Chapter Three
Her hands shook so badly that she had to set the delicate Sèvres cup and saucer aside. Although she appreciated the gesture, what sane person dared to sip tea while their world collapsed around them?
Aurelia perched upon a large, tufted sofa adorned with many fringed and embroidered pillows.
A warm fire crackled in the carved marble chimneypiece, yet she felt chilled all over.
The high, ornamental ceiling of Brantingham House’s formal drawing room towered above her head, and she imagined the gods of Mount Olympus condescending to look upon her from their unreachable peak, laughing at her misfortune.
This was a beautiful house—the home of her dreams, and yet the site of her downfall.
The Duke of Brantingham sat across from her, drinking from his cup, and eying her curiously. He suspected her of being a scheming adventuress, but there wasn’t a mercenary bone in her body. She’d come to him, fully believing that he was her fiancé. Aurelia only wanted what she believed to be hers.
His Grace was a handsome man. A brown-haired, brawny Yorkshireman, yet also elegant and refined.
She’d seen photographs of him, of course, for sale in the postcard shops alongside those of the peers of the realm, idols of the stage, and professional beauties.
He was attractive enough to make a living off of his looks, though he was far beyond ever needing to consider an occupation.
He was a duke.
He was supposed to be her duke.
The grey sack coat he wore fit him perfectly, though it was meant to lend an aura of casual comfort.
He wasn’t a clotheshorse, she realized, but he took care of his appearance.
He might also have been a very nice man—indeed, he treated her with every courtesy—yet he was dangerously close to breaking her heart.
Aurelia longed to level the playing field between them.
“I was sorry to hear of your mother’s death, Your Grace. I sent flowers to her funeral, though I understand if they were overlooked in the commotion of the day. It must’ve been awful losing someone you love.”
He nodded. “Yes, thank you. My family and I grieved her greatly, and there is now a yawning chasm in our lives that shall never be filled.”
A deep black hole of loneliness that she understood all too well.
“I never knew my parents,” she confessed. “I’m an orphan, you see, though my late father left me a comfortable legacy. At least, I think it was my father. Truthfully, I am not sure of my parentage.”
Aurelia was accustomed to people questioning her birth and whispering about her circumstances behind her back. The implication that she was illegitimate was nothing new, yet she chose not to dwell upon it, for she might never know the truth either way.
She might be a princess or she might be a foundling. All that mattered was that she treated others with dignity and respect and showed them the same level of kindness that she demanded in return.
The Duke of Brantingham grimaced at her admission.
“It’s a rare thing to be both an orphan and an heiress, Miss Goldsworthy.
You seem to have received a thorough education, and your deportment is excellent.
Why come to me with your hand out when you could live comfortably on your own? Surely, you don’t need a husband.”
“No, but I want one,” she replied, bristling, “and I didn’t come to you with my hand out.
I’ve managed perfectly well thus far, and you’re right that I don’t need anything—not from you or anyone else.
I came here because I wear your ring. I offered my hand only because yours was promised to me first! ”
He angled forward, nearly spilling his tea.
“I find nothing of my mother in any of this. The cards are a forgery. I didn’t write them.
I have no recollection of sending any gifts to anyone, and definitely no ring.
We are not betrothed. I’ve never even heard of you.
You are surely an illegitimate child looking to improve your station.
Dukes don’t marry—to put it kindly—girls without lineage. ”
Aurelia had never been so insulted in her life. If she’d held her cup and saucer in her hand, she might’ve slung them both at his arrogant face. Instead, she fought for composure. She had the bearing of a duchess even if she never wore the ermine robes.
“I came to you in good faith, Your Grace,” she said, rising from the sofa.
“I am not a schemer. My only crime is being a naive and lonely girl who gave her heart to the wrong man.” She reached into her reticule and produced the bundle of Christmas cards he’d sent her.
She threw them onto the Aubusson carpet at his feet.
“You may keep them or burn them, but if you read them, you’ll see they are very convincing. ”
The duke abandoned his teacup to retrieve the first card.
The illustration was simple but festive, and the words written inside were saccharine—precisely the sort of lovemaking guaranteed to turn a young lady’s head.
The coup de grace was, of course, his unmistakable scrawl at the bottom of the card.
His handsome face paled. One by one, he examined each card. He studied each signature until he’d been forced to admit the truth, “It seems I owe you an apology, Miss Goldsworthy. This is definitely my handwriting. If I didn’t know better, I would say it came directly from my desk.”
At last, the man saw reason! Yet her victory felt hollow, for someone somewhere was making sport of them both.
“Who would play such a cruel trick?” she asked, resuming her seat. She almost collapsed into the cushions, suddenly exhausted. “Taking advantage of me is one thing, but to make an enemy of a duke? Somebody was determined to cause trouble for you.”
“Worse, they sought to embroil you in it.” His Grace crossed the drawing room to place her cup and saucer into her hands, urging her to drink. She needed something to warm her bones, to give her fuel for the fight ahead.
She took a long sip of the milky, sweetened brew. “Could you imagine the scandal, Your Grace? I would forever be known as the orphaned creature who tried to catch a duke.”
He knelt before her, the legs of his grey trousers stretching taut across his long, muscular thighs as he begged for her forgiveness.
“I am sorry for what I said earlier. My words were unconscionable. It’s neither the behavior of a duke nor a gentleman to call a lady a liar, and I should never have accused you of being illegitimate. Your parentage is none of my concern.”
The Duke took her hand and held it in his. Had she been muddle-headed, Aurelia might’ve suspected a marriage proposal, yet they were too far past that now. “Please, Miss Goldsworthy, allow me to make it up to you.”
There was nothing he—or anyone—could do to make this right. She’d been duped, humiliated, and he’d witnessed it all. She carefully extricated her fingers from his. “I ought to go home.”
“Back to Cheltenham?” he asked, rising. He returned to his chair across from her. “It’s too late to travel now, as you won’t return home until well after dark. I assume you know no one in London?”
She shook her head. Sadly, she knew nobody outside of her own town.
“Then you must stay here at Brantingham House,” said the Duke. “You’ve already had your luggage sent here, and I have room enough to spare. You are welcome to spend Christmas with my family and me.”
When she opened her mouth to argue, he silenced her with a wave of his hand. “If you’re worried about propriety, my sisters will likely suffocate you from morning until night. They’re good girls, but…well, you went to a ladies' college, you understand what I mean, I’m sure.”
She imagined his sisters were lively and chatty, and would want to involve her in all manner of mischief and merrymaking. “Shall I be the Harriet Smith to their Emma Woodhouse?”
He balked and laughed. “Good Lord, I should hope not!”
The Duke of Brantingham had such a handsome smile. His laugh was deep and masculine, and strangely dignified. He had shown her his softer side when trying to rectify his ill-treatment of her. He was not a pushover, but he wasn’t afraid to admit that he’d been wrong.
What would be the harm of spending Christmas with the Charlton family? Besides, it wasn’t as if anything awaited her back home in Cheltenham. Aurelia did not wish to pass the festive season alone, and His Grace did owe her a good turn.
“Alright,” she answered with a smile. For once, she would know how it felt to celebrate with a family. “I’d be delighted to stay.”
***
Selwyn felt a wave of relief wash over him. He’d behaved badly toward her. Even if most of his kinfolk questioned why he’d invited her to join them at Brantingham House, his conscience wouldn’t allow him to abandon her.
Miss Goldsworthy had no family. Now she had no fiancé.
Only a cad would turn her out into the cold when she was likely feeling raw and vulnerable.
Despite his earlier conduct, Selwyn had not been brought up to treat women disrespectfully.
Mama would have been mortified to hear him insinuate that a guest in their home was illegitimate.
It was a cruel accusation for which he deserved to be slapped for making. Thankfully, Miss Goldsworthy had a generous capacity for forgiveness.
She looked up at him with warm, hazel eyes that set his heart at ease. She would enjoy his hospitality, befriend his siblings, and pass the Christmas holiday in a grand fashion. She would be the envy of all her friends, even if she never became a duchess.
“It’s settled, then,” he said, picking up his teacup.
He smiled at her over the rim, for she was beautiful, and it had been such a long time since he’d spent an hour in a lady’s company without a shroud of grief hanging over them.
Selwyn wished to prolong this pleasant interlude for as long as good manners allowed.
“You’re welcome to stay through the New Year, if Cheltenham can spare you. ”
Miss Goldsworthy grinned. “That’s a kind offer, Your Grace, but I imagine you’ll grow tired of me after nearly a fortnight. Let us stick to the week of Christmas before we set the tongues of London aflame.”
“Very sensible,” he said, for any young lady sheltering beneath his roof—regardless of her parentage—would be a target of gossip, jealousy, and possibly ire.
“Speaking of good sense, I think we ought to tell my brother and sisters about the hoax in case anyone should try anything with them. They must know to be on their toes.”
Her cheeks reddened, and her eyes went wide. “How mortifying for all of you!”
“Yes, for all of us,” said Selwyn. “We’re in this muddle together.”
Aurelia Goldsworthy had come to London with the expectation of finding a home, a husband, and a position in society waiting for her as arranged.
She’d been as embarrassed in all of this as he had, yet her reputation would never weather the scandal.
He was a duke, practically untouchable, and since taking up the coronet, had never put a foot wrong.
He owed Miss Goldsworthy his protection in this matter.
She put aside her cup and saucer. “I’m glad you no longer believe that I am a schemer, Your Grace. I’ve the utmost respect for your family and your position in society, and I would never behave in a way that would cause shame or distress to any of you.”
“I appreciate that,” he said, honestly. “We must be allies. Faced with a united front, whoever wishes us mischief won’t stand a chance.”
Selwyn crossed the carpet to pull the bell, summoning a servant. While they waited for a maid to direct her upstairs, he insisted that Miss Goldsworthy finish her tea. Mama had always claimed that full bellies made strong stomachs and steady hearts, and he carried that belief with him now.
No one went hungry under his roof, and neither of his sisters nor his aunts had ever swooned, even in the thickest of strife—it was a point of pride among the Charltons that they could always be counted upon to lay a good table and to keep their heads in a crisis.
“You’ll have supper with me?” he asked. “Unless you’d prefer to take a tray in your room…”
She stood and smoothed her verdigris skirts. She didn’t fuss or fidget, or even simper under the prospect of dining with a duke. Once situated, Miss Goldsworthy clasped her hands in perfect poise, as though such an invitation was her due.
She really was wonderfully, naturally well-behaved. He never sensed that she was putting on airs for the sake of fitting in. At any rate, it was only the two of them until his family arrived tomorrow. There was no one to impress—certainly, not him.
“I’d be delighted to dine with you, Your Grace.” Dipping into another beautiful curtsey, she followed the maid upstairs to settle into her new, temporary home.