The Duke's Undoing (Three Rogues and Their Ladies) (29 page)

“This palace may be large,” Peter said, “but it will not have two mistresses.”

“But who will teach this chit how to go on? She can’t possibly know.”

“She is not a chit but the granddaughter of a duke on her father’s side. Scarborough. I would never have married a lady who would not be able to be my duchess in every respect. Elise is highly capable.”

Once in her guest room, a dimly lit place with only a token fire and drapes so old they were falling to bits, Elise sank into a worn chintz-covered wingback chair. Pulling off her bonnet, she heaved a sigh. Phew! She did not know how she was going to last living with that woman for the next six weeks. Not wanting to be at odds with anyone, she felt deflated and sad.

The palace was a showplace in the public areas she had seen. But it felt too much like a mausoleum. How could this ever be home?

There was a soft knock on the door, and Peter stepped inside. “You were magnificent, my love.”

She rose and walked into his arms. “I think the only place I will feel at home in this huge, cold place is in your bed.”

“It isn’t terribly homey now, but I have every confidence that you will make it so. We haven’t talked about our honeymoon. You once mentioned your desire to tour the Continent. Shall we not fulfill your dream? And buy tapestries and carpets and paintings to make this place our own?”

“Oh!” she said, pulling away from him in order to see his beloved face. “What a wonderful idea! Directly I wake up tomorrow, I want a personal tour of this place. We can plan together what changes we want to make.”

“That will be a good plan for the morning hours. In the afternoons for now until however long it takes, you are going to be sitting for your portrait. The sixth duchess of Ruisdell. A good friend of mine is by way of being a portrait artist. He is coming to stay tomorrow.”

“Oh!” She was startled. “My goodness, Peter! Whatever shall I wear?”

“I want you in midnight blue—perhaps your ball gown? There is a family necklace of sapphires which will be lovely with it. And a diamond tiara for your luxuriant hair. Have I ever told you how much I am looking forward to seeing you naked with your hair down?”

She giggled. “Peter, you take my breath away.” Stepping back a bit, she said, “I cannot see myself ever becoming a grand duchess, whatever you said to your aunt. I never met my grandfather. He died before I was even born!”

Warm brown eyes with a glint of mischief looked into hers. “I merely wanted to put my aunt in her place. You will be whatever kind of duchess you wish to be.”

“Right now, nothing sounds nicer to me than a good night’s rest. Except perhaps a kiss?”

She relished his taking her hungrily into his muscular embrace and kissing her as though he owned every part of her. His ardor was scarcely restrained, and she was all too aware that there was a bed nearby. She strained herself against him, her breath coming in heavy gasps. He was stepping backwards to the bed, and heaven help her, she was staying with him, not willing to be separated by as much as an inch.

“Elise?” Her aunt was knocking on the door.

She whispered, “I shall miss you, miles away in your suite!” Louder, “Come in, Aunt.”

“Yes, Lady Clarice. It appears that we have a problem.”

“A problem?”

“Yes. I assume you want your niece to retain her virtue until we are married?”

“That is the problem?”

“It most certainly is. We must move the marriage date forward. We must be married without delay. Tomorrow would not be too soon.”

Lady Clarice actually blushed. “What do you suggest, Your Grace? A special license?”

“I will leave tomorrow morning to track down the nearest bishop.”

“You are not afraid of scandal?”

“Not in the least,” Elise said stoutly. “You know how badly my engagements always turn out! I’ve been involved in some brangle or another ever since coming to London. We are tucked away here, and the sooner we are wed, the better I will feel.”

“If we need countenance, perhaps Lady Susannah will invite Devonshire and anyone who happens to be staying at Chatsworth House at the moment,” the duke said. “Meanwhile, you must meet my brother and his family before I go. They have the east wing at the moment. I consider it a grave insult that they did not meet us this afternoon when we arrived.”

“You have not spoken of it,” Elise said. “But has he perhaps come to think of himself as your heir?”

“Confound it, yes! And I will have him tossed out on his ear on our wedding day for his insolent behavior to you.”

In the event, the introduction was made in the dramatic red and gold drawing room before dinner. Since she had discovered how much he liked it, Elise had dressed in the gown she wore to the duke’s ball, and Kitty had arranged her hair high on her head to add to her stature. She even wore the star-spangled gold tiara.

The duke’s brother proved to be a plain and sober man. He was small and balding, his dress conventional but not in the same league with the duke’s exquisitely tailored wardrobe.

When introduced to Elise, Lord Roger said merely, “Welcome to Ruisdell Palace. Allow me to introduce my wife, Alice, Lady Roger.”

“You have children, I understand?”

“Yes. They are still too young to join us for dinner,” Alice replied with an odd complacency.

Elise had never been so grateful for her aunt and Sukey. Between them, they kept the conversational ball rolling at dinner. Peter impudently slid out of his evening slippers and caressed Elise’s foot with his own. She could scarcely maintain her countenance.

Dinner was cool, owing to the distance of the dining room from the kitchens. This was an early change she would make, Elise decided. Surely, with all the rooms in this palace, another room closer to the kitchen could be found to be set up for dining. She was also going to see to it that the fires were larger and burned for enough time to warm up the rooms prior to their being used. She had permanent gooseflesh on her arms since arriving in the palace front hall.

Obviously not relishing a tête-à-tête with his brother, the duke led the party into the drawing room, at dinner’s conclusion, dispensing with the port and cigars ritual.

“Elise, darling, do play for us,” he asked, motioning to the pianoforte.

“Gladly,” she said. “Herr van Beethoven has just published a lovely sonata. I brought it with me. If you will but ring for Kitty, she can fetch it.”

“And a shawl, I think,” Ruisdell said dryly.

When Kitty returned from the hinterlands with her mistress’s music and shawl, Elise was grateful to escape the stultifying conversation between her aunt and Alice. A fond mother, Alice was describing her children’s love of the palace and the park. Elise recognized a campaign when she heard one.

Though unable to understand how anyone could talk through the exquisite “Moonlight Sonata,” Alice demonstrated a complete disregard for the music and continued her monologue. Fortunately, the duke remained by Elise’s side, turning her pages.

“Shall we treat them to an aria from your aunt’s cat opera?”

“They certainly deserve it,” she chuckled.

“Watch this,” he said.

Clapping his hands, he was able to get Alice to cease her conversation. “I imagine you have all heard of Herr van Beethoven? The most famous musician in the world today? Well, it so happens that my dear fiancée chanced to meet this distinguished gentleman when they were both in Vienna. So captivated was he by her beauty and talent that he wrote a small piece just for her.” Elise, guessing what was coming, struggled to keep her face all that was dignified and to refrain from giggling. “Darling, will you play ‘Für Elise’?”

At last, the duke had found the right stratagem to get them to accept her. Plain snob appeal. They were all agog. Delicately launching herself into the piece, she played it lovingly, with a gentle smile on her face.

“But how extraordinary!” Eunice said when she had finished. “And what did you think of Herr van Beethoven, Miss Edwards?”

“A charming beast,” she said. “I adored him. We played duets. It was most enjoyable. I hope we will be able to see him again when we tour the Continent on our honeymoon.”

Her aunt and Sukey could not help shaking with concealed laughter.

“Not only does my Elise play the pianoforte divinely, she is also an authoress.”

This caused her a fervent blush, as she recalled her most recent composition. All in all, however, due to the duke’s efforts, she felt she had adequately established her credit by the end of the evening. She noticed he had discreetly avoided any mention of soup kitchens, balls, and wounded soldiers.

THE DUKE OF RUISDELL GOES TO LONDON

Rather than risk indiscretions brought about by the anticipation of even a short separation, the duke decided to leave before his beloved was even awake the next morning. He left her a short note:

My love, I have decided that the only bishop I am in any way aware of (and one must needs see a bishop to obtain a special license) is in London. Hence, my early start. I am riding Jupiter and hope to make the journey in a day and a half. As soon as Jupiter has rested, I will return to you, special license in hand. I cannot wait to pronounce our vows—the vows that will unite us forever. I never thought to marry anyone, and yet, this miracle has happened in my life. Remind me to tell you how I know of Sir Joshua’s approval. I love you more with every breath. Believe me, I am yours ’til death,

R.

It took him a bit more than a day and a half, for he did not like to push the stallion. On the evening of the second day, the duke arrived at Shearings, putting his skeleton staff in a quake at his unexpected arrival.

“Don’t bother taking the Holland covers off. I’m just camping here for a few days and taking my meals at the club while I see to some urgent business,” he told his butler. “Then I will be leaving for Derbyshire once more.”

So saying, he changed from his riding clothing into evening dress and strolled to St. James’s Street for dinner at White’s.

He had been away from the club for less than a week, but he noticed a change almost as soon as he entered its portals. To his astonishment, as soon as any member saw him, the man would turn his back to him, administering the cut direct. The duke’s brows flew up in astonishment. What the devil? He went in search of Somerset in the card room. When he saw his friend, George did not let him down. His face was troubled, but he folded his cards, tossed some guineas into the center of the table and stood up. Taking the duke’s arm, he led him out of the club to the street.

“What the devil is wrong with everyone?” he demanded of his friend. “What do they think I’ve done?”

George cleared his throat and continued to walk until they were well away from other pedestrians. “Confounded book!” he said.

“What confounded book?”

“Called
The Duke’s Indescretions
.”

This did not elucidate matters at all. “If you’re not ashamed to be seen with me, let’s go for a meal at Grillon’s. I’ve been riding all day, and I’m devilishly hungry. We can discuss it over dinner.”

“Bad idea. Best go to a pub somewhere you’re not known.” Signaling for a hackney, the marquis climbed aboard and gave the name of The Five Bells in Wimbledon where the duke had never been.

“Since when did the members of White’s read anything but the newspapers?” he asked. “I have not been gone a week! I cannot comprehend that they have all taken to reading novels at the same time during that short period.”

“Business at Oxford with Chessingden. First paragraph. Facts wrong. Went through Mayfair like wildfire. People say you cheat at cards.”

At Chessingden’s name, the duke jerked his head around to stare at Somerset. “Don’t tell me. The author is ‘A Gentlewoman.’”

George turned a haunted face toward him. “Betrayal of worst sort. Damned sorry, old man. Feel it’s my fault. Should never have mentioned her name.”

Ruisdell’s emotions were frozen. He recognized the feeling from the battlefield. Shock. The sort of shock he had endured when a battle left so many of his men dead that he could not even comprehend the depth of the tragedy.

The thought of dinner, especially pub fare, nauseated him.

“So all of the
ton
bought Chessingden’s version of the incident, as told by my beloved fiancée?”

George nodded.

Blind fury overtook him. “This is the last straw, Somerset. I’ll call him out for this.”

“Only thing you can do.”

“Have any idea where he is?”

“Allesbury’s rout, possibly.”

“Turn this hackney about and take me there. I want to settle this at dawn tomorrow.”

When they arrived at the rout, Ruisdell was relieved to see that it was such a crush that he could sneak in with no one being any the wiser. Lady Marianne noticed him almost immediately. She did not give him the cut direct, but hastened to his side. “I knew that little prude was not the woman for you. Imagine her actually believing you could cheat at cards!”

Remembering his fiancée’s soul-searching dismay the day he had encountered her outside Chessingden’s rooms in Chelsea, he said, “It was Chessingden’s doing. He told her lies about me, trying to turn her against me. It worked. She was so furious, she wrote that book. But she never could have known what the result would be, I’m convinced.”