Dismissing the Duke Read online

  Chapter 8

  “Finally! This blessed day has come!” Leah jumped from her bed as if there were springs beneath her seat, and bounded across the room to throw open the heavy damask curtains.

  Esther shielded her eyes from the light, wishing she could have just a few more minutes under her covers. But Gabriel wanted to get started for London just after breakfast, so there was little time to waste. Thankfully, the trunks were all packed and loaded—they had only to ready themselves and break their fast.

  Esther watched as her sister scurried about, thinking how the tables were turned this morning. Leah was typically the one to sleep late, while Esther was always the responsible one, getting up earlier than necessary to assure timeliness for whatever it was she had to do that day.

  She rolled over on her side, and tucked the pillow beneath her neck as she stared out the window at the spring-blue sky. Truly, she ought to have been just as excited as Leah this morning, but she just couldn’t muster it. Her thoughts were on Timothy, as they usually were these days, and what was going to happen between them once they were in London. She would still be expected to attend the balls and soirees, mingle with the gentlemen there, at least appear to be looking for a husband. But how could she do that knowing the only man she cared about, the only man she had an interest in marrying, was back home, pressing shirts and shining shoes?

  “Gabriel’s going to have your head if you’re not ready to leave at ten,” Leah said, pulling Esther from her thoughts.

  Esther yawned and rolled to her back. “Yes, I know,” she sighed, and then she felt the bed dip as Leah sat down on the edge.

  “Whatever is the matter with you?” her sister asked.

  “Nothing is the matter with me,” she lied, her focus still on the canopy looming above her. “Why ever would you think that?”

  Leah came into view, looming over her, and leveled her with her Danby Blue eyes. Eyes that Esther had always been exceedingly jealous of, for she was the only one out of the three to receive plain, uninteresting brown eyes. “I’m no idiot, Esther, as much as you may think I am.”

  “I most certainly do not!” Esther propped herself up on her elbows, forcing her sister to back away. “I’m only hard on you because I know you’re capable of more. If I thought you were an idiot, I wouldn’t even try.”

  “Ah,” Leah nodded, the gleam of sarcasm in her eyes, “is that how it works?”

  Esther threw back the counterpane and swung her legs over the opposite side of the bed. Her feet squished into the Aubusson rug as she crossed to the vanity.

  “Are you going to answer my question?” Leah called to her, still perched on the bed.

  “What question?” Esther replied, hoping to avoid the topic her sister was so intent on discussing.

  “What. Is. The. Matter. With. You?”

  “Oh, that.” Esther pulled the ribbon from the end of her braid and began to unravel her hair. “I told you…nothing is the matter.”

  “We’ve shared a room for twenty years, Esther. There is something the matter, and I will find it out. It would be nice if you’d save me the trouble of my own investigations, but since you’re not willing to cooperate, well…”

  Esther shook her head. Her little sister could be quite annoying, despite the fact she wasn’t so little anymore. “Leave it be, Leah. You’ll only be wasting your time.”

  “Fine,” she said. “I’ll leave it be for now.”

  “Forever.”

  “For now. We have to hurry and prepare for our trip anyway.”

  Within the hour, they were both dressed head to toe in their traveling dresses and headed for the breakfast room. After a quick breakfast of toast and tea—for Esther couldn’t eat much more than that when traveling in a bumpy carriage—they said their goodbyes to those staying behind and then boarded the coaches.

  Esther stuck her head out the window to wave goodbye, but her great-uncle startled her by coming right up beside her.

  “Sorry to frighten you, my dear,” he said, “but I wanted to say one last thing to you, if I may.”

  “Of course, Your Grace,” she said, her brow furrowing with concern. Whatever could Great-uncle Danby have to say to her?

  His hand rested over hers and his eyes sparkled in the sunlight. “I want you to enjoy yourself in London.”

  Was that all? What an odd thing for him to say. “Yes, of course, Uncle. I certainly hope to.”

  “What I mean to say is…it is all right to do something that is, perhaps, out of character.”

  Esther furrowed her brow even more. “Is it?”

  “Indeed.” He squeezed her hand. “Do not be afraid to take a chance.”

  “A chance on what, exactly?”

  Danby shrugged his broad shoulders and grinned at her, but instead of answering, he merely knocked on the side of the carriage, and then it lurched into motion.

  Torture. There was no other way to describe the particular level of Hell that Timothy had found himself in. Completely tortuous. There she was, locked in a carriage just a few yards ahead of his own, while he sat here with the girls’ and Mrs. Whitton’s ladies maids. Not that Mabel and Molly weren’t fine company, but, well…he’d much prefer the company of a different young lady. And he’d also much prefer not to watch her flit about London looking for a husband. What the devil was he thinking, coming along on this trip? Surely, nothing but heartache awaited him in the capitol.

  Even more troubling was seeing the duke whisper something to her through the carriage window. The furrowed brow and confused look in her eyes didn’t bode well. Did the duke know about them? Was he warning her against the perils of conducting affairs with those beneath her?

  Damn, but his imagination was running away with him. Perhaps the duke was simply bidding her a simple farewell. Why it would elicit such a serious expression from Esther, though? Timothy couldn’t be certain. But it made him feel better to think along those lines.

  They arrived in London just before sundown, three days later. He’d been relegated to sleeping in the stables at the coaching inns along the way, while the family occupied rooms inside, so there was little interaction to be had with any of them, which made for a rather boring trip. He was glad to finally reach London and eager to get settled into his room at Gabriel’s townhouse. As it happened, though, they had somewhere to be later that evening—a ball of some sort—so Timothy had time only to drop his bag in his room before he rushed off to assist Gabriel with preparations.

  He was nearly to Gabriel’s chambers on the second floor when a door opened further along the hallway. His heart raced, wondering whose room it might be, wondering if he was going to catch a glimpse of Esther this evening. But then Leah poked her head into the corridor, dashing Timothy’s hopes and yet filling him with relief all at once, for wouldn’t it be easier to not see her? To not be reminded of her serene beauty and gentle spirit—or their afternoon of passion—just before she went off to find a suitable husband?

  “Oh, Hargood!” Leah whispered as she shut the door behind her. “Just the person I wanted to see.”

  “Me?” Timothy replied, taken completely off guard by the gangly girl rushing toward him.

  “Shhh!” She waved her hands as she approached, glancing back over her shoulder. “I don’t want my sister to know I’m talking to you.”

  Oh, bloody hell. Did Esther tell her sister about their rendezvous? Was she going to scold him for it?

  “I need your help,” she said, taking his arm and dragging him further away from Esther’s door. “You see, my sister has a secret, I just know she does. There’s something off about her lately, and I can’t quite put my finger on it. Even worse, she won’t tell me! Imagine that! My own sister, keeping something from me. I assure you, I’ve never kept a secret from her.”

  “I can’t imagine you have,” Timothy replied, unable to help himself.

  Leah went on, unfazed by his jest. “I swore to her that if she didn’t tell me, I would just have to find out on my own.�
�� She leveled him with her sharp, blue eyes. “That’s where you come in.”

  Timothy cleared his throat, quickly becoming uncomfortable with this conversation. “I can promise you, Miss Leah, I do not know your sister’s secret.”

  “Well, of course you don’t!” she laughed. “But all I’m asking is that you keep your ear to the ground for me. I’m certain there will be evidence of…of…of whatever this secret is lurking about somewhere.”

  “And what sort of evidence am I to be looking for?”

  “Well, if I knew that, then I wouldn’t need you, now would I?” Leah shook her head as if she thought him the most daft of all men. “I’ve been gone too long. Just promise me you will report anything unusual to me.”

  With a great deal of reluctance, Timothy replied, “I promise.”

  Chapter 9

  “Ah, there you are, my precious children!” Mother rushed toward them as they entered the ballroom at Ashbury Manor and Esther was the first to be engulfed in a cloud of expensive perfume and peacock feathers.

  “Hello, Mother,” she said, half glad to see her and half dreading what lay ahead. Esther was practically ancient by societal standards, so there was no doubt Mother would be relentless in finding her a husband as soon as was humanly possible. Which explained why she’d insisted they come to this sparsely attended soiree this evening. The Season wasn’t in full swing yet—it would have been nice to rest at the townhouse tonight—but Mother had been insistent.

  She made the rounds to Leah and Gabriel and finally Sara Beth. When she approached her new daughter-in-law, a softness came over her, a gentleness in her eyes that wasn’t present with her own daughters. But Esther would be foolish to be jealous. She knew Mother felt sad for the newest member of their family, for she’d grown up without a mother of her own.

  “How radiant you are looking, Sara Beth,” she said as she pulled her close for a hug. “Is my son taking good care of you?”

  Sara Beth pulled away from Mother and looked up at Gabriel, stars dancing in her russet eyes. “Indeed, he is quite doting.”

  “As he should be,” Mother said, turning and taking Esther by the hand. “Now come and I will introduce you to our hostess.”

  The young Duchess of Hart greeted them with all the grace and poise of someone born to her position, but her beauty was as staggering as the rumors had indicated. Esther was certain she’d never seen someone so striking in all her life. That dark hair piled atop her head, olive skin that appeared as if it had been bathed in oil, and dark, piercing eyes. Good heavens. She could have been wearing rags and been just as striking, but the scarlet gown she wore only made her seem more exotic and mysterious.

  Esther curtseyed before her. “Your Grace,” she said.

  “You must be Miss Whitton,” the duchess said. “I’ve been so eager to meet you ever since your dear mother told me of your eagerness to make a match this year. Perhaps my reputation precedes me, but I’m rather adept at making matches.”

  Esther cast a glance in her mother’s direction, giving the slightest shake of her head. But Mother only shrugged and smiled at her before pulling Leah away toward the refreshments.

  “Is that so?” Esther asked, reluctantly allowing herself to be pulled along to wherever it was the duchess planned to lead her.

  “Now, you mustn’t worry. I promise not to match you with some old codger just because he has a title. It is my life’s purpose to help others find love.”

  “Indeed?” Anxiety rose in Esther’s breast. She had already found love—love like she knew she’d never find elsewhere. But how could she say that to the duchess? Or anyone, for that matter? They’d laugh at her and call her a silly girl and then sternly warn her away from associating with her brother’s valet.

  Her heart twisted, but she had to ignore it. There was nothing to be done about her lot in life, so she might as well face it head on, no matter how much it was tearing her up on the inside.

  “Ah, there’s the gentleman I wanted to introduce you to,” the duchess said, her gaze fixed on a tall, handsome fellow standing near the doors to the balcony. He had blond hair and too-long sideburns—a trend that Esther wasn’t terribly fond of—but when he looked their way, and nodded to the duchess, Esther could see he had mischief in his light blue eyes. “Come.”

  Her Grace led Esther toward the man, and when they arrived before him, he took the duchess’s hand in his and lifted it to his lips, pressing a lingering kiss to her knuckles. The duchess snatched her hand back and swatted him with her fan.

  “Enough of that, Basildon, I have someone I’d like to introduce you to.”

  Basildon’s gaze shifted somewhat reluctantly from the duchess to Esther. His brows shot up in the most roguish of ways as he looked her over, and then he gave her a pleasing smile. “It would be my pleasure.” He took Esther’s hand, which caused her to bristle, and brought it to his lips, as he’d done with the duchess.

  “Basildon, this is Miss Esther Whitton.”

  “Whitton?” His expression was the same as most people’s when they heard the name Whitton. “A relation to the Duke of Danby, I presume?”

  “You would presume correctly, my lord,” Esther replied, her tone far calmer that she expected it to be, for her heart was racing and her nerves on edge. “He is my great uncle.”

  “And will your great-uncle be in London this season?” he pressed.

  Esther nodded. “I believe so, though I am not usually kept abreast of his plans.”

  “Enough about her relations,” the duchess piped up. “Basildon, aren’t you going to ask Miss Whitton to dance?”

  “Well, if I can’t dance with you, I suppose I shall.”

  “How flattering,” Esther murmured as she handed over her dance card. Why on Earth did the duchess think she’d have any interest in this condescending man who was most certainly a rogue of the highest order?

  “I shall see you in a few minutes, Miss Whitton,” Basildon said, and then shifted his gaze back to the duchess. “A pleasure seeing you again, Your Grace.” He bowed before her, but never took his pale blue eyes off her. As a matter of fact, they swept her body and then fixed on her face as if he were a wolf and she his prey.

  “Don’t let William catch you looking at me like that or you’ll have an appointment at dawn.”

  Basildon threw his blond head back with a guffaw. “Am I to take that as a threat…or a promise?”

  “Heavens, Basildon, do try to control yourself for once, will you?”

  “I can try, but I make no promises.”

  As he turned on his heel to walk outside, he had the audacity to wink at Esther. Wink! What a scoundrel. And now she would be forced to dance with him. How very unlucky for her.

  “Don’t worry,” Her Grace said, taking Esther’s arm again. “He’s not as awful as he pretends to be.”

  “You mean he’s not a complete scoundrel?”

  “Oh, no, he is a scoundrel for sure, but I know that deep down, he just needs the right lady to make him change his ways.”

  “And you think I’m that lady?”

  The duchess stopped and turned to her with a wide smile across her ruby lips. “Well, just look at you. You’re beautiful and smart, poised and mature. Why, you’d make a fine countess, don’t you think? And I just know you’d be a good influence on Basildon.”

  “But you’ve only known me for five minutes.”

  Her Grace tittered with laughter. “Perhaps. But I’ve known of you for quite some time. I know your reputation, I know your family. I think I am absolutely correct in my assumptions of not just you, but how you’d get on with Basildon.”

  Esther leveled her with a stern glare. “The only way I can imagine getting on with that man is if he were six feet under.”

  Her bluntness seemed to only excite the duchess. “See? There. That’s exactly why you’d get on so well with him. Basildon needs someone who will stand up to him, like you did just now with me.” She reached out and grabbed Esther’s hands. “Yo
u may scold me later if it all goes awry, but for now, I’m asking you to trust me.”

  Goodness, she was a convincing woman. Esther stared at her, somewhat mesmerized by her onyx eyes, and finally let out a long sigh. “Fine,” she said at last. “I will give him a chance.”

  The only thing Esther could think about as she whirled around the dance floor with Basildon was how much she missed Timothy. And how horrible she felt dancing with another man while he was at home in what was probably a dank, tiny room below stairs. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair at all, not to him, not to her. Not to this rogue who thought he had a chance to make a match with a Whitton. Not that she cared about being fair to the pompous earl.

  Thank heaven there wasn’t time for talk during this particular dance. It was far too lively and required a good deal of concentration. It had been almost a year, after all, since Esther had had to perform it. She didn’t particularly like dancing, but she’d grown up knowing it was an important skill to possess. Although, if she were to marry a valet, would she miss attending the dances and the parties?

  A small smile forced the corners of her mouth up as she pictured a quiet life in the country with Timothy. She knew, without an ounce of doubt, that she would never miss this. Not with Timothy by her side, not with a brood of children to look after, laughing and running through the house and over the countryside, and…