The Duke's Defiant Debutante Page 5

  "I have had both, Angelica. Though I suppose I am lucky that my broken heart was caused by the fever, and not some careless duelling gentleman."

  Angelica let go of Lily's hand to fiddle with the buttons on her gloves. "I cannot find any way to excuse the foolishness of a duel. Violence is never the answer, no matter what injury has been given. And what could possibly have injured the Duke when his sister merely fell in love?"

  "Angelica, I see what's in your mind," said Mrs Stirling, taking the hand which was worrying at the button and firmly placing it back in Angelica's lap. "I forbid you to mention this to the Duke. Do you understand?"

  "If I am not to ask him about it, what was the point in telling me at all?"

  "You need to be prepared, my darling. Society loves nothing more than a scandalous piece of gossip. People talk about the Duke, and, when you are Duchess, people will talk about you. I do not want you to be taken off guard."

  "But you do want me to marry him."

  Mrs Stirling's eyes flickered away for the briefest second. "Your father wants you to marry him. And I am your father's wife. You will soon learn that a wife's role is to support her husband."

  Angelica jutted out her chin defiantly. "That's not the kind of wife I want to be."

  "Then your life will be more difficult than it needs to be," sighed Mrs Stirling. "And all I want for you, Angelica, is a life of ease and happiness. You too, Lily."

  "I am sure the Duke will make Angelica happy, Mama," said Lily piously. Angelica rolled her eyes.

  "You mean his money and his title will make me happy. The man himself... we'll have to see."

  "You had better get rid of that attitude, young lady," said Mrs Stirling, narrowing her eyes. "It's time to leave. The Duke's carriage will be outside to collect us any minute. Are you ready?"

  "As I'll ever be," said Angelica, trying to ignore the fluttering in her stomach. She glanced into the mirror. She was still not used to seeing the young lady who looked back. "A princess, did you say, Lily?"

  "Even better. You look like a queen," her sister promised her. Angelica tried to take heart. On the inside, she felt rather too much like a frightened little girl. If she had succeeded in keeping her fears from her face, that was some comfort.

  "I am ready, Mama. Let's go and spend a wonderful evening with my...my fiancé."

  "Excellent." Mrs Stirling glided out into the hallway. After exchanging a sympathetic look with Lily, Angelica followed.

  Lily loved the theatre. It had been years since she'd been inside one – not since her rheumatic fever had taken hold. Now that she needed to spend so much time lying down, it was simply out of the question for her to spend hours sitting in a crowded auditorium. There would be no worse place for her to have a fit of breathlessness, or worse, fainting.

  Angelica liked the theatre too, but not for the glamour and bustle of people which Lily enjoyed. For Angelica, it was the stories – wild tales of pirates, shipwrecks, danger and derring do. She had the same feeling watching a play as she did reading her books. The feeling that she had been utterly transported to another land – a brighter, better land – where anything and everything was possible.

  "Don't you agree, Your Grace?" she said, half-breathless with excitement, as the carriage began to rattle through the spacious Mayfair streets. The Duke had not spoken a word beyond hello and a polite how do you do to her mother since they had got into his carriage. And what a carriage it was! Angelica could not deny that she was used to the finer things in life, but she had to admit to a little thrill when she saw the ornate livery on the doors and settled back into the plush velvet seats. It was far and away the most comfortable carriage ride she'd ever had.

  "Agree with what, Miss Stirling?"

  "That there is simply nothing to match a well-performed play!"

  Edward inclined his head to get a better look at her. "You enjoy the theatre?"

  "Very much!"

  "I hope you have other enjoyments. There is little theatre to be had in the region of Redhaven Castle."

  "Oh." Angelica bit her lip. Find out what books he reads, Lily had said. "Do you...do you enjoy reading, Your Grace?"

  "I do not."

  Angelica blinked. "What, not at all? Not even – not even the papers?"

  "I find much of modern day reporting to be too full of scandal and supposition to suit my tastes, Miss Stirling."

  "I like reading very much," said Angelica, ignoring the stern look it drew from her mother. "Perhaps I can introduce you to some of my favourite novels."

  "Novels are not a gentlemanly pastime," said Edward, turning to look out of the window again. It was as if she bored him.

  Angelica knew she was many undesirable things, but boring was certainly not one of them.

  "If I were a gentleman, I would behave exactly as it pleased me, and I would not care whether other people thought my pastimes suitable or not."

  "Angelica!" her mother hissed.

  Edward's eyes flickered lazily over Angelica's face. She felt as though she were being pinned to her seat by that powerful deep green. "It seems to me, Miss Stirling, that you already do not care what other people make of you."

  Angelica lifted her chin proudly. "There are very few people whose opinions matter to me."

  "That is just as well." And he turned away again. Angelica bit down on her frustration.

  Was the man really so disinterested in conversation? How was she ever going to survive a marriage if he refused to talk to her? Not just speak – he was too polite to ignore her, after all – but really, truly talk?

  Angelica had always nurtured a dream, childish though it might have been, that her eventual marriage would be a meeting of minds. She wanted someone to spar with, someone to exchange witty nothings with, to stay up all night discussing deep matters with.

  Edward, apparently, wanted someone who was silent.

  Suddenly, the entire carriage lurched rapidly to the side. Angelica slid sideways onto her mother's lap with a shout of surprise. Edward rammed his leg against the door to stop himself toppling.

  "What's going on out there?" he called, and, without waiting for an answer, he had thrown off his jacket and leapt out of the slanting doorway.

  "My apologies, Your Grace," stuttered his driver. "The wheel has come apart from the axle. I don't know how it happened – the carriage was in perfect condition when I checked it this morning."

  "No matter. These things happen." Edward shouldered the door open. "Ladies, let me offer you a hand."

  Angelica felt her arm being roughly grasped, and in a moment she had been turfed out of the wobbling carriage like a sack of potatoes. She turned back to see her mother being handled much more gently.

  "Let's see the damage," said Edward, crouching down beside the driver to inspect the wheel. "Ah. It's only sprung out of place. We must have hit that pothole, there. It should slot back in without much trouble."

  "That's if we can lift it, Your Grace –"

  "Leave that to me. You handle the wheel."

  To Angelica's astonishment, Edward crouched down, bending at the knee, and gripped the side of the carriage firmly with both hands. His jaw clenched with effort. Slowly but steadily, the carriage began to rise.

  "Have you got it?" he asked, only the faintest touch of strain in his voice. Angelica couldn't help but notice the way his shoulder muscles bulged underneath his shirt.

  "It's back in, Your Grace!"

  "Very good." He dropped the carriage back onto the street. A few passers-by who had stopped to watch applauded his feat of strength.

  Edward turned back and offered his hand to Angelica. "Miss Stirling?"

  "I'll sit myself inside, thank you," she sniffed. "I don't want to be picked up and flung about like an old rag doll!"

  Edward regarded her with a strange expression, his jaw still tight, though the weight of the carriage had long left his arms. "I apologise if I was rough. I was concerned for your mother."

  "Well," said Angelica, deflat
ing, "well, in that case..."

  Before she had finished speaking, Edward had taken her hand in a warm, firm, but gentle grip. Angelica stuttered, for once, into silence.

  "Allow me," Edward murmured, and handed her up into the carriage with all the strength and grace of a dancer at the Royal Ballet.

  The remainder of the journey passed without incident. Angelica did not quite know how she felt, and, as a result, remained silent until she could organise her thoughts properly. She felt her mother relax more with every passing moment without an attempt at conversation.

  Her fiancé did not like books. But he knew how to fix a carriage, and he treated his servants with respect where another man might have shouted at the driver for running the carriage over the pothole.

  How exactly did those things weigh in Angelica's esteem?

  "I know he isn't perfect," her mother whispered, once they were sitting in the box at the theatre. Edward had gone to fetch them some refreshments. "But nobody is, Angelica. You will be very miserable if perfection is all that will satisfy you."

  Just as Lily had predicted, there was not an eye in the theatre which did not turn in Angelica's direction. When she looked out across the audience, she caught sight of hundreds of people quickly turning their heads away from her, pretending they hadn't been staring.

  There she is, she imagined them whispering. There's the girl set to marry the Duke of Redhaven.

  Did they think she was foolish, brave, or something in between?

  What did Angelica think of herself?

  "Are you quite settled, ladies?" asked Edward, coming back into the box. Below them, the curtain began to rise.

  Angelica leaned across to her fiancé and whispered one very important question in his ear.

  "What do you think of Shakespeare?"

  Edward startled. The last thing he must have expected was to feel Angelica's breath tickling his earlobe.

  "I am prepared to learn to appreciate him, Miss Stirling," he said, after a moment's consideration.

  Angelica sat back in her seat, a slow smile spreading over her face in the dim light. There was no time for more talk. The play had already begun.

  Chapter Eight

  Edward had never predicted that wooing a woman who had already agreed to be his wife would take up so much of his time. Not only was he required to pay visits almost daily to her and her family, it was also, apparently, the done thing to parade her about on his arm in public, like a prize bird he'd just felled in the hunt.

  The number of invitations to balls, parties, soirees, and other social inconveniences had swelled to an unconscionable level. People had taken to calling on him at all hours of the afternoon. Some had even been brave enough to stop and greet him in the street.

  He had lived under the shadow of cruel rumours for so long that he had not dreamed his life would become even more difficult once his foul reputation was eased. How any man managed to endure London society for more than a matter of weeks was beyond him.

  "Enough," he growled, when the Earl of Lathkill stopped by his house the week after the trip to the theatre. "Enough! If you have come to drag me out on another blasted social engagement, Lathkill..."

  Frederick stood in the doorway and twirled his hat between his fingers. He was uncharacteristically sombre. That was enough to drag Edward's attention from the woes of the past week. "What is it?"

  "Bad news, old chap," said Frederick softly. He laid a hand on Edward's shoulder. "I came as soon as I heard. I thought you'd like to know before... Well, I thought you'd like to hear it from a friend."

  "Something has happened to Miss Stirling," Edward surmised immediately. His thoughts flew to the way she'd looked on his last morning call: pert and pretty in a blue dress – she eschewed the pastels and whites of traditional debutantes, and he was glad of it – and altogether far too smart-mouthed for his comfort. The thought of any harm befalling her struck him more deeply than he would have imagined.

  "Oh, nothing like that, Thorne." Frederick shot him a sideways glance. "Anyone would think you'd started to care for the girl."

  "It was a natural assumption, Lathkill. Miss Stirling is the only person in London who concerns me."

  "Sadly, that's no longer the case. It's that Barnet fellow. Lord Oliver."

  Edward froze. "He's in Bath. Taking the waters. I made enquiries before I came. The London air is bad for his health. Bad for anybody's health, at that."

  "He returned from Bath the day before yesterday. He is most certainly in town, Thorne." Frederick waited, wincing, for Edward's reaction. Edward refused to give him the satisfaction of an outburst.

  "There is only one reason for him to return," he said, his voice soft and dangerously low. "He wishes to make trouble for me."

  "Oh, I very much doubt –"

  "Why else would he risk his health by coming back to London? He's heard that I'm here and he wants to wreak his revenge. Well, I won't keep him waiting. Where is he staying? I'll pay a visit directly."

  "You will do no such thing!"

  Edward turned to Frederick with menace in his eyes. "Have you forgotten who you're speaking to, Lathkill? I'll do exactly as I please."

  Frederick sat down in a nearby armchair with a thump. "Honestly, Thorne, it will do you no good at all to go. Avoid him, that's my advice. Why go looking for trouble?"

  "I am not of a mind to wait idly by while trouble comes to find me."

  "It won't find you. It won't. I can't imagine why Lord Oliver would want to see you again, and I can imagine even less how he'd find a way to hurt you now."

  A ten-year-old memory flashed across Edward's mind. The flash of light on his pistol. The sound of a gunshot. And, later, Adelaide's cries. "You may be right, Lathkill. He cannot possibly wound me any more than he has done already."

  "And he has paid for it," Frederick reminded him. "He has paid his debt of honour."

  "Do you think his years of suffering wipe out the loss of my sister's life?" Edward snarled. His hands clenched into fists and, before he knew it, he had driven his right hand into the wall. The wood panelling bent and warped beneath it.

  "Thorne!" Frederick rushed over and seized him by the arm to stop him doing any more damage. "You maimed the man for life, isn't that enough? What will pay the debt, if not that? His death? What, am I to believe what people say about you? The murderous Duke of Redhaven – do you want to prove them right?"

  Edward let his friend lead him to a chair and pour him a glass of brandy. "None of that," he protested, pushing it away.

  "It will calm your nerves, Thorne."

  Edward glared at Frederick, but took a sip nonetheless. "I have an engagement to attend. A walk through Hyde Park with Miss Stirling."

  "Quite the dashing young buck you've become," said Frederick, risking a smile. "Well, you can rest assured that Lord Oliver will not be walking through the park. If he is there, he'll be in a carriage, and you can watch him drive by without any need to acknowledge him at all."

  "I don't trust myself, Lathkill," said Edward, looking at the bruise forming on his knuckles. "If I see that man, I can't vouch for what I'll do."

  "I'll come with you," Frederick promised him. "I'll wrestle you to the ground if I need to. Anything to keep Miss Stirling from witnessing a scene."

  Edward downed the rest of his brandy in a single gulp. "You are a good friend, Lathkill."

  "I'm your only friend, Thorne."

  Edward answered him with a grudging nod. He had to admit that Frederick was right.

  Hyde Park was as leafy and pleasant as it always was when the sun was shining. It wasn't much compared to the forest surrounding Redhaven Castle, but it at least relieved the sense of claustrophobia Edward always suffered in the city. Angelica was waiting for him in their agreed place, chaperoned by a lady's maid who seemed to have a permanent expression of disapproval on her face. If Edward had been of a mind to take advantage of Angelica's virtue, the stern-faced lady's maid would certainly have been enough to dissuade him.<
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  To his surprise, the maid was not Angelica's only companion. Another young lady was with her, a girl who shared Angelica's heart-shaped face and turned-up nose but lacked her expression of mischief and the roses in her cheeks.

  "My sister," said Angelica. "Miss Lily Stirling. My older sister, Your Grace, so you must treat her with respect. It was most impudent of you to propose to me while Lily remains unattached, you know."

  Edward kissed Lily's hand. "What an unexpected pleasure."

  He was not exactly telling the truth. He knew how close Angelica was to Lily, and he'd known he would soon meet her, but seeing them together, watching their laughter and their play at sibling rivalry, touched on parts of his heart that were still tender from their decade-old wounds.

  "Miss Stirling," said Frederick, with his customary beaming smile. "If it's not too bold to say, I am delighted to see you up and about again." Of course, Frederick was already acquainted with Lily Stirling. Frederick was acquainted with everybody.

  "Thank you, Lord Lathkill," said Lily, taking his arm. "I find myself in very good health today."

  "Let us hope that it continues."

  Whether it was Lily's weakness, or a conspiracy between her and Frederick, Edward did not know, but he soon found that he and Angelica had far outpaced their companions. Even the stern lady's maid had fallen behind to give them a little privacy.

  "It's such a glorious day!" sighed Angelica, turning her face up to the sky. "I do declare I like nothing more than being out of doors."

  "You like a great many things," Edward remarked. "Each of them, allegedly, more than all the others."

  Angelica laughed. "It is not a sin to take pleasure in life, Your Grace."

  "I did not mean to censure you for it. Rather, I envy you." Edward wondered how Angelica would like the grounds at Redhaven Castle. A pleasant image formed in his mind, of his little wife coming home from a vigorous ride through the woods with flushed cheeks and bright eyes.

  "Envy me?" Angelica, perhaps unconsciously, had risen up on the balls of her feet as she walked, so that she could talk to him on a more equal footing. "The great Duke of Redhaven envies me?"