Chapter 2
CHAPTER 2
“ T he last two who are willing to be seen with you, you mean?” Lady Hollowton joked.
“Oh, don’t say that, Em.” Mark Egerton, the Duke of Guildford, chuckled as he swept in and gave his sister a kiss on the cheek. “There are at least three… maybe four others here. Surely, I’m not that detestable?”
“Being a duke certainly helps.”
“Ha!” Mark shook his head. “You’re lucky it’s your wedding day, otherwise I’d say something really mean right now.” He looked past his sister and found Lord Hollowton in the crowd. “Something about your husband, and how glad I am that for today at least he’s managed to remove the stick from up his—”
“Mark!” Emily cried and widened her eyes at him in warning.
He grinned back. “Just joshing, my dear. Just joshing.” He leaned in and gave her another kiss on the cheek. “And again, you look truly beautiful. Our mother and father would have been so proud.”
Emily pretended to be dismissive, but the way her cheeks flushed was all the indication that Mark needed to know that she appreciated the comment. He liked to joke around with his sister, but she knew as much as anyone that when it came to her happiness, this marriage especially, he couldn’t have been more supportive.
“And Miss Barrington?” Emily prompted, indicating to Miss Barrington, who stood beside her.
Mark turned slightly, fixing his gaze on Miss Barrington for the first time. He knew her too, of course, and had for most of her young life. Her being close friends with his younger sister was the reason for this, and although they weren’t friends per se, they were indeed friendly to one another. In a fashion.
“And Miss Barrington.” Mark took Miss Barrington’s soft hand and kissed the back of it. “How long has it been?”
Miss Barrington looked at him dryly. “Nearly three years, although I do wish it was longer.”
He smirked and kissed the back of her hand again. “And I must say, these last three years have clearly served you well. If the bride wasn’t standing right next to me, I’d tell you that you are the most ravishing woman I’ve ever seen.”
Miss Barrington curled her lip and pulled her hand free. “Lucky that the bride is here, then. I’d hate for you to lie on my account.”
“No lies.” Mark chuckled. “And between you and me…” He raised a hand, pretending to cut his sister out. “I don’t even think she looks that good—” He suddenly yelped, for his sister slapped him. “I was joking, Em.”
“You’re being an idiot,” Emily grunted.
“What were you expecting?” Miss Barrington drawled.
“Exactly,” Mark joined in. “I’ve spent twenty-one years insulting you at every chance I got. Why should today be any different?”
Emily fixed him with a rueful glare, and where it looked as if she was preparing to respond with a well-aimed barb—for which she was known—something caught her attention suddenly from just over his shoulder. Her face dropped, and she groaned.
“What is it?” Mark spun about in search.
“Nothing,” she insisted. “But I have to…” She eyed whatever it was for a moment and then nodded. “I have to go.” She took Miss Barrington by both hands and gave them a squeeze. “Thank you so much for coming.”
“I’m sorry I was late,” Miss Barrington said.
“Not at all, not at all. And I’ll come back a little later on.” Emily’s lip curled. “Once I’m finished being passed around. Probably not until after we finish eating.”
“It’s not just your day,” Miss Barrington joked. “It’s everybody else’s.”
Emily groaned. “It’s going to be a long morning.” She then looked at Mark and raised a warning eyebrow. “Behave.”
“Me?!” He touched his chest as if offended.
She shook her head, offered Miss Barrington another smile, and then darted into the crowd, her eyes set on something or someone, but Mark couldn’t see who exactly.
“I’ve always found weddings funny like that,” he mused as he watched his sister go.
“Funny like what?” Miss Barrington asked.
“That somehow it can be both the best and worst day of one’s life. I mean, if you had only seen the way Emily’s been acting this past week…” He forced a shudder. “You’d think today was her funeral, the stress she’s been under.”
“And if I know you, then I’m sure that you did everything in your power to make things worse.”
Mark smiled and turned back to Miss Barrington. “Now, why would you say something like that?”
She shrugged. “Because I know you, is why? Or, don’t tell me…” She pretended to study him a moment. “These last few years have forced you to grow up suddenly? Seeing your sister become engaged has made you realize that there’s more to life than living in a perpetual state of rakedom?”
“Rakedom? Is that even a word?”
“I invented it just now.” Another casual shrug. “Somehow, I find it rather fitting.”
Had it really been three years? Mark owned a residence on the outskirts of London, and he was there often. But the last few years had seen him travel north frequently for work, so he just wasn’t around as much.
Regardless, it might have been three years since he and Miss Barrington had seen one another, but he was delighted to find that nothing had changed between them. Ever since she had been a little girl, and he a young lad, they had been known to bicker and argue and make the other bristle just because they could, because it had been fun and easy and without consequence.
He took a step back and looked Miss Barrington over properly, surprised now to notice that his comments earlier were closer to the mark than he’d been expecting. Miss Barrington had always been attractive, and he’d always thought her pretty, but three years without having seen her and ‘attractive’ felt like a rather mundane way of describing how radiant she was.
Her hair was dark blonde and worn in ringlets. She had bright green eyes that were as big as they were innocent-looking, but with a fire behind them that suggested if one got too close, they might be burned. Her face was round, but her features were sharp. Her lips were plump, and her body… She wore a soft pink gown, tight around the waist with a low neckline that showed her collarbone and the top of her chest. It heaved and struggled in the confines of the garment, and it was only just now that Mark noticed just how curvy she was.
“What are you looking at?” she snapped.
Mark blinked and met her gaze. “Your dress,” he said earnestly. “It’s lovely.”
Miss Barrington’s cheeks flushed, but she quickly got ahold of herself and forced her eyes to narrow on him. “Why?”
“Why what?”
“What do you really mean? Unless this is the first time ever you’ve decided to pay me a compliment, without it being paired next to an insult. With a side-serving of sarcasm to round it all out.”
“Oh, I’m not that bad.” He laughed.
“Worse,” she said rightly.
Miss Barrington was surely being hyperbolic. His sister too. While they might have pretended that Mark had some seedy reputation, which they were best to avoid, the truth was that his lack of a reputation was the only stink that followed him about.
Mark was a duke. It was a title that had belonged to his father until he passed away when Mark had been just eight. At that time, his uncle had taken over running the dukedom until Mark was old enough, and understood enough, to manage it himself, which was now some seven years ago. Those last seven years had seen Mark grow into the man he liked to think his father would be proud of. A good brother to his sister. As hard a worker as he there was. And certainly not the type of man who slept around—definitely not a rake.
But he was also unmarried, and very much so. In fact, since becoming a duke, Mark had courted less than three women, and even those had been more flights of fancy than anything real. And it wasn’t that he was opposed to the concept per se, it was just that he didn’t see the point of marrying because everyone thought he must. He wanted to fall in love and wed, as was his right. He just wanted it to be for the right reasons, with the right woman.
Unfortunately, the ton was nowhere near that subtle. They saw a duke without a wife on his arm and assumed it must be because he preferred to sleep around and bed as many women as he could. This assumption turned to rumors, which were now facts, as far as most were concerned.
It was funny that Miss Barrington was the one pointing this out because as he now remembered it, he’d heard a few things about her also.
“I was speaking with your mother earlier,” he started, smirking casually and rubbing his chin.
“Oh?”
“She’s still as intense as I remember her being.” He laughed. “But I should be thanking you.”
“And, why is that?” She narrowed her eyes as if she could sense the insult coming.
“Because, while I worried that she might have chosen to focus on my fledging love life, it seems that you’re even more desperate than I am.” His eyes flashed, and her expression darkened. “The way she says it, she’s considering asking the stable hand next if he’s interested, seeing as there are no men left in London good enough for you.”
“What?” she growled, actually growled, at him!
Mark shrugged. “A shame too. You see, I can get away with not being married. It really isn’t that much of a bother. But you, Miss Barrington?” He shook his head and clicked his tongue. “What would your grandmother say?”
Mark knew it was the wrong thing as soon as he said it. Faint memories of Miss Barrington’s grandmother—and her desperate desire to see her granddaughter wed—had come to mind suddenly, and he’d pounced on the remark, thinking it might be funny. But they weren’t children anymore, and sometimes, he needed to remember that.
“I…” Miss Barrington’s face dropped, and her chin began to wobble. “I have to—my mother—” She looked about suddenly, came to a decision, and then powered away.
“Wait!” Mark called after her. “Miss Barrington! Wait!”
Guilt flooded him, and he spun about to give chase. By then, she’d vanished in the crowd, and he was left searching, unable to spot her, feeling like a horse’s backside for what he had just said.
Augustina was furious with herself. Why did she let him get to her like that?! Why did she even care? It was just Mark—His Grace, is what she meant. A man whom she had known for so long that she was still in the habit of using his first name as if they were still children. They had grown up teasing one another, and she shouldn’t have expected anything less.
This time, it had felt different. It shouldn’t have, but it simply had. He had crossed a line that he hadn’t known existed. Augustina had almost broken down in front of him because of it, and to save face, she’d fled without so much as a word.
Was she embarrassed? A little. Did she care? More than she should have.
Head down, she swerved through the crowded hall, paying the other guests little real attention as she made for the edges. The guests were slowly starting to find their way to their tables, and she figured she might find a nice corner seat out of the way where no one would see her.
Also, there was less chance of the Duke finding her that way.
She still wasn’t sure why she cared so much about what he thought of her. As said, they were old friends, and she still saw him as such. She did! It might have been a few years since she had seen him, and she might have forgotten how big and brawny he was… how dark his hair and eyes were… how deep his voice was. But he was still the same person, so none of that should have mattered.
It was just what he had said that had rattled her. It could have been said by anyone, and the result would be the same. When it came to her grandmother, Augustina was somewhat sensitive, and being at this wedding sure wasn’t helping!
Her grandmother wanted to see her married. That was all she wanted. Eighty-five years old, very sick, and very much in her final months, she had said time and time again that all she wanted before she died was to see Augustina betrothed and happy. And Augustina, loving her grandmother as much as her own mother, if not more, would do anything for her. Anything.
That even included getting married. Although once again, and despite what Emily might have claimed, Augustina wanted it to be to the right man. That, she was sure, would make her grandmother even happier.
“Augustina!” a shrill cry suddenly sounded from Augustina’s immediate right. “Here!”
Augustina came to a sudden halt as her mother’s voice registered. A shudder ran up her spine, and she took a deep breath while she chastised herself for not paying attention. She was supposed to have been spending the day avoiding her mother, but she’d been so wrapped up with thoughts of the Duke and her grandmother that she’d completely forgotten.
“Over here, thank you!” Lady Newsbury called again.
Slowly, Augustine turned around, spotting her mother immediately.
Lady Newsbury was a petite woman, even compared to her daughter, but they shared the same dark blonde hair and round face with sharp features. She was standing less than fifteen feet away, hovering by a table that was slowly being filled with foodstuffs by the footmen.
“Well?” she asked, wide-eyed. She then indicated to the man with whom she was standing. “Will you come and say hello, dear?” She shook her head and looked at the man. “I’m sorry, I think she’s a little overwhelmed. Good friends with the bride.”
“Ah, I see.” The man chuckled. “Not to worry, perfectly understandable.”
He was the Baron of Chesterfield, an acquaintance of Lady Newsbury’s, and a man whom Augustina knew to be earmarked for her hand in marriage. He was at least thirty-five years old, slightly chubby but with a handsome face and a thick head of blonde hair. His cheeks were rosy-pink, his smile was all teeth, and he had a weird habit of rubbing his belly whenever he spoke.
With no choice, Augustina approached her mother and the Baron. “How do you do, Lord Chesterfield.” She offered a small curtsey.
“It is a pleasure as always, Miss Barrington.” The Baron took her hand and gave the back of it a wet kiss. “Your mother was just speaking of you.”
“Nothing sinister, I promise,” Lady Newsbury squawked. “I was just telling him of your interest in reading. She’s very inquisitive.” She took hold of the Baron’s arm assuredly. “She’s been through our entire library at least a dozen times.”
“Mother…” Augustina sighed, trying to catch her mother’s gaze so she could warn her off whatever she was planning.
“Is that right?” Lord Chesterfield chortled. “It sounds like you need a new library to pillage through. You know, the library at my manor has over two hundred books.”
“Two hundred?” Lady Newsbury gasped and looked at Augustina. “Isn’t the something, dear?”
“It really is,” Augustina responded flatly. She then smiled at Lord Chesterfield. “Have you read them all?”
“Good gracious, no.” He chuckled dismissively. “But, you… I’m sure that I could arrange for you to have a browse sometime. It would be an honor.”
“It’s all right,” Augustina said with a friendly smile. “There’s no need, really. I’d hate for you to have to part with any of them.”
“Augustina!” Lady Newsbury hissed. She snatched the Baron’s arm back and looked at him. “She’s just joking, of course. She’d love a chance to take a look. Perhaps the two of you can arrange something?” She fixed a glare on Augustina. “I insist.”
Was Emily right? Did Augustina need to give being courted a chance, even if it was by a man whom she had no desire for whatsoever? Was it, in fact, likely that someone like Lord Chesterfield might grow on her, and that one day she could see it in herself to love him? Was that how love worked?
Augustina had no idea what to do. And not about Lord Chesterfield, but her life. Everything! Despite what people said, she wanted to meet the right man, fall desperately in love with him, and then get married. How could she not? But she also didn’t want to force it. She didn’t want to settle.
What she needed was time. Time to find the right man. Time to figure out what courtship and romance and love actually meant. Time to create a life that she wanted to live, not one her mother thought she must.
Unfortunately for Augustina, time was something she was nearly out of. She’d have no choice but to visit Lord Chesterfield’s manor and likely spend the day with him. But if not him, it would be another, and another, and another. Any man her mother could find, any man who might save her from a life spent alone. For that, as far as everyone seemed to be concerned, was the worst of things.