Lady Adventuress 01 - His Wayward Duchess (22 page)

“Do you want to know what I think?”

“I expect you’ll tell me regardless.”

“I think you are not the least bit sorry that Lady Charlotte fell in the lake. My dear girl, I have to say that I had not expected such hoydenish behaviour from you!”

“But, Y
our Grace, it is not my fault that you expected me to be nicer in my ideas than I am. Besides which, I do believe she deserved it. ” Holly had an unmistakably satirical light in her eye.

“Hmm, that doe
s sound like your kind of logic. Well, at least we are fortunate that you were not the one to fall in the lake.”

“
Me? That wouldn’t signify – I assure you, I’m a capable swimmer.”

“I was more wor
ried about your emergence after such a fall. That gown you’re wearing is most… remarkable.”

“My gown? What of it? It’s velvet. I don’t know what has you in such a frazzle,” she said casually, adjusting her lace glove.

“Truly?
Then the daring cut of your gown in the vicinity of so many debaucherous cads is merely coincidence? All those bucks dangling after you already… You are, in a word, on your way to becoming downright infamous.”

“Well
, upon my word! I had no notion that I was eligible for sartorial infamy. In any event, my dress is entirely my own affair, and I assure you I don’t care what you think of it, or any other of your fellow rakes.”

Her eyes blazed into his defiantly
. Strathavon’s hand tightened a little on her elbow, drawing her closer.

“Oh, I don’t credit that, my girl,”
he said, his voice a dangerous growl. “I believe that you have come all this way to trifle with me. This is all a game, isn’t it? Between spending your pin money on silks and swanning about town in such deplorable dresses.”

“
You’re being odious. And I don’t credit for a moment that you find my dresses deplorable,” countered Her Grace, deliberately throwing his words back at him. Her eyes lit up with a minxish sparkle.

Holly’s
cheerful mood seemed entirely unaffected by the duke’s apparent displeasure.

“You are more trouble than a debutante on her first outing!”

“That is very likely,” Holly agreed. “But I have made up my mind that today shall be a happy day. I am happy. Very happy. And you are not to ruin it, my lord Strathavon.” Then she reached out and brushed aside a tiny leaf that must have blown on to the sleeve of his coat.

The intimacy and ease of the gesture left the duke
short of breath, though it seemed that Holly did not notice at all.

Holly half-expect
ed that Strathavon would sulk over the boating episode, or treat her to one of his disapproving frowns, but the duke made no more mention of it. Nor did he say a single cutting thing about the Phaeton that was delivered to the stables directly after breakfast the next day.

Holly
went out to admire the vehicle, which looked wonderfully daring – she wanted nothing more than to test it out in the park, but the rain that had arrived late the previous night seemed determined to persist for the rest of the day. It made driving out quite impossible.

This was a shame because
Holly had hoped for some fresh air before she was obliged to begin interviewing potential lady’s maids that evening.

“Well,” said Strathavon wryly, having looked over the vehicle quietly. “I have to admit that your taste in carriages is
sound. Though it seems you’ll have to wait for the weather to dry up before shocking the dowagers. Will you play piquet instead?”

They
went back into the house and spent a leisurely morning playing at cards. Holly was surprised to see the duke so sanguine and relaxed. It was as though a steady new intimacy had crept over them without either of them having noticed it. It was a thing impossible to describe, but just as impossible to ignore.

In the middle of their third g
ame, Holly looked up at Strathavon with a challenging smile.

“I
think we need to put up stakes. It will make the game much more interesting, don’t you think?”

The duke
chuckled. “Have you run through your pin money already?”

“Not at all
. And I don’t want money.”

“Then what do you want?”

For a moment, their eyes met, and Holly felt her breath catch somewhere in her throat just as her heart began to race in her chest.

She was caught
up in his blue gaze, and might have stayed that way forever, if a flower girl extolling her roses outside the window had not intruded into the reverie, breaking the spell.

The duke looked amused at Holly’s
flustered voice.

“
A good question… I should like an outing. To the British Museum. I have not been in years and years, and I would dearly like to go. And in my turn, if I should lose, I will offer to take you up beside me on my new Phaeton – by which you have failed to be suitably impressed, I might add.”

Strathavon was
pleasantly surprised. The British Museum! It was a most unexpected request. It took him a moment to register the second half of her proposal. His eyes narrowed.

“You are trying to run me up sweet
, I think, which makes me wonder what you are really about.”

Holly
looked unruffled, reaching over to pick up Mittens and place the cat in her lap. Mittens stretched, lazily extending her claws into Holly’s day dress. “Not in the least. I think you’ve forgotten that I don’t much care about your opinion. Now, shall we play?”

He didn’t fail to recognise the note of challenge in her voice.

Sylvester nodded and picked up his cards. He still suspected she was up to something. He wondered how it was that the girl managed to find adventure wherever she went and to tumble in and out of trouble at the blink of an eye.

*

Holly had just secured herself a surprising and glorious triumph in the last round of piquet when a footman announced Lord Avonbury.

“By all means, bring him in here,” said Strathavon, looking exasperated.

The earl wasted no time in making his appearance.

“Avonbury,
” the duchess said when Strathavon’s cousin strode into the drawing room. “You’re just in time to celebrate my victory.”

The earl laughed. “Good morning, Holly.
Victory? Have you had one over on poor Strathavon again?”

“I fear I have
. I have won an outing at piquet.”

“And almost certainly without cheating,” added the duke, eyes glimmering with amusement.

“Now, don’t be unsporting,Your Grace. It’s no one’s fault but your own if you let your mind wander,” Holly teased.

The earl shot a bewildered look at the cat. “
My but you have become domestic around here.”

“Rather,” said the duke sourly.

“Oh, stop being silly. He’s very fond of Mittens, Avonbury, though I expect he won’t ever say it.”

The duke had the audacity to snort at that.

“Now really! You ought to be much kinder to me, Strathavon. I may be generous and drive you about the park even if you lose.”

“Generous! You just wish to show off your new Phaeton,” Strathavon countered.

“New Phaeton!” Avonbury exclaimed. “You did not mention you were looking for a vehicle. I should have been pleased to help you pick one. Is it any good?”

Strathavon shrugged. “I believe Holly managed
well on her own.”

“I say, that is just sp
lendid. You and I are of a like mind, Holly – you see, I’ve just purchased a new stallion.”

It turned out that, upon completing the transaction, it occurred to the earl that
nothing would do but to have the duke’s opinion of the animal, which was currently being seen to in the duke’s stables.

There was nothing for it, but
for all of them to proceed to the stables and inspect the stallion, though Avonbury expressed a very great curiosity in seeing the Phaeton as well.

To Holly’s amusement
, they spent a good hour in admiration of Avonbury’s new horse, and then returned to the drawing room to continue the conversation for another half hour at least.

“I can’t help but notice that Lord Myles Wooley
has been dancing attendance on your friend Miss Dacre,” Avonbury told Holly at last, having thoroughly covered the subject of horses. “I saw him at the club today, when he was on his way to pay a call on the lady. I wouldn’t normally meddle, but the man is an out-and-out cad – led my sister a pretty dance last summer. I would council you to give her a hint that she had best steer clear. His intentions, if they are not dishonourable, can only be mercenary in nature. Wooley needs to wed an heiress with a dowry of at least twenty five thousand, else he will have pockets to let.”

“Especially if his luck at cards continues to run foul as it has been doing,” the duke added.

With a sinking feeling, Holly remembered the way her friend had seemed hopelessly taken with the man. Firmly, she reminded herself of Sir John’s undeniable progress in that direction. His gallant behaviour towards Lady Charlotte, and the rumours of the baronet’s dangerously rakish side, which Holly artfully denied at every opportunity, had gone some way to increasing his popularity with the ladies of the ton.

“Yes, he always did seem the worst kind of adventurer,” she said to Avonbury. “Thank you for the advice – I shall take it to heart.”

It seemed that in the matter of Verity and Sir John, no time could be lost.

*

The rain did not subside the following day,
nor the one after. If anything, Holly was convinced that it only got worse. It was chilly and the dreary cold seemed to permeate the hearts of just about everyone in London.

The
women whom Holly interviewed for the position of lady’s maid had come in bedraggled and miserable, and the company at the various evening diversions was much the same.

It was during a dinner party at Lord
Bettenhall’s that everyone seemed more morose than ever, despite the many superb entertainments and foods provided for their amusement.

The Duke of Strathavon, seated across from Holly and to the left, next to Lord
Bettenhall’s mother, was attempting to stare his duchess out of countenance. Possibly her new gown, boasting a crimson satin bodice and mock lace sleeves, was to blame. She raised her eyebrows at him with an unruffled half-smile, before returning her attention to the conversation.

As it was a small, informal gathering
, guests had taken the liberty of talking across the table.

They were engaged in a fascinating discussion of how the gentlemen had passed such rainy days when they were children.

“Did you really make your own fireworks, Lord Avonbury?” asked Verity interestedly, her eyes wide.

“Y
es. There were instructions in
The Boy’s Own Guide
. It was really fairly simple – I say, Strathavon, do you remember? It was your book we used.”

“Indeed – we nearly set the begonia patch alight.”

“How marvellous the sorts of things boys can get away with,” said Miss Sanford, with equal parts envy and disapproval.

“Get aw
ay? I beg your pardon, Miss Sanford, but we were in the grounds keeper’s black books for weeks. It was most unpleasant retribution, when one wants to go hunting or swimming, or to hide from one’s tutor in the gardens.”

“I imagine a young lady couldn’t have done that – even in the country,” said Miss Sanford.
“I spent an awful lot of time cutting likenesses out of card with my sisters.”

Lord Bettenhall
turned to Holly at those words. “Lady Strathavon, you have lived most of your life in the country – won’t you tell us how it was that you passed the time there? Did you venture to make fireworks?”

Holly blinked in surprise
. Strathavon shot her an amused look, daring her to tell of the escapades which she had related to him. Holly met his gaze unwaveringly, and felt a tingle in her heart.

She
recognised that familiar comforting warmth which always settled over her when she was the object of his regard. It made her want to reach out to him and touch his hand, to be wrapped in his arms, to inhale his familiar scent or hear the warm rumble of his deep voice.

Accepting the challenge, s
he gave her host a smile.

“
I don’t believe we ever did, though we did have a copy of
The Boy’s Own Guide
. I think it was because papa could not abide loud noises when he was working and no one thought it politic to risk his wrath. But there are a great many other ways to pass the time in the country, Lord Bettenhall, provided one has a bit of imagination.”

She took a sip of her wine, and continued. “
Why, we swam, rowed boats and climbed trees in the summer. There were apples to be picked and fallen apples to throw at your siblings. There was one very memorable balmy August when my brothers and I had even attempted to build our own raft and sail it on the duck pond, though the undertaking had ended in failure and much hilarity. But when it rained, we played charades, put on tableaux and held our very own jousting tournament in the portrait gallery, using old umbrellas.”

This seemed to delight
the present company. The corners of Strathavon’s sensual mouth curled at this latest morsel of Holly’s remarkable childhood.

“I say! Jousting?” Avonbury exclaimed.
“With umbrellas? Marvellous!”

“
But how did you go about it?” Sir John asked curiously.

Strathavon regarded
Holly with an exquisitely raised eyebrow, awaiting elaboration.

“
It was very easy. We found old umbrellas and parasols in the attics, and we would take it in turns to slide along the long gallery in our stocking feet, dressed in father’s old coats for safety, and joust at each other with closed umbrellas. It was very silly and incredibly diverting.”

“Silly nothing
! You are an absolute treasure, Lady Strathavon – I declare that we must have a tourney of our very own. Just like the knights of old,” said Bettenhall. “It shall be much better than those races we had at Eton: the older boys had to race each other while carrying the youngest – do you remember, Avonbury?”

“
I remember you were rotten at it.”

“Then your memory is fau
ltier than I thought. No matter. I shall refresh it tonight. I throw down my gauntlet to you, my good man.”

“Then I can but accept,
” Avonbury laughed. “I am only sorry for the fate of my new waistcoat.” He indicated the garment in question, which was embroidered in a bronze and gold pattern of autumn leaves.

In strict accordance to fashion,
precisely two and a half inches of this marvellous waistcoat showed beneath the tailcoat. Avonbury was always unfailingly
de rigueur
when it came to the finer details of mode.

Holly had heard him declare many times that were few things more unpardonable and ridiculous in modish society than wearing the wrong size cravat
or an outdated waistcoat.

Lord Bettenhall
nodded. “Lady Strathavon, if you will grant me a token? I should be honoured to stand as your champion. Verily, you must do so on the sly, for your Lord Husband should make his wrath felt most keenly.”

Holly
met Strathavon’s eyes, which glittered with laughter and something else delightful. She chuckled and handed over her silk handkerchief. “I should be honoured, my good Sir Knight.”