The Duke's Defiant Debutante Read online

  "Nothing of note," sighed Mr Stirling. "She visited a friend in the afternoon, I think. One of those young London Misses."

  "Have you a name?"

  "Is it important?"

  "Every detail is important."

  Edward strode over to the drinks cabinet and poured his host a stiff measure of whisky.

  "Here. Calm your nerves. Then tell me all you can."

  Mr Stirling drained the glass in one gulp. "I cannot remember. Wait – no – yes! A Miss Drake. Does the name mean anything to you?"

  "I cannot say that it does." Edward gritted his teeth, battling the frustration which threatened to overwhelm him. He understood the threat to Angelica's reputation if they were to make her mistake public, of course – but what would that debutante's reputation matter once she was his Duchess?

  Assuming she would ever be his Duchess at all.

  "Has Miss Stirling been questioned?"

  "Lily is in bed, and I do not dare press her. Though I must say that her mother is in just as weak a state as she is. The shock – and when I tell her that Angelica is not with you, the terror – it is too much to bear!"

  "Angelica would not abandon her sister," said Edward. "Miss Stirling must know where she has gone."

  "If she does, she has sworn not to tell us."

  "At least, then, we know that Angelica is not in immediate danger. Miss Stirling would not allow her sister to come to harm." Edward made up his mind. "I will question this Miss Drake. I would be grateful if you could furnish me with an address – your coachman must know the house."

  "Certainly, certainly!"

  "I will rely on Miss Stirling's judgement long enough to give Angelica a day," said Edward. "And once a day has passed, no consideration of gossip or reputation will stop me from hunting her down and bringing her safely home."

  "I am quite of your opinion, Your Grace."

  Every nerve in Edward's body was twanging, alive, alert: ready to jump into action. The thought of waiting while Angelica was goodness-knew-where was almost too much for him.

  What had driven her away? Was she longing for him to chase after her, or would she run from him if they were to see each other again?

  Edward found his mind shrinking back from those questions. He was too afraid that he already knew the answers.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The mail coach rattled to a halt. Angelica did not think she had ever been on such a bumpy journey, not that she would give Kitty the satisfaction of admitting it. Her lady's maid had done nothing but complain the whole way from London.

  But she had not refused to come, and she had not breathed a word of Angelica's identity to anyone. She might not be very cheerful, but she was loyal.

  "Loxwell Park!" called the driver.

  "Oh, thank goodness," said Angelica. She took a single step out of the carriage and immediately sank to her ankle in mud. Kitty gave a shriek of dismay. It took some wrestling on the part of both girls to haul Angelica's foot out again. "Well, no-one can deny that we're in the countryside now!"

  "We're in the middle of nowhere," Kitty moaned. "Liable to be carried off by highwaymen and bandits!"

  "Nonsense," said Angelica, helping her with the small valise that contained both of their essential belongings. "Look over there, Kitty. What could be more civilised than that?"

  She flung out an arm to indicate the stately drive of Loxwell House.

  Truth be told, it was less of a house than a castle. Even Kitty found it in herself to gasp. The setting sun threw shades of amber and red across the huge Grecian columns which decorated the building's impressive front. They could not even see the entire house, close as they were, through the ancient fir trees which lined the drive, but nothing could take away from its impression of size, majesty, and ancient wealth.

  "Oh, Miss," Kitty murmured, sounding nervous. "It's such a fine place."

  Angelica wondered briefly whether Redhaven Castle was on a similar scale. "No need to worry," she said briskly. "Lady Cecily grew up here, and she is not at all intimidating. I'm sure her father will be just as kind as she is."

  "What about the other servants, Miss? Will they look down upon me? I dare say I'm not half as fancy as them."

  "If anyone gives you any trouble, I shall have Cecily take care of it immediately," said Angelica, with more confidence than she felt. "Now, then – off we go."

  They had made it only partway towards the house when a small, white-clothed figure appeared at the top of the great steps and began to run towards them. Before Angelica knew it, Cecily's arms were around her neck.

  "Angelica! It is you! What a dream! An absolute dream!"

  "Cecily!" Angelica was more grateful than she could say that her friend was the first person she encountered at Loxwell Park. "How did you know I was coming?"

  "I have always run to the window to watch visitors arrive, ever since I was a little girl. You have no idea how utterly boring the countryside can be! And so today I ran to the window as I always do – and only imagine my delight on finding my dear friend from London at my door!"

  "And what a door it is," said Angelica, glancing with trepidation towards the fine house. Cecily laughed and waved away Angelica's concerns.

  "You need not fret, for we are quite informal within those walls. Though I know you are now entirely at ease conversing with Dukes – seducing them too, I dare say!" A shadow of concern crossed Cecily's face. "Oh, please ignore me! I am always putting my foot in it. I can see that I have touched on a delicate subject. My dearest Angelica, you have not yet told me why you are here, and if you do not wish it, I will not ask you."

  "I will tell you everything in due time," Angelica promised. "For the moment, Cecily, I am putting myself entirely in your power. My parents do not know I am here. My fiancé does not know I am here. I just – the wedding was so close, and I saw no other way to escape – and so, here I am!"

  "My poor darling!" Cecily put her arms around Angelica and began to lead her towards the house. "Is he really so awful as all that?"

  Angelica's throat grew hot and tight. Surely, she could not be about to cry? The thought was too embarrassing!

  And yet...

  "It is because he is not awful that I cannot marry him," she whispered. "I do not know what is true and what is not anymore. And – oh, Cecily – the way I had begun to feel about him!"

  "Hush, hush," said Cecily. "We will get you inside and feed you up with tea and biscuits until you are yourself again. You need not worry about what Papa will think. I know how to handle him." They had reached the imposing doorway of Loxwell Park, which Cecily had left half-open. "Mrs Clarke!" she called imperiously, once they were inside the high-ceilinged hallway. She turned to a footman. "Would you please fetch Mrs Clarke for me at once? We have a guest, and she and her maid will need rooms and a hot meal." She gave Kitty a beaming smile. "You have done very well to bring your mistress here in one piece."

  "Oh, I would not have been able to do without Kitty," said Angelica, though in fact she had spent a great deal of energy comforting and cajoling her maid as they hopped from one mail coach to another in parts of the country they had never seen before.

  Mrs Clarke turned out to be a much more pleasant, homely woman than the fine and fancy snob Kitty had feared, and she quickly took the girl under her wing and bustled off to prepare rooms and refreshments. Angelica found herself sitting on a velveteen sofa with a cup of tea in her hand and a plate of sandwiches in front of her before she knew it.

  Angelica would have descended on the sandwiches with ravenous hunger had it not been for the tall and rather aloof-looking girl dressed all in black, who sat at the pianoforte and watched her with astonishment.

  "Jemima, you must meet Miss Angelica Stirling, who will be staying with us for some time," said Cecily. "Angelica, this is Lady Jemima Stanhope, my father's ward. She is like a sister to me – I promise you may trust her with anything."

  Angelica curtsied, but, to her surprise, Lady Jemima stuck out a hand at
the end of a rather skinny arm and shook hers with masculine enthusiasm.

  "Pleasure to meet you, Miss Stirling." She glanced towards Cecily curiously. "Ceci kept awfully quiet about you coming."

  "That's because we didn't know," said Cecily, and glanced at Angelica for permission to continue. "Angelica is escaping an unpleasant situation in London. We must work together to come up with some reason to convince Papa to let her stay."

  "That'll be simple enough," Jemima shrugged. "Have you met the old Duke, Miss Stirling? You'll never find a more forgetful man. If we both insist that he gave his permission for the visit last Friday, Ceci, he'll come to believe it himself."

  "But what about Mama?"

  "Let's tackle the Duke first, and once we've convinced him it was his own idea for Miss Stirling to stay with us, your Mama will have to agree with him."

  "Papa can be very stubborn once he's set his mind on things," laughed Cecily.

  Jemima dropped her folder of music back onto the pianoforte with a splat. "I'll go and begin working on him straight away."

  "Isn't she a gem?" asked Cecily, once Jemima had embarked on her mission. "It's such a shame you weren't able to meet her in London. Jemima is in mourning, you see. It's so terribly sad... but I won't go into it now. You have your own problems to worry about!" She sat down beside Angelica and took hold of her hands. "I won't say tell me everything, because you may wish to keep your secrets to yourself. But if there is anything I can do to unburden you, Angelica, I am here and ready."

  It took only a few seconds for Angelica's tongue to loosen. She poured out her whole heart to Cecily. With a pang of guilt, she realised that she was telling her friend more of her deepest feelings than she had even told Lily. But the journey had been a difficult one, though uneventful, and she had spent the whole time feeling like a stoppered bottle of lemonade, fizzing more and more urgently until it was all she could do not to explode.

  She even took the letter from her reticule and let Cecily read it in all its cold-hearted glory.

  Cecily twiddled a long brown strand of hair around one gloved finger and let her forehead furrow with ungenteel disgust as she read it. "You were absolutely right to run," she said, when she had finished. "Only imagine if you had actually married him!"

  "But the most perplexing part is that he had begun to be so warm to me," sighed Angelica. "Mr Thorne told me he was capable of lying in that way, of playing the part of kindness, but it was so...convincing. It all felt so real." She pressed a hand to her heart. "It still does."

  "I cannot help but think that you have made a very lucky escape," said Cecily, passing her back the letter. "Jemima and I will do everything we can to keep your presence here a secret until you have decided what to do."

  At that moment, they were interrupted by a harrumphing cough from a man who resembled nothing so much as an ancient oak tree someone had dressed up in breeches and a fine jacket, so tall, grizzled, and strong did he appear despite his age.

  "Cecily! What's the meaning of this?" he demanded. Cecily jumped to her feet, looking guilty. Lady Jemima slipped into the room behind the old man.

  "Papa," Cecily began, "let me introduce my guest –"

  "Miss Rebecca Smith," interrupted the Duke, taking Angelica's hand and planting a bristling kiss on it. "Jemima has just now reminded me of your visit. A thousand apologies, Miss Smith! My daughter knows my memory is not what it was. If she had reminded me, I would have had things much better prepared for your arrival."

  "Nonsense, Papa," sniffed Cecily. "I am quite capable of organising everything myself. I have asked Mrs Clarke to put, um, Rebecca in the yellow room in the east wing."

  "Very good, very good." The Duke bowed to Angelica again. "You will find it very comfortable, and if you do not, you must tell me at once! Now, I must trouble you for your father's address, Miss Smith. I will write to him directly to let him know of your safe arrival."

  "I have the address here, Your Grace," said Jemima smoothly. "Come, I will sit and read in your study while you write it, and when you are finished, I will put it with my letters to take to the post office tomorrow. I am dying to walk out to the village tomorrow morning."

  "Young Jemima handles all my correspondence," said the old Duke with a wink. "What I did before she came, I can't bear to think! I must have made a dreadful mess of everything."

  "Don't be so hard on yourself, Your Grace," smiled Jemima, taking his arm. "Now, Miss Smith must be tired after her journey."

  "Quite so, quite so. Leave the letter to me, Miss Smith. I daresay you'll want to write to your parents yourself. Well, Cecily will see that you have ample writing material. Yes, yes, Jemima. I haven't forgotten what we're about."

  "He is a dear old thing," said Cecily warmly, when Jemima had led the Duke of Loxwell away. "Quite as tame as a kitten. It's a wonder I wasn't spoiled rotten as a child – I don't remember him ever saying no to anything! You see what I mean now, about how perfectly domestic and pleasant we are here?"

  "You have a lovely home," said Angelica. "I must admit, I never thought a Duke's household could be so..."

  "Cosy?" laughed Cecily. "Oh, but that's just the way Papa is! He has never been one for fine airs or pride. It is perfectly possible to be a gentleman without them."

  Angelica sighed and rested back against the cushions. "I am really beginning to feel that I am finally safe."

  "Nothing can reach you here," Cecily assured her. "If I were you, I would forget all about London and that other Duke – who we shall not name – and give yourself up to having a wonderful holiday here in Loxwell!"

  Angelica only wished that she were able to forget Edward completely. Cecily's kindness and Jemima's cunning should have worked wonders on her sense of security, but nothing could fully erase her doubts and fears from her mind.

  What was Edward doing now? Had he discovered she was missing? Would he try to find her?

  Or would he simply give her up as a bad match and turn his attentions to someone more like the silent and submissive wife he desired?

  Angelica did not know whether she wanted him to look for her or not. She did not understand the flutters that rose in her chest at the thought of him. Edward was pleasure, Edward was pain, Edward was everything in between.

  She was starting to be afraid that it was already too late for her. He did not deserve her, barely even wanted her, and she was already more than half in love.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Edward wasted no time in paying a call to the mysterious Miss Drake. He was extremely surprised, on arriving at the address Mr Stirling had given him, to find himself shown in with great enthusiasm and directed to the dining room.

  "They are just sitting down to breakfast!" exclaimed the butler, who was all beaming smiles.

  Edward frowned. A household who breakfasted this late in the day was not one to his tastes at all. He began to expect that he would find nothing more in Miss Drake than a flighty, frivolous young Miss with a penchant for frills and an empty head.

  As it happened, he was on all counts absolutely wrong.

  The footman at the door to the dining room took his name with what Edward thought was an improper touch of surprise. The noise which emanated from the room was much greater and more raucous than a simple breakfast ought to produce, but the moment the Duke of Redhaven was announced, a painful hush descended.

  Edward was still not accustomed to this evidence of his fearful reputation. It seemed there was no corner of London where his name was welcome.

  The moment he entered the room, however, understanding dawned.

  He was not interrupting breakfast. He was interrupting the wedding breakfast.

  The wedding breakfast of none other than his cousin, Reginald Thorne. The scoundrel who had beaten a manservant to within an inch of his life, the blackguard who lived beyond his means and came begging his wealthier relations for money on a regular basis, and the fraudster who had cheated his way through every card table in England.

  "Edward!"
cried Reginald, half-mangling the name in his shock. "What are you doing here?"

  "You will address me as Your Grace," said Edward coldly. "We are not children any more, Mr Thorne. There is no need for us to pretend to be friends."

  Reginald's paramour was a sharp-faced young woman with a rather feline smile. Her parents were hosting the wedding celebration – naturally. Edward doubted Reginald had the funds for a wedding.

  The sharp-faced woman laid a hand on Reginald's arm. "My love," she murmured, "I think we already know what brings your cousin here, do we not?"

  Edward was beginning to suspect that he would now be able to uncover the mystery of Angelica's departure without too much effort. "What did you do to her?" he demanded, striding forwards until only the decorated table stood between him and his cousin. The assembled company gasped in horror quite satisfactorily. For once, Edward relished his reputation as a murderer. "If you have harmed a hair on her head –"

  Reginald gulped, Adam's apple bobbing. "I told her the truth... Your Grace."

  "What truth?" Edward growled. Reginald took a step back. His wife, still smiling in that disconcertingly catlike way, moved in front of him.

  "My, my," she purred. "Can it be true? Is it more than injured pride that moves you, Your Grace?" She laughed a tinkling laugh and pressed a hand to her lips. "I can hardly believe it! And, Reginald, to think you told me your cousin was cold-hearted!"

  "He is the worst man in England," Reginald protested.

  "But he is in love," smirked the bride – Miss Drake, Edward could only presume. "Look at his face! It's all quite plain. Oh, dear." She laughed again. "Oh, my."

  "Valentina, my dear, let us talk about this privately," said Reginald, eyeing Edward nervously.

  "Why on earth should we do that?" asked Valentina, dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief. "Don't you want our guests to join the fun? This is the man whose loneliness will make me Duchess of Redhaven, after all."

  A smug smile broke out over Reginald's face. It was all Edward could do not to punch it.