The Duke's Defiant Debutante Page 4

  "I am sorry to hear of your sister's ill health," said the Duke gravely. He looked about the room again, as though expecting a chaperone to appear from the woodwork. "Your father?"

  "Out of the house on business, Your Grace." Angelica wished the Duke would sit down, but she had no idea how to properly invite him. She began to wish she had paid more attention to her mother's lessons on etiquette.

  "Business," the Duke repeated. Angelica bit her lip. She knew, or at least strongly suspected, that the Duke had just remembered that her father's fortune came from trade. "Our fathers were friends, you know. My father based his friendships on merit, rather than rank. He was an egalitarian."

  "That is admirable," said Angelica.

  "It made life very difficult for me as a young man. Society did not approve of a Duke who mingled with..."

  "With what? The lower classes?"

  The Duke gave an elegant shrug. "Your words, Miss Stirling. But your father is a gentleman as well as a businessman. I find his success...admirable. Yes. Admirable." He nodded. "A good word."

  "Then we have established that both of our fathers were admirable men," said Angelica, taking the opportunity to sit back down on the sofa whether it was polite or not. The Duke did not seem to notice. He had begun to pace up and down the room, running his eyes over the heavy mahogany furniture without really seeming to see it. Angelica supposed his own home must be full of such very fine things that her family's décor was wholly unremarkable.

  "I must admit that I had thought to speak to your father first, but the opportunity of finding you alone seems too fortuitous to pass up," said the Duke. He stopped and cast her a stern look. "Not that I believe in fate, mind you. I am a firm proponent of the notion that every man must steer his own course. Discover his own destiny. With that in mind..."

  To Angelica's astonishment, he stepped forwards and seized her hand.

  She was no expert, but she was absolutely certain that morning calls did not typically involve physical contact of any kind.

  If only his eyes hadn't been so dratted green, she would have jerked her hand away immediately. As it was, she was near-mesmerised, and far too shocked to move.

  "Miss Stirling," said the Duke, "I have come to ask you for the honour of your hand in marriage."

  "My what?"

  He raised an eyebrow. "I do not see that I left anything unclear, Miss Stirling. I wish to take you as my wife."

  Angelica snatched her hand back and rubbed it with the other as if he'd stung her. "Absolutely not!"

  Now both of the Duke's black eyebrows were soaring up into his forehead. "Excuse me, Miss Stirling, you appear to be confused. I have just made you an offer of marriage."

  Angelica got to her feet. The nerve of the man! To propose once in such a manner was cheek enough, but three times in a row? It was simply unbearable!

  "You are quite excused, Your Grace. You see, I have just refused you."

  Chapter Six

  The last word a Duke was used to hearing was no.

  Edward took a moment to let Angelica's refusal settle in his mind. For the first time, he looked at the young woman who stood before him.

  And looked.

  And looked.

  The girl he'd taken for a quiet, submissive society Miss was glaring directly into his eyes with enough venom to blind him. Admittedly, she was glaring from somewhere down at chest level, but somehow that took none of the force from her gaze.

  What had gone wrong? She hadn't managed a single word the night before beyond Thank you, Your Grace and I would be delighted.

  Either phrase would have been more than sufficient to accept his proposal.

  Instead, she was...refusing him? Turning him down?

  Edward felt the sudden desire to find a mirror and check that the head atop his shoulders was really his own. Was he still a Duke? And Angelica Stirling still a young heiress to a trade fortune?

  What possible objection could she hold to the match?

  "Am I, at least, to receive the honour of a reason for your rudeness?" he asked, unable to keep the sarcasm from dripping through his tones. Angelica did not even flinch.

  "I do not find it at all rude to refuse an ill-put proposal from a gentleman I have barely exchanged five words with. Your Grace, I cannot even remember your first name!"

  "Edward," he said, though there were numerous choice remarks fighting to be spoken. "My name is Edward Thorne. It is written on my calling card."

  "Ah! And I suppose, now that you have reminded me what you are called, you expect me to marry you?"

  Edward had begun to realise the magnitude of the mistake he had just made. Angelica Stirling fit none of the criteria he had for his future bride. In fact, she was the exact opposite of all of them.

  Excepting, of course, the Earl of Lathkill's contribution. Tolerably attractive, he'd said. For all her fire-spitting stubbornness – perhaps even because of it – Angelica was certainly an attractive girl. She was as small as a doll, and just as perfectly formed, but boasted a woman's soft figure. The picture was completed by a charming upturned nose in a heart-shaped face, a shining mass of neatly-coiled blonde hair, and a mouth which Edward could not deny was alluring. Regardless of the words which came out of it.

  He gave himself a shake. Honestly. To actually form an attraction to the girl who was refusing his hand in marriage – was there anything more humiliating?

  "I can see that I have made a most serious mistake," he said, folding his arms. "You are not at all the right sort of woman to become Duchess of Redhaven. I bid you good day, Miss Stirling."

  He bowed and made a departure as swift as dignity allowed, leaving Angelica stunned behind him. On his way out of the house, he surprised Mr Stirling taking off his coat.

  "Good day," he said, not wishing to spend any more time in the Stirling household than he could manage. He tipped his hat to Mr Stirling and hurried out of the door before the gentleman could return his greeting.

  His carriage was still waiting on the street. The Stirling family's address – a very respectable part of Mayfair – spoke to the wealth Mr Stirling must have amassed over his career. Perhaps it was that which had given his daughter the nerve to reject a Duke's proposal.

  Edward let out a snort of laughter as he settled back into the carriage. To think that, for a moment, he'd actually been disappointed! It was clear that he'd just escaped a very imprudent match.

  "Your Grace!"

  The carriage was just lurching forwards when Mr Stirling's hand caught hold of the open window. Red-faced and panting, the rotund little man heaved himself up onto the outer step and clung on for dear life as Edward's team of glossy black horses began to trot.

  "Your Grace, please! A moment of your time!"

  Edward rapped on the carriage ceiling – the signal to stop. He did not open the door, but regarded Mr Stirling with as frosty an expression as he could muster. The older man blanched rather satisfyingly before him.

  "Do excuse me, Your Grace, I am sure there has been some misunderstanding, but –"

  "Out with it," snapped Edward. The last thing he wanted was to endure pleasantries from the man whose daughter had just rejected him. "I am about to go on my way."

  "Of course. Of course." Mr Stirling slipped down onto the ground and leaned against the carriage door to catch his breath. "Your Grace, am I mistaken in thinking that you have just made my daughter an offer?"

  This was intolerable. "You are not mistaken," said Edward curtly. "That offer, however, no longer stands."

  "Your Grace!"

  "Miss Stirling has made her feelings perfectly clear. I am not of a mind to marry a woman against her will. Driver?"

  "Your Grace, please!"

  Edward reluctantly signalled again for the driver to stop. "I am a busy man, Mr Stirling."

  "Think of the damage to Angelica's reputation!"

  Edward raised an eyebrow. "I have done nothing to sully her reputation, and I resent the implication, sir!"

  "
Begging your pardon, Your Grace, but you certainly have. You put my daughter in a very difficult position. Why, she hardly knows you! Naturally there was some...feminine hesitation when she received your proposal so suddenly."

  Edward gave a grunt of disbelief. He had seen nothing of feminine hesitation in Angelica. Quite the opposite, in fact. "What's your point, Stirling?"

  "The point is that Angelica cannot become known as the girl who turned down a Duke, Your Grace." Stirling was wringing his hands in front of him as he spoke. Edward felt disdain curling in his stomach at the sight. He had become used to obsequiousness the moment he inherited his dukedom, of course, but it did not mean it disgusted him any less.

  "I am sorry to say that Miss Stirling is the girl who turned down a Duke, sir. Whether that damages her reputation is not my concern."

  "But it should very much concern you!" Stirling snapped, suddenly morphing from a pleading old fool into a stern patriarch. Edward realised he had not been giving the man enough credit. Some Dukes, no doubt – his own father, perhaps – would have enjoyed the piteous entreaty. The moment it became apparent that Edward detested it, Stirling had changed his tune. "You placed intolerable pressure on my daughter without any invitation on her part. Now, she runs the risk of being thought snobbish and ungrateful by all the ton! What gentleman will propose to her now, knowing that she thought herself too good for a Duke?"

  "I highly doubt that Miss Stirling thinks herself too good for me."

  "But that is what people will think!" Stirling slammed his clenched fist into the side of the carriage. Edward watched impassively.

  "Well, Stirling, I feel for you and your daughter. But I do not know what you expect me to do about it."

  Stirling sighed. "Come inside and discuss my daughter's dowry."

  "Miss Stirling made it quite clear that there was not to be any hope –"

  "Forgive the interruption, Your Grace, but I am Angelica's father. She has confidence beyond her years, I know, but she is not yet of age. She does not know what is good for her. Believe me, by the end of the day, she will certainly see."

  "It is that very overconfidence which has led me to reconsider my offer."

  "And I am telling you, Your Grace, that only a rogue would rescind it."

  Edward groaned. In truth, he had no idea whether Stirling was telling him the truth, or simply spinning him a tale in order to secure a Duke for Angelica's husband.

  Could he, in all good conscience, abandon Angelica to a life ruined by rumour and social condemnation? He of all people knew how painful that would be.

  "You have my word, Stirling, that I will not breathe a word of Angelica's refusal. Her reputation is safe with me. I bear her no ill will."

  "If that were really true, Your Grace, you would come back inside and discuss her dowry." Mr Stirling's bushy eyebrows knit together. "Forgive my impertinence, but I do not believe you completely understand the situation in which you find yourself. It seems you are in need of a wife, Your Grace, and I do not think you will find it easy to find one."

  "Ridiculous. I am a Duke. There are few men in England more eligible than I am."

  "There are still fewer with a worse reputation. What father in his right mind would allow his daughter to wed the notorious Duke of Redhaven?" Mr Stirling waved off Edward's protests. "I make no assumptions as to the truth in the rumours which surround you, Your Grace. I am only telling you what society thinks. But you have been fortunate. You have chosen my daughter. I was a friend to your father, the old Duke, and I know he did not raise a monster. If you still want it, you may have my daughter's hand. I doubt you will receive such a welcome in many other quarters."

  "What are you getting out of all this, Stirling?" asked Edward bitterly. "If you really thought there was the faintest hint of reality in the rumours, you would keep your daughter locked away from me – and rightfully so. What's it to you if I marry her or not?"

  "I am a businessman," said Mr Stirling simply. "And this seems to me a good trade. A wife for you – a title for my daughter. No other Duke in the country would so much as glance in Angelica's direction. And it improves the chances of her older sister immensely. My Lily, you know, has suffered ill health, and as a result..." He spread his arms, shrugging. "I believe we will both benefit from this match. And I was speaking the truth when I told you that only a rogue would rescind his offer."

  Edward's fingers toyed irritably with his silver watch. "You truly believe I will struggle to find another match? Is my reputation really so poor, after all these years?"

  "I am sorry, Your Grace, but in your father's name, I am speaking the truth. Your long absence from London has done little to clear your name."

  "Very well," said Edward, recalling, despite himself, the touch of fire in Angelica's eyes. "Let's go inside and see if we can come to an arrangement."

  "Angelica will be delighted," Mr Stirling promised him, stepping aside to let Edward out of the carriage.

  Edward very much doubted that delight would be Angelica's first reaction. Still, it mattered little. He had made his decision. A business transaction between gentlemen, just as he'd envisaged it.

  Angelica Stirling would be his Duchess.

  Chapter Seven

  "But I don't want to go to the theatre!" Angelica gasped, as Kitty fastened the buttons on yet another elegant evening dress. To think she'd spent so much time choosing the wardrobe for her first London Season, and it was all shortly going to be wasted on the provincial townspeople of wherever-on-earth Redhaven Castle might be.

  "No, my darling, you do want to go," her mother corrected her smoothly. "A little tighter at the waist, Kitty. Have you a pin?" She turned back to Angelica. "It is the perfect opportunity for you to get to know your fiancé."

  "That man is not my fiancé!"

  "Your father has spoken, Angelica." Mrs Stirling sighed. "Lily, please say something. I don't know how to get through to your sister anymore."

  Lily gently pushed Kitty aside and took over pinning Angelica's skirt. "You look like a princess," she said quietly. "Everyone will be looking at you tonight, Angelica. You'll be the centre of attention."

  "Only because Papa has agreed to marry me off to a murderous rogue!" Angelica had not been able to get any more details about her future husband's reputation than that. He was a recluse, a rogue, and he had – possibly – killed somebody. The rest was not suitable for a young lady's delicate ears. Even the servants could not be persuaded to tell what they knew.

  Angelica thought it was all most unfair. Her delicate ears, after all, were being sold off for the sake of said murderer's title. Why shouldn't they hear the worst?

  "What will I talk to him about?" Angelica asked, sinking her head onto Lily's shoulder. Lily stroked her hair, careful not to muss it.

  "Talk about whatever you please. Find out what books he reads. Ask him which plays he has seen. What is his favourite play by Shakespeare? You will soon be chatting away like old friends."

  "I can give him my opinion of Hamlet," said Angelica, brightening.

  "That would be most unwise," interrupted Mrs Stirling. "I doubt the subject matter of Hamlet will appeal." She motioned for Angelica to sit. Angelica remained stubbornly standing. "My darling, before we leave tonight, I think I should acquaint you with some of the...less fortunate talk about His Grace."

  Angelica raised her eyebrows and caught Lily's eye. "At last! I am simply dying to hear it. Is it truly dreadful?"

  "None of it is true," said Mrs Stirling sternly. "That is the most important thing to remember. Sit down, Angelica."

  This time, Angelica obeyed. Lily sat beside her, their hands clasped in each other's laps.

  "I am ready, Mama," said Angelica, with her best impression of deference.

  Mrs Stirling pressed her lips together until they formed a tight, hard line. Angelica's mother was too well-bred to reveal her true feelings, even in front of her daughters, but this was the surest sign that something was bothering her. Angelica wondered whether h
er mother really approved of the match as much as her father did.

  "Ten years ago, the Duke of Redhaven was involved in a duel. It is said – only said, mind you, never proved – that the other young man involved was in love with his sister, Lady Adelaide. That young man – Lord Oliver Barnet – was terribly injured by His Grace. Of course, this is all based on gossip. Lord Oliver never pursued the matter legally."

  "I know Lord Oliver!" cried Lily. "He is hardly able to walk, the poor man! Are you really saying that Angelica's fiancé is to blame?"

  "And all because he loved the Duke's sister," murmured Angelica. "How horrible!" Her mind was already leaping ahead to the time when she would meet her future sister-in-law. She was determined to get the truth from this Lady Adelaide.

  "That is not the worst of it. The sad fact is, Lady Adelaide passed away a short time after the duel. Some say she died of grief." Mrs Stirling coughed uncomfortably. "Others say... No, I will not repeat it. It is simply too horrible to mention."

  Angelica's eyes widened. "Lady Cecily told me there was a rumour the Duke murdered someone. If Lord Oliver is still alive, that must mean..."

  "Your father is absolutely certain that His Grace never harmed a hair on his sister's head," said her mother sharply. "It is vicious gossip, nothing more. Lord Oliver was popular, you see, and the Duke of Redhaven... well, even in his younger days, he did not have a wide circle of friends. All that is certain is that, since his sister's death, he has never returned to London. Not until now."

  "Then how did Lady Adelaide really die?" asked Angelica, almost too frightened to hear the answer. "No-one can actually die of grief, can they?"

  "Heartbreak, perhaps," said Lily, placing a hand on her chest. "I can imagine that."

  "There is a difference between rheumatic fever and a broken heart," said Angelica. Lily smiled wryly.