The Wild Duchess/The Willful Duchess (The Duchess Club Book 1) (2 page)

L
ondon
, 1879

T
ears
.

Stupid tears.

Scarlett Blackwell’s shock at the trails of salty tears on her own cheeks was as paralyzing as the notion that she would do a jig on a countess’s head. Neither was possible to her way of thinking and yet…

Tears!

Of all the rules of decorum surrounding a young girl entering society, Scarlett didn’t need to be told that crying at your first ball was completely unthinkable. It was an edict that didn’t need to be spoken it was so obvious. And Scarlett was far too practical a woman to ever be reduced to such nonsense. Her mother was American, after all, and the twins had been raised to keep a level head in any situation.

Yet, here she was—hiding in the ferns in the Marquess of Aldridge’s conservatory imitating an overdressed jungle explorer with the strains of a waltz in the distance and crying on what was supposed to be one of the most triumphant and lovely nights of her young life.

Scarlett pressed her cold palms against her cheeks and tried to rein in her emotions and accept how the evening had decayed quickly into a parody of a lady’s article of social do’s and don’ts.

Don’t make a face when the esteemed Marquess of Aldridge steps on your toes no matter how much it hurts. Limping is completely forbidden.

Don’t turn down a glass of punch even if you aren’t genuinely thirsty and wary of ending up holding the cup forever as a result, when an eligible Lord Bellford asks because he will pout.

Don’t laugh too loudly in public, even if Mr. Murphy accidentally performs a cartwheel after stepping on the Dowager Lady Shackleton’s Pekinese’s tail and lands in the previously mentioned punch bowl. This is no laughing matter.

And never under any circumstances comment or reply to people who endlessly keep mistaking you for your identical twin sister or have just noticed that you are a twin and cannot get over the uncanny resemblance.

A quick wit had not served her well. Not tonight. When Lady Beales had asked if she’d noticed that there was another girl across the room who looked exactly like her, she’d popped up with a lightning fast quip about first noticing Starr about five minutes after they’d been born and that she’d have to have been daft or blind not to have noticed her since then.

Not the wisest choice of words.

She thought she’d been well prepared. Dance lessons, which fork to use, drills on precedence and place settings, titles and teacups but apparently there were some social nuances not covered by etiquette lessons. Admittedly, she may not have been paying as close attention to the details as her more studious sister Starr but Scarlett was not ready to admit blame.

Not entirely.

Her confidence was fractured after bouncing from one mishap to another and by the time Lady Beales had publicly snapped her nose off for her impudence, Scarlett’s nerves were shattered. She’d retreated as best she could into the greenery away from judgmental stares and the snickering laughter of a few of her cattier rivals.

“I’m a Blackwell. I do
not
cry,” she said softly.

“We are both Blackwells,” Starr amended behind her. “And I’ve seen you cry every time Daisy pricks herself with a sewing needle. You are not exactly a woman of stone.”

“Well, I need to cultivate a thicker skin in any case,” Scarlett sighed.

“I’m so sorry, Scarlett. I know you had such high hopes of a fairy tale, all sparkle and laughter. It was going to be a lark, wasn’t it? London’s high society at your feet…”

“The only thing at my feet tonight was a bit of cherry punch and—I don’t know what I expected. My dance card was filled before my eyes had adjusted to the candlelight and…none of them were…very kind. It’s as if they’re all hoping we’re horrible or…secretly enjoying my failure. Once Lord Aldridge nearly broke my toes during that first polka, I don’t think I had any chance.”

“You’re not a failure.” Starr smiled. “I confess I’m only happier with the evening’s events because I surreptitiously lost my dance card by dropping it and then kicking it under that lovely Persian rug in the hallway.”

“Starr! You didn’t!”

“Of course, I did. I only came out to cheer you on. I have no interest in prancing about and trying to win a man who will only seek to boss me about and keep me from my books. I will teach at Bellewood, Scarlett, and I just have to wait patiently for Father to come around to the idea.”

“I know you’ve always hoped for it and Mother is already in your corner, dearest. But I thought that being here might evoke—I secretly liked the idea of us together, making a splash in society and… I’m an idiot, aren’t I?”

“You are many things, but I’ll shake you till those curls come down if you try to claim to be anything less than intelligent. You can beat Uncle Darius at chess, so stop that.”

The strains of music drifted out again from the ballroom and Scarlett’s mood faltered. “God, I wish this was a chess game.”

“It is, dearest. It’s a meaningless game. That’s all it is, Scarlett.”

“Well, I don’t wish to play anymore tonight.”

“Then don’t. I am certainly not placing any bets on the table or grabbing more names for another dance card this evening.” Starr swept her hands over her skirts. “I love you. You’re an incorrigible romantic clinging to that potted palm in tears but you’d shove me out into it, wouldn’t you?”

“Life is full of contradictions. I’m mourning my own botched dances and you’re kicking yours under carpets. We’re quite a pair!”

“Will you be all right?”

“Yes. Please. Please go back in! They’re all stupid enough to be confused and think we’re both having a lovely time. I doubt they’ll question a thing.”

“Very well. I’ll cross the room a time or two and see if I can’t throw off the hounds. But Mrs. Martin is not going to be fooled. I’ll let her know that you are safe in this jungle and we can look for you here before we leave.”

“Poor Mrs. Martin! I think she is enjoying this even less than we are, if that’s possible.”

Starr nodded. “I don’t think acting as our chaperone is anything she’d have imagined for herself. She possesses too gentle a nature and is openly relieved to stand with me in corners.”

“Which makes her the perfect chaperone for you,” Scarlett added with a sad smile. “What a mess we are, sister.”

“Are you sure you don’t want company?”

“No, please. I meant it. I want you to go in and make a grand show. My pride can’t take another turn and I need you to—I couldn’t bear it if there is talk of me hiding in here.”

“All right. No fear. I’ll see to everything and then collect you before we go.”

“Thank you.” Scarlett watched her sister leave as she drew on an invisible mantle of feigned confidence and happiness as a favor to her twin. Scarlett retreated into the shadows of the palms and sought out a small settee nestled out of sight of any doorway but one that was bathed in moonlight from the windows. An arch of pink tea roses provided an elegant cover and she tried to imagine that she was waiting for the evening to begin and not hiding in a conservatory praying it was already over.

“I take it your evening is not going as you’d hoped?” A male voice quietly broke through her illusion of solitude and a gentleman stepped out from a grotto of ivy and orange trees. She could not entirely make out his features but the pale light struck him from the chest downward and she could see that he was dressed in the height of fashion with a dignity that made his presence amidst the palm fronds even more jarring.

Scarlett jumped up with a squeak, her face growing hot. “Nonsense! I had long hoped for a glittering night filled with humiliation and the delights of conversations that centered on how fascinating it is that I was born as I was. What girl doesn’t?” Her fingers flew to her lips regret nearly overriding everything. “I’m sorry. I—tend to speak without thinking when I’m nervous…or startled.”

“I apologize. I was hiding from the mob myself when you came in and then I hated to interrupt such a lovely exchange with your sister.”

“Why were
you
hiding?”

“That’s easy enough. I’m a bachelor. It’s an unforgivable crime at my age and where the hunt is diligent when you’re young, it is apparently much more keen when you are older. Like vultures circling over my carcass.” He sighed. “Not that I’m on my deathbed just yet but after a night of listening to Mrs. DeWalters describe the delights of her eldest daughter’s embroidery skills and fondness for babies, I think I envy men who have the excuse of lying abed tonight.”

Scarlett smiled. “You are not a great fan of embroidery?”

“Is anyone?”

She laughed and he did as well.

“Miss Blackwell, come. Sit back down and enjoy your escape. I’ll hide in the opposite corner here in the dark and leave you to it if you wish.”

“Oh, no! Stay and with no fear of me. I have a deep respect for bachelors and I won’t reveal you if you swear to do me the same courtesy.”

“Thank you. We shall hide together in safety then.” He took his place across from her, an elegant and resplendent figure even in the shadows. “Though I confess, I am interested to know what drives such a beautiful young woman into Aldridge’s shrubbery.”

“After years of anticipation, I seem to have fallen short of the mark. Well, that’s not all of it. I may have imploded the mark when I told Lady Beales that being a twin did not require any miraculous talent on my part and that anyone who thinks having a sibling is a skill probably should worry about the concentration they think is needed to breathe.”

He laughed so heartily she didn’t have time to regret her speech.

“Come now. You’ve been a twin all your life. This can’t be new—people’s curiosity, the unthinking comments?”

“No, but—I foolishly thought on the night of my debut that I would…just be myself and not one of two. I was so excited to be wearing a different colored gown than Starr’s, so confident that we are each so different. I knew that tonight would be wonderful.” Her eyes became shiny with unshed tears. “I’m disappointed that when I’m myself, it turns out I am…not sufficient.”

“You could be perfection and they wouldn’t allow you to know it,
especially
with that perfection multiplied by two,” he said softly. “You’re Gordon Blackwell’s granddaughter, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“There you have it. If they’re unkind, it’s because they’re envious of you. You’re pretty enough to outshine their less lovely offspring and certainly brighter. That alone would be an unforgiveable offense for most of them but you have an even worse hindrance to overcome. You have the upstart pedigree of a man who could have pulled off a dragon’s wings and then made the poor beast thank him for it. They aren’t going to come close to breaking you, Miss Blackwell, but it’s in their nature to try.”

“Why is that? Why must they be so cruel?”

He shrugged. “There is something that is at once repugnant and irresistible to the aristocracy about new money. Your grandfather made his own fortunes and your father had the cheek to do the impossible and do even better for himself and add to your family’s coffers without harming a single soul or making enemies along the way. They covet the resources, envy the good fortunes of another and despise the audacity of a lesser soul for daring to rise to their level or even to go above them. You see, they want to believe that there is something unnatural about the success of others, while their own or a peer’s is taken for granted as a given—a natural state to compliment their superior existence.”

Scarlett shook her head. “You’re a gentleman. How is it that you aren’t at the head of that school of thought?”

“I never did enjoy school. Besides if their way of thinking is true, then it is an ugly truth. I prefer to think that truth and beauty make better companions. At least, they do from my vantage point and certainly with what I’m looking upon.”

“And what are you looking at?”

“I am looking at the miracle of you, Miss Scarlett Blackwell. All the other girls are out there simpering into their fans and you are giving as good as you get, and with such grace!”

She gasped then laughed. “What a thing to say! Trust me, there was no grace in that run in with Lady Shackleton’s little dog. I don’t expect too many more invitations, so I shall thank you for the compliment as I slink off into anonymity. Though it is unsettling the way you know my name and I don’t know yours, sir.”

“I am Elgin York, the Duke of Chesterton.”

“You are not, and that’s not funny to tease.” Scarlett smiled. “I’m not meeting a duke hiding in a conservatory anymore than I’m meeting the queen in a garden, or an emperor in a haberdashery.”

“Are you sure?” He held his ground.

She began to make another quick jest until she realized that he truly didn’t sound repentant and that considering how her evening had unfolded, the impossible might just have landed on the bench across from hers. “Oh, dear.”

He waited patiently for her to recover.

Scarlett sighed. “I’d run but I swear I can’t feel my knees, Your Grace.”

“Then stay. I felt so much less foolish having someone to talk to in here so I’m glad you aren’t dashing off.”

“I can hardly believe it.” Scarlett’s humor returned. “I’ve insulted a duke. My diary entry tonight will be epic.”

“I was never insulted. It was charming and very innocent on your part. In all honesty, I was considering lying and saying I was nothing at all.”

“You’ve been a duke your entire life. You can’t dodge it now.”

“No, I suppose not. But as I look at you, I find I am grateful anew for the privileges of rank.”

“How is that?”

“I’ve been struck with an idea, one that may benefit us both as refugees from the cold stares and evil schemes of the Ton.” He shifted forward slightly, the moonlight through the glass gleaming off of the pearl buttons of his waistcoat and the silver hair at his temples. “It is a potentially wicked plan.”

“What kind of plan?”

“A plan that gets us both out of this jungle. I am not in need of a wife, Miss Blackwell, and past it even if I wished one. But I am in need of a way to get through this Season without my ankles getting raw from all the matronly nipping. I want to enjoy this time around the carousel without being harangued and harassed. And you seem to be in need of a way to get your footing out there. You’re an heiress, Miss Blackwell, so I suspect all you require is the right shield to keep the wolves at bay. Once you’re at your full strength, you won’t need anything.”