Chapter Fourteen
Hattie couldn’t breathe. Her heart thundered against the crushing silence below.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, may I introduce William Sutherland, Duke of Wimberley.’
Applause filled the air as His Grace stepped out on to the landing and, after almost a minute, the clapping finally abated.
He was talking, but Hattie couldn’t process the words.
Focus. Focus. The crowd laughed and she realised he must have said something to lighten the mood, which reminded her to breathe.
‘Do not forget you are Lady Penelope Denning,’ Daphne whispered in her ear.
‘Chin up, chest out, shoulders back and remember you are the most beautiful woman in the room and betrothed to a duke. No one can rival your beauty, charm, or power at this moment. Let them fawn over you and allow yourself to soak it all in. It is not every day one becomes a pretend future duchess, is it? And do not accept a word of harshness or judgement from anyone. Look down at them and move on, if needed.’ She clutched one of Hattie’s hands and squeezed it.
Hattie smiled and nodded. Then she heard the Duke say her name—well, Lady Penelope’s name.
All the blood rushed from her head to her feet, but she remembered Lady Buchanan’s words.
No one can rival your beauty, charm, or power at this moment.
Hattie lifted her chin, pulled back her shoulders, put out her chest and stepped forward one beautiful shoe at a time as though she was Cinderella herself until she was next to the Duke.
A collective intake of breath fell over the crowd below and then a silence followed.
Hattie held her smile and let her gaze drift over the sea of beautiful ladies and gentlemen who gaped up in surprise at her.
Her pulse raced along, but she focused on the amazing transformation of the room to distract herself.
It was far more pleasing than anything she had read in any book and it was real.
She was no longer the girl in the orphanage praying for a different life, she had one… for a moment at least.
Savour it, she imagined Ophelia whispering in her ear. You are glorious, Hat. Allow yourself to enjoy it.
And so she would. She smiled once more and turned to His Grace, bowing slightly. Applause broke through the silence and she released a breath. When His Grace smiled at her and gestured for her to step forward, she smiled back and did so to more applause and a few unexpected cheers.
Her toes and fingertips tingled. She had never been in such a crowd or been the centre of such attentions.
Was this what he was used to? It was hard to imagine such a world, but here she was thrust into the centre of it.
To her surprise, she had been initially accepted, so the first part of their ruse was complete.
His Grace offered his arm to her once more and she slid her gloved hand around his forearm.
The sheer warmth and strength emanating from him steeled through her and steadied her as they took the first stair step together.
‘Well done. They adore you already, Lady Penelope,’ he whispered as they continued down step after step.
‘My heart may explode from my chest,’ she said with a bit of a giggle. She took her time, letting her slippered toes and heels anchor safely on each carpeted stair to avoid a trip or fall.
‘I could not ask for anyone more beautiful or kind to be my betrothed this evening,’ he murmured close to her ear. ‘Thank you.’
A delicious shiver went through her as the warmth of his breath edged along her cheek and the soft lobe of her ear.
She glanced at him. His gaze of sincerity and the intensity of his words shifted something deep within her.
The long dormant desire for more awakened in her, like a new bud wishing to open under the warmth of its first sun.
They descended from the last step and settled on the hardwood of the ballroom floor.
Her reply died on her lips as His Grace lifted her arm and led her out to the opposite side of the floor.
She pressed her lips together as they moved to the very spot they had practised from earlier in the week as the opening strings began to play.
This was their dance and their moment to prove to everyone that their farce was real.
There was no escaping the hundreds of pairs of eyes upon them.
‘Penelope,’ he breathed, pressing a kiss to her gloved hand.
‘William,’ she replied, the ‘m’ hanging precariously in the air as she gazed into his blue eyes.
Then they stepped back from each other, bowed and began the dance as the first couple.
Soon after, other couples, those of highest rank first, fell in place around them.
Hattie moved with ease between her partners—all of the men were poised and graceful in their measured movements—and soon she was smiling and laughing, as she was handed from one nobleman to another until they had woven through the entire set and ended up with each other once more.
‘I am pleased to see you enjoying yourself, my lady,’ William stated.
‘Far more than I expected,’ she replied in a low tone. ‘Pretending is fun.’
‘Then, let us continue for one more and then take refreshment.’
‘Sounds glorious, William,’ she replied, offering a small bow and wink before they began their next set.
The evening became a blur of dances, introductions and pauses with His Grace and Lady Buchanan.
They were keen to check in with her at regular intervals and Hattie was grateful for their attentions to ensure she was settled and comfortable.
The hours passed quickly and as a crack of thunder and lightning sounded, there was a small hiccup to the music and dancing.
‘Stay as long as you desire, everyone. No need to rush out only to be caught in a downpour,’ His Grace called out good-naturedly.
Laughter followed and the musicians began an enthusiastic reel, which men and women settled into with ease.
Hattie stood by His Grace’s side and sipped wine from her glass.
‘We may be dancing all night,’ she quipped.
‘The rain is sideways,’ she added, nodding towards the rain now pounding along the large windows.
‘It is, but we cannot send them off now, can we? Especially when you are such a smashing success. They are all believers in Lady Penelope Denning and our…attachment. You have charmed all of them…including me.’ He gazed upon her, taking a step closer.
His forearm pressed against her own and the liquid heat from such a meagre touch coursed through her.
Her stomach flipped. Perhaps the wine was rushing to her head, but the way he said the words and the gaze accompanying them made her believe for a moment that he desired her and that she was Cinderella destined to live among them all here for ever with Ophelia and Trudy by her side.
His fingers trailed along her collarbone and her pulse jumped. Surely she was mistaken. He would never think of her in such a way. She was an orphan, a no one, and he was her employer. She took a small step back despite how she savoured his touch and the idea of his affections.
‘My apologies. That was inappropriate…’ he added, running a hand through his hair. ‘I am grateful to you, that is all. I will see to our guests.’ He disappeared into the crowd before she could reply.
The evening continued in a swirl of music, dancing and revelry, and after a time even the most steadfast guests began to exit the dance floor and prepare to leave as the clock struck two a.m. The worst of the storm had dissipated despite the errant rumblings of thunder and lightning that seemed determined to linger.
‘Shall we bid our guests farewell?’
Hattie turned to His Grace and smiled. His playful good humour had returned and Hattie was grateful for it.
She disliked awkwardness and wished to celebrate all they had accomplished that evening with Lady Buchanan and the staff of the Manor.
Without all of them, they wouldn’t have been able to succeed in such a scheme.
‘Of course,’ she replied, accepting his offered arm.
Guests filtered out in intervals as the carriages manoeuvred through the muddy mess that had become the drive leading to the Manor.
Even from the doorway, Hattie could see several of the horses were still a bit skittish and jumpy from the storm as they wove through the line of carriages and guests hurrying to reach them and return home for rest.
Several of the horses pawed at the ground and shook their heads against their reins and blinders, eager to escape the storm and the crush of carriages crawling around the drive as they were loaded with guests.
A crack of thunder and lightning flashed, sending one pair of horses from a fine carriage in the middle of the drive that had just been loaded with its guests into a jump as the driver closed the door for the ladies within.
The horses kicked up as the man rushed to them, attempting to grab the reins and leap up to the driver’s seat to regain control.
One of the horse’s hooves hit him squarely in the chest, sending him sprawling back into the muddy drive with a thud.
Hattie sucked in a breath and grabbed His Grace’s forearm. ‘William,’ she said, urgently interrupting him. The desperation in her voice must have shocked him. He stopped speaking mid-sentence and turned to where she pointed.
He cursed before shouting, ‘The carriage!’ to all those before him and closer at hand.
He rushed past several men, who then followed him in pursuit of the runaway carriage that was picking up speed as it approached an upcoming curve in the drive.
The women within the carriage screamed as they clung to the doors for safety and men ran behind, trying to catch up with the carriage as the wheels splashed mud back at them, impeding their progress.
His Grace was fleet of foot, closing the distance between him and the carriage with impressive speed.
Soon, he was alongside the back wheel and Hattie cringed.
It was a dangerous spot to be in as the carriage began its turn, but he stuck to his position and did not falter, but increased his efforts.
He reached the first horse and grabbed for the reins.
The horse picked up speed and the back wheel of the opposite side of the carriage tilted off the ground.
Hattie’s heart thundered in her chest. The carriage was tipping.
‘William!’ she cried out over the din of the noise and commotion around her. Before his name had even echoed across the drive, the carriage tipped and William disappeared beneath it.