Alissa Baxter (25 page)

However, even though she knew that the Duke of Stanford’s attentions were not at all serious, this did not alter the fact that whenever he walked into a room her heart began to beat a little faster, and that lately any parties which he did not attend, she had found to be interminably boring affairs. So much for her much touted independence, she thought self-mockingly. Drawing herself up to her full height, Alexandra stared challengingly at the figure reflected in the glass. She would have to take a firm hold on herself and be careful not to reveal her budding feelings to anyone, least of all to the
ton
’s acknowledged breaker of hearts. Although in imminent danger of losing her heart to him, Alexandra very much wanted to keep her self-respect.

Lady Beauchamp, John and Emily, who were already waiting downstairs, heard the rustle of a skirt, and stopping their conversation, turned to watch Alexandra descending the stairs. None of them said a word, struck dumb by the vision of ethereal beauty making her way towards them. Alexandra, totally unaware of the effect of her loveliness, said teasingly as she came to stand next to them, “My dears, surely I do not look as bad as all
that
?”

Clearing a suddenly constricted throat, Lady Beauchamp said quietly, “You look enchanting, child — and so much like your dear mother.” Alexandra embraced her grandmother, but made no response, realising intuitively Lady Beauchamp’s need for a moment’s stillness to regain her composure.

Turning to Emily, she complimented her friend on her appearance then, looking at her brother, resplendent in a new set of evening clothes, she said admiringly, “You’re turned out in prime style, John. You
are
becoming a man of fashion.”

Smiling rather self-consciously at his sister’s compliment, John said, “I took Peter’s advice, and got Swindon to make up some new clothes for me. You’re dressed up as fine as fivepence yourself, Alex.”

“Hmmm...” Alexandra murmured, her eyes sparkling. “If it ever becomes known that I am bookish, I am sure to be labelled “The Dashing Bluestocking.”” John was still chuckling at this remark when Leighton opened the door to admit the first of their guests.

Surrounded by a host of gentlemen later that evening, Alexandra smiled disbelievingly at the excessive compliments that her admirers seemed intent on paying her. Somehow she could not quite swallow Sir Richard Brampton’s assertion that she reminded him of a “mystical woodland nymph”, or Lord Hawthorne’s declaration that her “eyes outshone the stars in their brilliance, and diamonds in their brightness.” She thanked them prettily enough for their kind compliments, but a few would-be suitors began to wonder, a little uncomfortably, whether they had only imagined the gleam of unholy amusement present in the depths of Miss Grantham’s eyes as her gaze came to rest upon them.

The chords for the second waltz of the evening struck up, and Alexandra looked around in search of Stanford who had arrived at an unfashionably early hour in order to secure a waltz with her. Just as she was wondering whether he had decided to forego their dance and leave the ball early, the Duke made his way through her throng of admirers towards her and, bowing over her hand, said quietly, “My waltz, I think, Miss Grantham.”

Sir Richard, remembering that he had a grievance against the Duke, said accusingly, “It was devilish inconsiderate of you, your grace, to steal a march on the rest of us by claiming a waltz from Miss Grantham before we had even arrived.”

Smiling gently, the Duke replied, “A little foresight, Brampton, and it would have been you, and not I, who would have the honour of leading Miss Grantham out.”

Sir Richard, far from mollified, was about to continue his lament when his eyes came to rest on the Duke’s neck-cloth. In an awed voice, he said, “Dash it all, Stanford, how do you manage to effect such a perfectly tied Waterfall?” Shaking his head in envy, and thinking of the Duke’s sartorial elegance — which he had tried to emulate numerous times but with limited success — Sir Richard barely even noticed his rival leading the incomparable Miss Grantham away.

Alexandra, suddenly feeling rather shy, stepped silently into the Duke’s arms and began the waltz. A few moments passed before the Duke, smiling down at the young woman before him, said quietly, “My dear, you look absolutely beautiful.”

This simple compliment, combined with the Duke’s smile, which had become increasingly attractive to her, affected Alexandra in quite a different way from her other more elaborate tributes. Blushing slightly, she thanked the Duke, privately thinking that he looked rather handsome himself in his expertly tailored clothes. A coat of black superfine, owing to Weston’s genius, fitted his muscular form perfectly, and pantaloons showed his fine legs off to advantage. A fob hung to one side of a plain white waistcoat, and a single diamond winked from the intricate folds of his necktie. Sporting none of the affectations of the dandy-set, Stanford somehow contrived to make these gentlemen appear appallingly overdressed. He simply took one’s breath away, Alexandra reflected, ruefully remembering her recent dismissal of her grandmother’s comments about the Duke’s deadly effect on impressionable young ladies. Lady Beauchamp had been most correct in what she had said, but Alexandra had foolishly refused to admit the truth of them then. And she was beginning to wonder if it was now too late to put a proper guard on her fragile heart, after all.

The Duke spoke again, and Alexandra looked up at him as he said, “I am rather surprised to see your brother still in London, Miss Grantham. From what you had told me about him, I was under the impression that his frail constitution would make a visit to the Capital impossible for him. Or has he only come to London for a short while in order to lend you his support at your coming out?”

Alexandra shook her head, and said quietly, “John has decided to remain in London for an unspecified period of time, your grace. Now that he has had a taste of the pleasures that the Metropolis has to offer, he is understandably reluctant to return too soon to Grantham Place. One cannot blame him, of course, for wishing to remain here for the duration of the Season, however I must confess to feeling some concern over his well-being.” Alexandra sighed, but not wishing to burden the Duke further with her worries about John’s health, she forced a bright smile to her lips and changed the topic of conversation quickly, quizzing him gently, “My lord Duke, I admit to feeling somewhat guilty that you have been obliged to attend the débutante parties that I remember you once castigated as being “interminably dull affairs”, merely in order to keep me fashionable!”

The Duke noticed Alexandra’s abrupt change in the topic of conversation but, realising that she was obviously reluctant to discuss her brother’s situation, he decided not to press her further and responded to her last comment instead, saying with a smile, “No party with which you grace your presence, Miss Grantham, could ever be described as a “dull affair”. In any event, I can assure you that I no longer attend these functions merely to keep you launched successfully in Society. You must be aware that you are a success in your own right.” The Duke paused, then continued deliberately, “The real reason why I have been attending these affairs, my dear, is because I have become rather partial to your charming company.”

Alexandra blinked at these words, her heart sinking at this proof that the Duke of Stanford was indeed attempting to set her up as his latest flirt. She wanted nothing, however, of that doubtful honour. It would only bring her heartache, because she knew that the Duke, once he had succeeded in his objective of winning her over and she was no longer a challenge to him, would in all probability tire of her company and focus his attentions on some other lady, and that she could not bear. It would be foolish of her to allow herself to be drawn into a light-hearted flirtation with him that would mean the world to her, but very little to him.

Therefore, it was in a very cool voice that she murmured, “Your grace, indeed you flatter me.”

“I can assure you, Miss Grantham, that I am not in the habit of flattering people,” the Duke said shortly.

Alexandra raised her brows. “My lord Duke, your astounding record of success with my sex must have something to do with the smoothness of your tongue, and an ability to turn a pretty compliment. Therefore, I am desolate to inform you that I do not believe you!”

“I never knew, until this moment, my dear, that I would come to regret my — er — shady past.”

“Poor, poor man,” Alexandra said, shaking her head.

The Duke laughed. “My dear girl, you would try the patience of a saint! And I, as you should know, am certainly no saint!”

“Rest assured, your grace, that I have never, ever since I have known you, mistaken you for one,” Alexandra said reassuringly.

The Duke chuckled, but as he looked down at her, his smile slowly faded and he said softly, “Do you have any idea, Miss Grantham, how utterly delightful you are?”

At the warm look in his eyes, Alexandra looked hastily away, suddenly aware that the defences that she was attempting to erect against the Duke of Stanford were woefully inadequate. In the face of such a concentrated onslaught from him, she knew that she was more helpless than a newborn kitten, and, she realised unhappily, infinitely more vulnerable. This was because, as she resignedly admitted to herself, she was not merely in danger of losing her heart to the man who was at present holding her so closely in his arms. She had already lost it. Alexandra only hoped that she could somehow prevent the Duke from realising this.

Looking around the overflowing ballroom, Lady Beauchamp smiled, sure in the knowledge that her party was bound to be noted as one of the major crushes of the Season. Her gaze came to rest upon her granddaughter dancing with the Duke of Stanford. What a charming couple they made, to be sure! She had, of course, long since abandoned any plan to arrange a marriage between Alexandra and Sir Charles Fotherby, as she became daily more convinced that the Duke had seriously begun to court her granddaughter. He was, she thought shrewdly, even more in love with Alexandra than he realised. Regarding the pair thoughtfully, she could swear that the expression on the Duke’s face as he laughed at something the girl in his arms said, was almost tender. In Lady Beauchamp’s sure opinion, her granddaughter was well on the way to ensnaring one of the most elusive bachelors on the London scene.

Lady Beauchamp was not the only member of Polite Society to notice the Duke of Stanford’s unprecedented attentions to Miss Alexandra Grantham. Although the reasons behind the Duke’s decision to launch an unknown débutante into fashion had, of course, been endlessly debated in the various London drawing rooms, no member of the
ton
had at first given any serious consideration to the possibility that Miss Grantham may have captivated the acknowledged leader of Society. They had merely assumed that his grace was amusing himself in launching the Titian beauty into fashion — he was always setting some dazzler up as his latest flirt. But as the weeks progressed, and the Duke’s attentions towards Miss Grantham became more and more marked, even the most stalwart observers conceded that Stanford, in his obvious pursuit of the young heiress, was making his intentions towards her abundantly clear. What really set the cat amongst the pigeons was his grace’s actions at Miss Grantham’s coming-out ball — never before had the Duke of Stanford, in all his years on the town, arrived early at a débutante’s coming-out ball in order to secure a waltz with the young lady. It was unheard of for him to single out a lady in that fashion! It began to appear, as Lady Jersey remarked so succinctly to Lady Beauchamp, that the most eligible catch on the Marriage Mart had finally been landed.

Whether Miss Grantham would accept the Duke’s suit was never a question — no girl fortunate enough to receive the Duke of Stanford’s attentions would be fool enough to reject him! And, although the
ton
remembered that Miss Grantham had appeared to favour Sir Charles at first, no one was surprised that she now smiled on Stanford who was, of course, one of the wealthiest and most respected peers in the realm. Although a few high sticklers complained about the unsuitability of the match — his grace could surely look much higher for his bride than to a young country miss who, although of respectable birth, was certainly no match for the Duke of Stanford in either status or consequence, these dissenting voices were in the minority — the general consensus amongst the
ton
being that Miss Grantham would make Stanford a charming Duchess. The girl had style, wit and grace and was, as Lady Sefton assured his grace’s mother, the Dowager Duchess of Stanford, in one of her numerous letters to her lifelong friend — “every inch a Lady of Quality, my dear.”

In White’s the odds were very much in favour of his grace proposing to Miss Grantham — wagers being placed on the exact date when the announcement of their betrothal was likely to appear in the newspapers. It seemed that the only person unsure as to whether Miss Grantham would accept his suit was the Duke of Stanford himself. Never having fallen in love before, the Duke had been totally unfamiliar with the emotion that he had always associated with sentimental young fools. But, gradually, as he began to see more and more of Alexandra during the Season, the realisation had slowly dawned on him that he had begun to care rather a lot for this audacious young lady who crossed swords with him at every opportunity, and was completely unaffected by his title and consequence. She delighted him with her unconventional remarks and sparkling wit and humour and, in a society where position and wealth often seemed to take precedence over human warmth, Alexandra personified gentleness and kindness, thereby disdaining the airs and graces adopted by so many débutantes on the lookout for wealthy husbands. After ten years on the town, and having had more handkerchiefs thrown in his direction by scheming young ladies than he cared to remember, the Duke knew that he had finally found the one woman with whom he desired to spend the rest of his days — if only that one woman could be brought to take his attentions seriously!