Duchess by Mistake (23 page)

From the looks of his barouche, he was as needy as the Regent! "It matters not to me if you'd like to ride in the park. Would you care to invite one of my sisters?"

 Margaret and Caro had already gone upstairs, but Clair remained at Elizabeth's side. Elizabeth and Clair exchanged amused glances.

Richie responded. He stepped toward Clair. "Pray, Lady Clair, it would bring us inordinate pleasure if you would join me, my friend, Captain Smythe, and the duchess for a spin about the park."

As much as Elizabeth wanted to shout out a refusal, she knew she was incapable of being ill mannered, even though the Captain's attentions were unwanted.

How could she once have believed herself in love with him? But she now knew the answer. It wasn't the Captain she had fancied. It was his physical resemblance to the Duke of Aldridge, the man who'd stolen her girlish heart many years earlier.

Clair cocked her head, addressing Richie. "Will we be permitted to discuss politics?"

"But of course. That is the purpose of these afternoon rides with my cousin."

"Very well," Clair said.

"I perceive that you ladies are ready." Richie's gaze scanned over their lightweight pelisses. The ladies still had not removed their bonnets.

"Yes," Elizabeth said.

When they reached the awaiting barouche, Elizabeth plopped down next to her sister-in-law, and the two gentlemen were forced to face them on the opposite seat.

Elizabeth was determined not to utter a single word to the Captain.

"Did you see the
Morning Chronicle
today, your grace?" Richie asked once the equipage was on Piccadilly.

She regarded him from beneath an arched brow. "You refer to the article about our Lord Chancellor?"

"I do indeed."

"I read it, too," Clair said, "and I think it's beastly of him to attempt blocking the tax bill. It seems as if everyone's against my poor brother."

"I have much confidence in Friday night's dinner," Richie said. "It's things like that which can influence members of the House of Lords far better than an aged windbag like Lord Knolles. It's time the leadership in that chamber gets threatened."

"Change is often for the best," Clair said.

Much of the ensuing discussion was about the stubborn Lord Chancellor and discussing the article in the morning newspaper. Even though this topic was of grave concern to her husband, Elizabeth was too distracted to follow.

She was angry over the Captain's attentions. She did not like being seen with the man she had once been so romantically linked to. She feared others would think her affair was being rekindled.

Would the fragile bonds of her marriage be able to bear any more hints of scandal? She shouldn't care what others thought. But she did. It already stung that the Duke and Duchess of Aldridge were never together, that half the
ton
believed Philip had been forced to marry her. Her thoughts also centered on Friday night's dinner. This would be her first real opportunity to make Philip proud of her. Every dish must be perfect. The seating arrangement needed to encourage conversation. She must strive to look as attractive as she could. While not wanting to dominate conversation, she wished to contribute intelligently. Or else remain silent. In short, she wanted everything that she did or said to bring credit to her husband. She wanted to be a source of pride.

Most of all, she hoped this dinner would establish the Duke of Aldridge as a force in political circles.

 The discussion between Richie and Clair was so lively that Elizabeth's input was not solicited. Which pleased her. She was so out of charity with Captain Smythe she would not be interesting. And she was determined not to address him.

Midway through the park, Captain Smythe said, "I say, your grace, do you still fancy daffodils?"

She glared at him and nodded.

Back at Berkeley Square when they began to descend the carriage, she said, "You two go on in. I beg a private word with the Captain."

They faced each other. He smiled. She did not. "I must beg that you come here no more," she said. "What's past is past. You will find another woman far superior to me."

He gazed solemnly at her. "Never."

Incapable of a response, she turned on her heel and strode to the front door.

* * *

Instead of eating at his club tonight, Philip determined to surprise his wife. He'd been feeling  guilty for his many failures to escort his own wife. He'd not taken her to the park, to Almack's, or to the theatre. Not that he was going to do any of those things tonight. By fitting in a meal with his duchess he hoped to placate her. After all, he was depending upon the success of Friday's dinner. And the success of that dinner rested on Elizabeth's shoulders more than on anyone else's.

Tonight's dinner would also give him the opportunity to coordinate the dinner plans with his wife.

As his coachman turned onto Berkeley Square, Philip peered from his window at a most curious sight. His wife, along with Clair, Rothcomb-Smedley, and a man in regimentals all climbed from a luxurious open barouche. Then, oddly, his wife stayed back to speak with the officer. The man towered over Elizabeth. He was not only large, he was put together in an altogether masculine way with powerful legs and wide shoulders.

Philip felt as if he'd been thrown from a horse. Did Haverstock not tell him the reason Elizabeth had not wed earlier was because her
captain
had not offered? Good lord, could this impressive-looking officer be the Captain Smythe who had once broken Elizabeth's heart?

Philip watched as the Captain climbed back into the barouche, then seconds later, Rothcomb-Smedley joined him.

"Go on. Don't stop!" Philip instructed his coachman.

He did not trust himself to face his wife while such thunderous emotions rocketed through him. What in the bloody hell was the man doing with Philip's wife?

That  blasted Rothcomb-Smedley was an ungrateful back-stabber! Such audacity! First, openly flirting with the Duchess of Aldridge; and now he was attempting to reunite her with her former heartthrob.

I'll never allow the man in my home again
.

Philip found himself wishing he'd arrived at Berkeley Square two seconds earlier. He was consumed with curiosity to know what the seating arrangements in the barouche had been. Had Elizabeth sat next to that officer?

Dear lord, was he going to have to start treating his bride as one did a naughty child? For Philip most heartily wished to put down his foot and forbid her certain associations. Starting with that bloody cousin of hers!

* * *

After more than an hour of aimlessly riding through London's busy streets, Philip was in control of his emotions sufficiently enough that he instructed the coachman to return to Berkeley Square.

The smiling face Elizabeth directed at him would have—under normal conditions—made him uncommonly happy that he had come home for dinner. As it was, he stiffened as she walked up and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

"How is it I'm to be honored with your presence tonight, my dearest?"

"I thought I could join you for a meal, and we could discuss Friday night." He saw that she was already dressed for dinner. "I will meet you in the dinner room as soon as I change clothing."

Minutes later, owing to the efficiency of Lawford, Philip took his place at the head of the table. He and his wife were joined by his trio of sisters. "Where do the Ponsby ladies go tonight?" he asked.

"To the theatre," his wife answered. "Kean's to play Hamlet. How wonderful it would be if you could join us."

She had diplomatically refrained from berating him because he had yet to share his own box with his bride. "It would be wonderful, but I must lamentably decline."

"House of Lords meeting tonight?" Clair asked.

He nodded.

"You have an exceedingly understanding wife," Caro said, watching him through narrowed eyes.

He finally tossed a kindly smile at Elizabeth. "Indeed she is. It's always been my goal for my duchess to emulate Lady Wickshire."

Caro and Margaret exchanged queried expressions, but Clair immediately grasped the reference.  She spoke to her less informed sisters. "Our brother refers to the manner in which Lady Wickshire is said to forward her husband's Parliamentary career. It is even speculated that she helps him with his speeches."

Margaret's mouth gaped open. "I did not know Aldridge had spoken in the House of Lords."

"That's because I haven't."

Caro's face brightened. "I expect you're relying on Elizabeth's help with a spectacular dinner Friday night."

"Indeed I am."

Caro faced Margaret. "By the way, we will
not
be eating here on Friday." A look of mock perturbation was directed at Clair. "We are not deemed as sufficiently informed on matters of government as Clair, who will be permitted to attend."

"My cousin Richie particularly asked that Clair join us, owing to her intelligent contributions at the previous dinner."

Philip cleared his throat and addressed his wife. "My dear, I don't wish for Rothcomb-Smedley to attend our dinner."

Her eyes widened. "But I thought he had been included in the plans."

He shook his head. "We will need as many seats as possible for lords."

"Then by all means," Clair said, "omit me and allow Mr. Rothcomb-Smedley. He's far more important than I."

"Rothcomb-Smedley himself said a pretty, unmarried female is an asset to a large dinner table," Philip said.

Clair looked incredulous. "Then I will be sure to forfeit my seat."

Elizabeth shook her head. "Your brother's right. Richie said you were pretty, and you would be a valued addition."

Clair's pale eyes widened. "Mr. Rothcomb-Smedley surely did not say that I was pretty!"

A smile hiking, Elizabeth nodded. "He most certainly did. In fact, we actually discussed why you appeared more attractive than ever, and I merely said it was your stylish hair cut."

"And what did he say to that?" Clair asked.

"Oh, he agreed."

A look of sheer wonderment gentled Clair's face. Damn, Philip thought, is she too succumbing to Rothcomb-Smedley's charms?

"The guest list is not open to discussion," Philip snapped, glaring now at his sister. "You are in. Rothcomb-Smedley is not."

"I am not happy with your authoritarianism." Elizabeth glared at him. "What of the invitations that were extended to my brother and Anna and to Morgie and Lydia?"

"I shall be happy to have them here Friday."

For the remainder of the dinner his wife sulked. She neither spoke nor eyed him and answered his sisters only in monosyllables.

As the sweetmeats were laid, Barrow brought him a note.

Expecting that it was a missive from a colleague in the House of Lords, he quickly opened it and began to read.

My Darling Aldridge,

Since the recent death of my aged Savatini, it is my joy to rush to London and be with my love. Now I am free to be entirely yours. I stay at the Chiswick Hotel and count the seconds until we can be reunited. I chose it rather than the Pulteney because it is not on a main thoroughfare, and the innkeeper is noted for his discretion.

         Your Angelina

She had no heart on this night to partake of a Shakespearean tragedy. Ever since the coolness directed upon her by her husband throughout dinner, Elizabeth felt an Ophelia-like melancholy. Throughout the performance, she was so steeped in her own moroseness that she paid little attention to the actors upon the stage.

How could Philip have changed so much in so short a time? The last time they'd been together, he had admitted that the absence from her had made him miserable. Tonight, he acted as if her very presence made him miserable.

Nothing in her demeanor with him had changed. In fact, she felt certain that for both of them their most recent lovemaking had been the most satisfying ever.

She racked her brain tying to recall if she had done anything which could have alienated her husband. Could he resent her drives in the park with Richie? She must bring up the subject with him. All he had to do was to ask her not to see her cousin, and she would comply with her husband's wishes. Not happily, but she would comply.

As she sat there in the darkened theatre, unaware of the words spoken by the actors, she wondered how she would feel if Philip went to the park every day with his female cousin. The very thought sank her. She would never acquiesce to such a practice.

She vowed to herself then and there to terminate the drives with Richie. Now that she was reflecting on this, it was probably a good thing she had not defended Richie.

Then her thoughts wandered to Philip's coolness. If he were opposed to her spending so much time with her cousin, did that mean that Philip was jealous of Richie—which could point to a growing love of her? Or was he merely exerting his possessiveness?

A pity she could not just ask him. A pity she could not just blurt out her love to him.

Now, how to break the news to Richie. . .

When intermission came, Richie and Captain Smythe came to her box. When the Captain went to sit beside her in the seat so recently vacated by Margaret, Elizabeth protested. "There's a matter I must discuss with Richie." She eyed her cousin. "Sit here."

Richie tossed a whimsical nod to Clair, then reluctantly took a seat next to Elizabeth. "What do you wish to say?"

She lowered her voice. "I'm not precisely sure if you were invited to Friday's dinner at Aldridge House, but my husband has informed me there won't be room for you."

He whirled to her, brows hiked, anger flaring in his eyes. "I'll speak to Aldridge."

She could not recall ever before hearing such vituperation in her cousin's voice.

He leapt to his feet, drilled Captain Smythe with a glare, and said, "We must leave."

The Captain stood, and though she could tell he looked at her, she refused to look in his direction.

Almost as an afterthought, Richie turned to Clair. "I bid you adieu, Lady Clair, with great reluctance."