Duchess by Mistake (24 page)

Clair's lashes lowered as she shyly nodded and murmured something unintelligible. Elizabeth could not recall a time when Clair had not spoken with great confidence.  Oh dear, was she becoming smitten with Richie?

* * *

Philip would have preferred it were the Contessa staying at the Pulteney. It was solid and respectable, and his presence there would never be questioned. But going to an out-of-the-way inn—albeit, a most luxurious facility, to be sure—rankled.

Why in the bloody hell had the woman rushed to England to be with him? He thought he had been perfectly clear when he terminated their affair.

When he had first received her letter, a white-hot fury had pounded within him. His first instinct was to dispatch a cold letter to her. But he could not do that. If she had come so far a distance to see him, she could not be dismissed with an angry letter. He could not deny, either, that she had once been important to him.

Another reason he needed to see her was because he must make his position toward her perfectly clear. She had to understand that nothing she could do would rekindle what was now as cold as last year's ashes.

He had taken the precaution of switching to a hack. It wouldn't do for the Duke of Aldridge's crested coach to be seen at the very hotel where the Contessa Savatini was staying. Located on the banks of the Thames in South Kensington, the Chiswick had been the villa of a long-dead nobleman a century earlier. The stand-alone mansion lay behind brick walls constructed of the same gray stone as the massive three-storey house.

Once the coach passed into the inn yard, Philip disembarked and he instructed the hackney driver to wait. "I won't be more than a few moments."

Inside, he faced a liveried footman, who spoke first. "If you're to see the Contessa, I will show you the way."

The youthful footman began to climb the stairs. On the top floor, he strode down the wooden corridor, paused in front of a door, and inclined his head. "You will find the Contessa within." The liveried servant returned to the staircase and went back to his post.

Philip knocked. "Angelina?"

She flung open the door and went to throw her arms around him. "Oh, my darling!" She wore a crimson dress that revealed her generous bosom, and she was as elegant looking as she was stunning. Yet her dark, lithe beauty no longer enslaved him as it once had.

He stiffened and backed away. "You know I am now married?"

Eyes that had sparkled at him a moment earlier now dulled. "Come in. We must discuss this marriage of yours."

They entered the private parlor, and she went to sit on a settee near the fire. It reminded him so much of Elizabeth's chamber and the cozy chats he enjoyed with her on the settee. He regretted coming here, regretted that he wasn't sitting with his duchess right now.

"Won't you come sit by me?" she asked.

"I prefer to stand." He moved to the fire and faced her, his mouth firm, no kindliness in his disposition.

"I confess. I had heard about your marriage, but just because you married does not mean we cannot be together. Remember, I was married before, and it never dulled your ardor."

"You might recall that I resisted you five years ago because you were united to another. It was you who swore that Savatini was tolerant of your infidelities, your
many
infidelities."

"But,
amore mio
, the moment I gave myself to you, I told you it was forever. Nothing that has occurred since has diminished my deep love for you."

He eyed her with subdued hostility. "Do you remember what I told you the first time?"

She pouted and did not answer for a moment. "The same thing you told me the day you dismissed me."

"Which was?"

"From the start, you said what you wanted from me was only physical." She peered up at him with moist eyes. "But you cannot deny that what we shared was wonderful."

"It is not my nature to discuss such things, Angelina. I mean to be a faithful husband to the good woman I've married." He had rehearsed what he was going to say to the Contessa, but the words he actually uttered were not the same ones. As he spoke, he came to a stunning realization.

He spoke the truth. He had initially planned to be faithful to Elizabeth only during the early, exciting days of their unification. Now, though, he found that he had no desire for any other woman.

Especially the beautiful but decadent Angelina Savatini.

Comparing her to Elizabeth was like holding up tarnished tin to sparkling gold.

She attempted a smile, but he knew her well enough to know how insincere it was. "You are trying so hard to be a good husband. It is most admirable. But no one expects a powerful English duke to be a faithful husband. It will be permissible for you and I to be lovers."

"It may be permissible to you but not to me." He moved toward the door.

She followed him with her eyes. "Your intent is a very touching, but I know she can never satisfy you as I can. And I am a patient woman."

* * *

When Friday came, Elizabeth would not leave the house. She was overseeing the most important dinner of her life. Trent Square was the most important thing she'd ever done. This dinner was second. If she could demonstrate a capability in such affairs, perhaps she could regain her husband's affection. Since the night he'd been so icy to her over dinner, she and Philip had not been alone together.

She knew he was avoiding her and suspected the cause of his disapproval was her afternoons with Richie. If only she and Philip could talk. Then she would be able to identify the source of his displeasure and work out a solution.

For now, her best hope of winning his approval was to host a successful dinner. From Philip's secretary she had gotten the guest list. For those names that were unfamiliar, she raced to the library to consult
Debrett's
. In that well-worn volume, she studied the family histories assiduously, committing the name and background of each of their spouses to memory.

She had also been faithfully reading the parliamentary reports in the two major newspapers so that she would be able to understand the political discussions that were certain to occur.

She determined the seating arrangements and once again went over the menus with the cook. The wine merchants had brought cases and cases of the finest wines at an exorbitant cost, and she had instructed the footmen which wines to serve with each course. She had inspected the table, selected various colourful fruits to display in the magnificent Aldridge epergne, and had overseen all the flower arrangements.

“Your grace, I hate to trouble you,” the housekeeper said as she swept into the dinner room, “But I wanted your opinion on a minor matter.”

Elizabeth whirled to her and smiled.

“Did you and his grace not say these dinners are to become a regular occurrence?”

“Yes, that is the plan.”

“There’s difficulty with the wine storage. There’s only a small cellar—not nearly large enough for the crates you’ve ordered for this dinner alone. It occurred to me that –with your grace’s permission—we could store the crates in the large palace cabinet adjacent to this room. It would be ever so much easier for the footman, too.”

“I certainly have no objections.”

Mrs. Harrigan moved toward the door. “I’ll alert Barrow that when the wine is delivered, it is to be stored in the chamber next to the dinner room.”

Once Elizabeth was certain everything was perfect, she went to her own chambers to begin her toilette. A half hour later, she heard her husband speaking to his valet, and minutes after that Philip strolled into her bedchamber, sinfully handsome in his evening dress of jet black coat against snowy white  shirt with dove coloured breeches.

His gaze sifted over her with what she perceived to be simmering approval. "Your selection is perfection."

She then realized she'd been holding her breath, praying for his approval of this new gown. She had commissioned the pale blue frock of gossamer-like fabric especially for this night. She had chosen blue because Philip had once said he favored her in that colour because it brought out her beautiful eyes. "Thank you."

"I had hoped you'd wear blue tonight." He then opened the velvet case he clutched. "See, I've brought the sapphire necklace."

Her pulse accelerated when she felt the brush of his hand upon her bare neck. Once the necklace was clasped, she peered into her looking glass. She would never be a stunning beauty like Anna, but Elizabeth was supremely satisfied with her appearance—so much so that it would not surprise her to hear herself referred to as beautiful. For she was a beauty on this night.

If only Philip thought so.

Then she stood and twirled around, soliciting her husband's approval. "Shall I do?"

His simmering gaze swept over her. "I will be the envy of every man at the table."

Even though she knew her brother's wife would outshine her, nothing her husband could have said would have pleased her more. She smiled up at him. "Allow me to say that I shall be the envy of every woman at the table."

They went downstairs together, and Haverstock and Morgie, with their wives, were just arriving in the entry corridor as she and Philip reached the bottom step. She was struck over what a handsome couple Haverstock and Anna made. What man would not be mesmerized over her stunning beauty? Elizabeth's gaze flicked to Philip to see if he would be drawn to Anna, but his attentions were fully upon Morgie.

He offered a hand to Morgie. "So very glad to learn you'll be standing for the Parliament and so pleased to see you and Lady Lydia here tonight." He eyed Elizabeth's eldest sister and bowed.

Then he turned and welcomed her brother. "Pray, Haverstock, before the others arrive, you must tell me if you've come to a decision regarding the proposed tax increase."

Haverstock frowned.

Elizabeth's stomach dropped. How could she bear it if her husband and her brother were in opposition?

"How can I not support the increase when my best friend is its most staunch advocate?" Haverstock finally said.

She could have kissed her brother!

A huge grin brightened Philip's face. "I am in your debt."

"You're more than a friend," Haverstock said. "You're now my brother." His gaze flicked to Morgie. "Just like Morgie."

The other lords began to arrive, most of them with plump wives dressed in fashionable frocks. She and Philip began to circulate among the guests, offering cordial greetings before everyone moved into the drawing room.

Once every guest had arrived, they proceeded into the dinner room according to precedence. Pride surged within her when she saw how lovely the room looked. Hundreds of candles blazed from three huge crystal chandeliers that hung above the long table which was set for forty.

"I expected to see Lord Knolles here," Lord Hathaway said to Philip once they were seated.

"Since he's made his opposition to me so clear, I did not invite him." Her husband spoke stridently, purposely projecting his voice so that he could be heard at the foot of the table as well as at the head. "Tonight it was my wish to gather those lords who vote their conviction rather than to please a man who's been sitting in the House of Lords longer than most of us have been alive."

Haverstock cleared his throat. "There is room in the leadership for other men—younger men of unquestionable loyalty to their country."

"Indeed there is," Philip said. "Every man at this table tonight is capable of one day replacing Lord Knolles."

"Not that we're advocating demotion of the Lord Chancellor," Haverstock said. "Ideally, we would like to continue to work together to win this devilish war."

Elizabeth began to pass around plates of buttered lobster and kidney pies while one of the footmen was filling bowls with clear turtle soup from the huge tureen from which steam was rising.

Before conversation commenced again, the attendees continued filling their plates with food fit for a king.

"I am so pleased to finally meet the Duchess of Aldridge," Lady Hickman said. The woman was seated four places away from Elizabeth, and she looked vaguely familiar, but Elizabeth was certain she had never before met the woman.

"It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Lady Hickman. Your father was the Earl Desford, was he not?"

The woman's eyes shimmered. "What a remarkable memory you have, your grace."

Elizabeth eyed the woman who was twice her age. "I believe I may have seen you at Almack's."

"Indeed you did. I believe every eye at Almack's was on you as you waltzed with that excessively handsome officer last week—or was it the previous week? The crowd was positively droning over the beautiful Duchess of Aldridge and the officer."

Elizabeth swelled with pride that her beauty was being praised. Her gaze flicked to her husband. She had expected to bask in his approval, but he could not have peered at her with a more loathsome look.

When she had first looked to the head of the table, she noticed Philip and Haverstock exchanging curious glances. Then her husband directed a menacing glare at her.

Everything had been going so well. No finer meal could be served anywhere in the kingdom than that offered to his guests tonight. No expense had been spared, and his wife had ensured that every last detail was perfect. He could not have been prouder. When Lady Hickman had praised Elizabeth's beauty, it gladdened him.

But the confirmation that Captain Smythe had indeed come back into Philip's wife's life was as debilitating as a blow to head.

All thoughts of Parliamentary matters or even the tax increase vanished from his mind like the closing of a blind. Pain surged through him.
My wife's reunited with the only man she's ever loved
.

He was vaguely aware that Morgie was addressing Lord Strickland. "Are you acquainted with the fact I've had a son, my lord? Well, I don't precisely mean
I
had him, you understand. 'Twas me wife who did the deed."

Under normal circumstances, Philip would be chuckling over his old friend's jolly comments. But nothing could give him joy tonight. Not the Regent himself favoring them with his presence. Not pledges from every man here to support the tax increase. Not even an announcement that Captain Smythe would return to the Peninsula.