Chapter 2
Henry, the fourth Duke of Arundel, needed rescuing. The Countess of Wembley had been talking to him very loudly about the charms of her young nieces for over twenty minutes now, and only a glimpse of his friend William heading toward him gave him hope of escape.
Unfortunately, however, as he turned to greet his friend, he spotted the gaggle of women behind him and realized that William had brought his own troubles along in his wake.
“Lord Arundel,” William said, opening his eyes wide at Henry with a panicked expression. “Have you met Lady Huntingdon and her… er… lovely daughters?”
A quick glance at the three sullen young ladies standing behind Lady Huntingdon was enough to convince Henry that “lovely” was entirely the wrong adjective to describe them.
He bowed to Lady Huntingdon. “Charmed, I’m sure,” he murmured, shooting William a scathing look that his friend pretended not to notice.
“I’m sure you gentlemen would love to dance,” Lady Huntingdon boomed. She was a thickset, red-faced woman dressed top to toe in lime green, and William positively wilted at the sound of her voice.
Henry’s mischievous side got the better of him. “Of course we would.”
He beamed at the three young women behind their mother and offered his hand to the prettiest, leaving William to choose between the other two.
William glowered at him as he followed him to the dance floor with the tallest and most sullen looking of the sisters, the other having promptly announced her need to get a drink of water.
“You were supposed to rescue me,” William muttered too low for anyone else to hear as they lined up and waited for the music to begin.
“And instead, all you have done is ensnare us both,” Henry responded under his breath before greeting his new partner.
She was a plain girl but with a lively smile, and Henry felt a pang of sympathy for her.
She didn’t want to be here any more than he did, he was sure.
Confound this marriage market and meddling mothers.
At the thought, he unwittingly glanced across the room to meet the eyes of his own mother, who gave him a cool nod of approval at his choice of partner.
Henry bit back a sigh, regretting having allowed her to talk him and William into attending this event.
She’d accepted an invitation on his behalf, and there had been no polite way to wriggle out of it.
Society had so many damn rules. He wished he were back at Oxford with William and not here in this endless round of ballrooms and dinners and afternoons at the club. It was tedious.
But his mother had her sights set on Henry being married this season and seemed deaf to his protestations. She insisted that he needed to wed. Henry, however, had determined that he never would.
Not with the dark secret of his past hanging over his head.
As the dance came to an end, Henry bowed to the young Miss Huntingdon and practically dragged William away.
“Why on earth did you bring them all over to me?” he hissed.
William shrugged helplessly. “I didn’t know what else to do. I couldn’t get away from her—the mother, I mean. And you’re a duke, which trumps a marquess, so….”
“So you thought you would transfer her attentions to me. Capital. What a way to treat your best friend.”
They both glared at each other for a moment before they simultaneously burst out laughing.
“Let’s get some air on the balcony,” Henry suggested. “It will give us some respite.” And get me out from under the watchful eyes of my mother, he added silently.
On the balcony, the two young men stared out at the gardens.
A lake shimmered in the moonlight, surrounded by neatly trimmed bushes.
A young couple walked arm in arm among them.
Newlyweds, perhaps. Otherwise, they would either be chaperoned or not walking around so boldly.
Henry felt a moment’s pang at the thought of his bachelorhood.
He enjoyed it, of course, but did he really want to be alone forever?
Unfortunately, he had no choice.
“I saw you dancing with Charlotte earlier.” William’s voice cut into his thoughts.
“Yes. I saw her huddled in the corner as usual. How are her prospects this season?”
Henry liked Charlotte. She was a sweet woman, although she seemed to have suddenly grown up from the gangly, spirited girl he remembered following him and William around in the summer holidays.
She was much more reserved now, but then, it wouldn’t be the thing for her to be so free and easy with him now that she was out on the marriage market. They weren’t children anymore.
“Not too good, unfortunately.” William frowned. “The only attention she gets is from men who are entirely unsuitable. You saw the Earl of Banbury dancing with her? I was glad to see her dancing, of course, but then she immediately ran off to her friends again.”
Henry felt relieved that William wasn’t considering the earl as a suitor for Charlotte. It wasn’t his business, of course, but he was fond of Charlotte and didn’t want her to be made unhappy by a disastrous marriage.
“She doesn’t help herself by behaving like such a wallflower,” William continued, his hands in his pockets as he gazed out over the garden. “She’s in her fourth season. She can’t afford to be so unsociable.”
Henry frowned at that. He didn’t find Charlotte unsociable at all; just a little shy.
And he thought she looked rather pretty tonight, although he supposed she wasn’t particularly noticeable in a room full of young women all vying with each other to catch the men’s eyes.
Personally, he thought the natural look was more attractive.
“If she just made the effort to be more fashionable or cultivate some conversational skills….” William shrugged.
“She’s a capital girl, of course, you know that, but I don’t want to see her married off to someone who won’t give her the kind of life she deserves.
And our mother is determined she will marry this season. ”
“So is mine.” Henry raked his hand through his hair, frustrated by his mother’s insistence.
He wasn’t in the same boat as Charlotte. As the Duke of Arundel, he was sought after. He wasn’t conceited, but he was all too aware of how this game worked, and he knew that he could have his pick of most of the young women of the ton.
As long as his secret didn’t come out.
“Henry!”
He was so deep in thought that the sound of his mother’s voice startled him. She had followed him and William out onto the balcony and now stood in the doorway, her thin lips pursed with disapproval.
“Whatever are you two boys doing out here? You are here to mingle, dear, not skulk on balconies and hide in the shadows.”
“Your Grace.” William bowed, looking terrified. Henry’s mother, the Dowager Duchess of Arundel, could reduce him to a naughty schoolboy with her sharp tongue within seconds.
“I believe I’ve perused tonight’s share of available young ladies,” Henry said, trying to inject a cool sarcasm into his tone and instead sounding merely sulky.
His mother glared at him. “Well, in that case, we may as well take our leave. Good evening, Lord Fitzgerald. Do give my regards to your mother.”
Henry sent William an apologetic look as he followed his mother back into the ballroom. As she said their goodbyes to the countess, he found himself looking around for Charlotte. She was back in the corner with Misses Sutton and Doherty, their heads pressed close together, deep in conversation.
He thought back to her brother’s comments about her poor marriage prospects and smiled sadly. It would be a shame if she were married off to some old lecher. Surely spinsterhood and genteel poverty would be preferable?
But, of course, not everyone was as averse to marriage as he was.
I have my reasons, he reminded himself as he gave his mother his arm and led her outside to their carriage. She maintained a pointed silence until they were well away from the manor, and he braced himself for the scolding that he knew was imminent.
“Henry,” she began in a clipped voice. Her expression was unreadable inside the dark carriage. “It seems you haven’t been listening to me.”
“I can assure you, I have, Mother.”
“Then why are you not yet betrothed? Henry, if you do not marry and secure an heir, then all of the sacrifices that myself and your father have made will have been for nothing.”
Henry didn’t answer her. He knew what was coming and closed his eyes against her words.
“Not every couple would raise a bastard child to be a duke, Henry. By refusing to marry, you are throwing that back in our faces. It is… ungrateful.”
He sensed that if she were willing to be less ladylike, a much stronger word would have been used. But appearances were everything to her.
Hence his next objection.
“And what of the consequences for this future wife and child, Mother, if the truth were to come out? Publicly shamed, excluded from the ton…. Is that the life you would wish for an Arundel heir? Not to mention the innocent young woman you wish me to ensnare in such a trap.”
He sensed his mother stiffen across from him and heard her sharp intake of breath. “Then we ensure that the truth does not come out.” The finality in her tone and the way she settled back into her seat told him the conversation was over. As usual, she would have the last word.
The rest of the journey occurred in silence. When they arrived home, he helped her down from the carriage without looking at her, and as soon as he could take his leave, he marched swiftly to his own rooms.
“Your Grace, shall I get your bath and nightclothes ready?” his manservant, Grimes, asked, obviously surprised to see him home so early.
Henry shook his head. His mother’s words still stung.
Bastard. Ungrateful.
He seethed with irritation, restless and unsettled, and knew there would be no early sleep tonight.
“Lay out my sporting attire, if you would, Grimes. And I will require a carriage to take me back into town. An unmarked carriage.”