return of the irrepressible Felicity.

  “Pon rep! Miss Viola looks lovely, does she not, Hugh?” Felicity dimpled up at him. She was impossibly bewitching.

  Hugh’s gaze rested on Felicity. “As do you, my lady. Quite the two most fetching young ladies at the ball. Will you promise me the first waltz of the evening, Felicity? Now that most of London has repaired to the country, we have a large gathering tonight. I see there are many beaus clamoring to fill your card.”

  Felicity smiled. “I kept a waltz for you.”

  “Allow me to escort you into supper later,” he said. “I want to present Miss Viola to some of my other guests.”

  Viola blanched. Was she to suffer the cut direct so early in the evening? Hugh tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow and led her straight to his sister where she sat with her husband and Nanny. He organized a glass of ratafia for her, and left them.

  Viola disliked coming under the duchess’ scrutiny once more, but perhaps it was safer than facing someone new.

  The duchess leaned in her direction, discreetly inquiring of any change in her circumstances. When Viola answered in the negative, the duchess responded by inviting her to afternoon tea the following afternoon, saying she had an idea that may prove helpful. A way to remove her from Vale Park, no doubt. A governess position perhaps, someone Her Grace knew.

  Disheartened that such a prospect didn’t improve her mood, Viola sipped her drink, watching the dancers filling sets for a quadrille. She would not dance; it would only make her more visible. The ballroom was very crowded, but some guests did stare at her with curiosity, no doubt wondering who she was.

  After sitting out two more dances, Hugh came to her side with two of his friends in tow. The elegant young men bowed, and requested a dance. Hugh implored her to accept, as they were ne’er-do-wells that few young ladies would take pity on. So obviously untrue it drew a laugh from those around them. To refuse now would make Viola stand out even more. She accepted Lord Hampton who boldly stated that his more advanced age—which couldn’t have been much above two-and-twenty, was two years senior to Mr. Fairford, and gave him a superior claim.

  Viola then danced every dance, pleased to discover the country-dances and the quadrille’s intricate steps came to her from somewhere in her memory. She’d cast off her concerns and was quite enjoying herself, but took an instant dislike to Mr. Harrington who studied her as one might a painting or a statue.

  After he made several unkind comments about a lady in purple and a plump gentleman in satin knee breeches, she was relieved when the dance ended.

  Although the prospect of waltzing greatly appealed, she would declare a blister on her heel if she were asked. When the orchestra struck up in waltz-time, Hugh partnered Felicity. What an attractive couple they made, laughing together with the ease of long friendship. As she expected, he was an accomplished dancer, and Felicity graceful in his arms. When the dance ended, a young man immediately claimed Felicity for the next. Hugh, who had not approached her all evening, made his way to her side. She tensed, wishing he wouldn’t, for she was alone. Nanny was visiting the ladies’ retiring room.

  “You are enjoying the evening?” he asked. She fiddled with her fan, finding it hard to meet his gaze.

  “Prodigiously, thank you.”

  She peeked at him and was surprised to find amusement in his eyes. Was she so easy to read?

  “Not too hot? Shall I fetch you a cool glass of lemonade?”

  “Oh, no.” She held up her hands and laughed.

  “Lord Hampton and Mr. Fairford have been most attentive.”

  He took the chair beside her. Viola was immediately aware of the murmuring behind fans, and the glances settling on her around the ballroom. Her chin trembled as she fought to appear unconcerned.

  If Hugh was aware of it, he chose to ignore it. “I gather no one has recognized you. Nothing jogs your memory?”

  “I’m afraid not.”

  “Matthew tells me Mary Rigby's baby is much improved.”

  Viola bit her lip. The angry words she’d spoken made her rigid with mortification. “Your Grace,” she began, “I must apologize...”

  “If it’s about Mary and the baby, then please don’t.”

  “But I feel I must. I was unfair.”

  “No. I was remiss. You and Nanny visit them often I’m informed. I plead the ignorance of a man. We are not blessed with womanly ways which are needed in matters such as this.” The music died away and couples left the floor. “The next waltz is mine,” Hugh said. Something she saw in his eyes made her refusal die on her lips. Still, she tried to make him see sense.

  “If I dance with you everyone shall remark on it. Might that not upset Lady Felicity?”

  He frowned. Was it indiscreet of her to mention his coming nuptials? “Nonsense. One dance is perfectly proper. Lady Felicity has had many partners tonight, as have I. One does at these affairs. Perhaps you’ve not been much in society.”

  He was cross with her.

  “I have no idea whether I have or not,” she said.

  “Of course, I’m sorry.”

  But the waltz was so intimate a dance. “Your Grace,” she murmured, appealing to him with her eyes. “Not the waltz. A country dance or a quadrille, I beg you.”

  He shook his head with a smile. She did sound prim. She doubted she’d ever been prim, although she wasn’t entirely sure.

  She wanted very much to dance with him. Should she grasp the moment? The chance was unlikely to come again.

  The musicians struck the first notes. Hugh rose and held out his hand to her. She took a deep breath and allowed him to lead her onto the floor.

  When he placed an arm around her waist, it felt like everyone’s gaze in the ballroom burned into her back.

  “I was right about the violets,” he said, his voice a bare whisper above the music. Her pulse raced as she breathed in his sandalwood soap, his big hand held hers, the other warm against the small of her back.

  “The violets?” she repeated, her attention on quelling her trembling, certain he would notice.

  “The nosegay matches your eyes.”

  It was a reckless, flirtatious comment. She refused to acknowledge it, instead, searched the faces of the couples dancing near them. What if he were overheard? She wanted to scold him, but when she did look up, the light smoldering in his brown eyes drove the impulse from her and flooded her body with warmth.

  She refused to look into his eyes again, and focused on his strong chin. They glided around the floor, and miraculously, her nervousness fell away, to be replaced by a sense of elation. She learned something more about herself. She loved to dance. As the uplifting music flowed over her, she found her rhythm; his legs brushed her skirts as he turned her. Over his shoulder, their reflections swirled in the gilt mirrors around the walls. Hugh led and she followed. Their images seemed to blur into one.

  They whirled around until her breath came in gasps more from exhilaration than exertion. When she finally allowed herself a peep at him, his gaze held hers. She couldn’t read his expression, or perhaps she was afraid to, so she closed her eyes, feeling as if she could float away from her earth-bound worries, to some magical place where nothing mattered.

  The dance concluded, the intimacy she sensed between them vanished. His formal self again, Hugh escorted her back to her chair, bowed and left her.

  Feeling brittle, Viola smiled at Nanny as if she hadn’t a care in the world. What was the good of wanting what she could never have? It was foolish, and her inability to prevent her feelings for this man consuming her waking hours made her angry with herself.

  Felicity had placed her gloved hand on Hugh’s arm and walked with him into the supper room.

  Lord Hampton bowed at her side. “Allow me to escort you into supper.” Viola rose and took his arm, but her mind remained on the couple ahead. Surely, their engagement would soon be an
nounced, for she knew of no reason to delay it. And once it was, she must leave.

  ****

  Long past midnight, the musicians played their last piece. Hugh stood watching the couples on the floor. Viola danced with Freddie Hampton, laughing at a comment he made. Young pup!

  Hampton was getting a little too familiar, but there was no harm in him, and Viola handled him well.

  Douglas Harrington came to stand beside him, leaning against the doorway. Hugh had an easy friendship with Douglas that began at Oxford. Douglas was similar in height to himself, his hair sandy his hazel eyes sharp, with a sardonic expression. Known for his biting wit, Douglas’ speech was often laden with a heavy dose of sarcasm, designed to wound any hapless person who annoyed him. He did it with flair that few could match, which made him a favorite of the prince regent.

  Douglas’ eyes rested on Viola. “She’s a fine looking filly, is she not? She has an air of innocence, but there is something intriguing beneath the surface. I’d like to discover more. She has a lovely mouth. I’m tempted to pursue her.”

  “To become a tenant for life?” Hugh asked his shoulders tense.

  Douglas’ sandy brows rose. “Are you mad, Vale? You know Father would never allow it. He’d disinherit me. We must marry our kind. It’s written in our blood!” He turned back to the dance floor. “Still, she’s in a vulnerable position, isn’t she? I could help her with that.”

  “You do and I’ll have you out!” Hugh’s fiery reaction surprised them both.