Chapter 2 #2
“I am sorry, Aunt Beatrice,” Louisa apologized humbly.
“I was so angry outside when the Duke of Northwick raised all that dust and I heard you coughing. Still, he should have been more careful… Oh, Seraphine, I apologize to you too, for he is your guest, and is to be our escort. I hope this will not ruin our journey together.”
“Not at all,” laughed Seraphine, to Louisa’s surprise. “His Grace, the Duke of Northwick does not stand on ceremony. Likely, he respects you all the more now for being one of the rare people to hold him to account. He gets away with far too much…”
“What do you mean?” asked Louisa, uncomprehending, and then feeling her ire rise again as Lady Esher loudly cleared her throat, making her wonder whether the older lady was more affected by the dust than she claimed.
“I mean only that you have done nothing wrong, Louisa,” her cousin reassured her, patting her arm. “That is all.”
“Did someone say that rather reckless young man’s Christian name is Benedict?” broke in Aunt Beatrice, with a twinkle in her eyes. “Benedict. Now, where have I heard that name before?”
Louisa groaned and laughed at the same time, realizing that she was about to be teased mercilessly by her relatives but thinking it better than being scolded.
“Oh, no, Aunt. He could not be more different. I beg you, do not…”
“Tall, dark and handsome. Riding on a white stallion. The noblest knight in Christendom. A warrior, a lover and poet - did he sing and dance too? I seem to remember a girl who once swore to me that she would marry a man exactly fitting that description.”
“I remember poring with you over that book, Louisa,” added Seraphine with a smile. “You read it so many times, I think you must have known it by heart.”
Likely, Louisa did know that book by heart. Its story had certainly formed her character, her dreams and her ambitions…
While Lady Esher had launched Louisa into society at Harrogate and Bath at the age of eighteen, the young woman had never met a young man who could measure up to her hero and saw social engagements more as duty than pleasure.
As for the London Season and the beaux of the ton, they barely touched her consciousness.
If she was fated to marry, then she would meet her husband in due course. Seraphine had found her true love and that gave Louisa hope for a time. If her destiny was otherwise, however, she would remain single and care for Aunt Beatrice in her old age. It seemed no great hardship for Louisa.
“I was only thirteen then,” Louisa murmured, although her cheeks still grew warm at the memory of Sir Benedict Palmer and his love for Lady Elizabeth. “Do not remind me! Anyway, your Benedict is a duke, Seraphine, not a knight.”
“That is even better, surely,” giggled her cousin and then seemed to notice Louisa’s downcast expression.
“Oh, dear, Louisa. I hope I have not offended you. I was only teasing. The Duke of Northwick is a good sort of man really, at least once he is away from London. He is quite wonderful with Fanny and Ezra, although he affects not to like children.”
Lady Esher put an arm around Louisa’s shoulders.
“There, my dear. We shall not tease you any more, and you need not worry about His Grace, the Duke of Northwick, whatever his Christian name might be. I knew his mother once upon a time, and I remember how proud she was of her son. He cannot have changed so very much.”
“Exactly as you say, Aunt Beatrice. You must ignore whatever the scandal sheets claim, Louisa. Benedict will be the perfect gentleman with you and the children, I am sure.”
“What do the scandal sheets claim?” asked Louisa, entirely unaware, her own reading largely directed towards novels and poetry, and occasionally more worthy literature whenever she received a letter from her old governess and felt guilty.
“Ah, I forgot that you don’t read such things at Rosemere Hall, Louisa. I’m afraid that Damien and I like to laugh at them over breakfast. It is a bad habit, but living so close to London, it is an easy one to fall into. Never mind.”
“This isn’t getting us ready for luncheon, is it?” pronounced Aunt Beatrice, opening the night-case on her bed and taking out hair brushes and wash-bag. “Shall I brush your hair, Louisa?”
Sitting at the dressing table while her aunt brushed her honey-gold curls and Seraphine chattered happily of her upcoming visit to Scotland with her husband, Louisa’s mind wandered back to that confrontation on the drive with this new Benedict.
He had been in the wrong, hadn’t he? She might have been too vociferous but she had been justified.
Louisa’s pulse throbbed strongly again as she once more pictured the Duke of Northwick galloping up to her on the drive. What was this strange sensation he excited in her? Annoyance, anxiousness…or something entirely new? Likely she would find out during their long journey north together.
At this thought, Louisa swallowed hard.
“Good Lord, what were you thinking, Benedict?” chided Damien as the two dukes walked together to the boot room. “I told you that the old lady had been ill and you try to choke her with dust the moment she arrives!”
“It wasn’t intentional,” Benedict defended himself as he pulled off his riding boots and tossed them onto a rack for the boot-boy to polish.
“I saw Lady Esher’s carriage coming along the main road and thought to take a short cut back through the woods to avoid being late. I was intending to be polite.”
Damien snorted at this explanation.
“You could have pulled Apollo up by the bushes and dismounted there like a civilized person. There was no need to gallop onto the drive and pull up so fast right next to us."
“I didn’t mean to go so fast,” added the Duke of Northwick, pushing back the dusty locks of dark hair that were presently falling across his forehead. “I suppose I was distracted when I saw…”
Here, Benedict stopped abruptly and checked himself. Yes, he had been unexpectedly distracted by something but he did not want to admit the cause of this distraction to Damien, nor really to himself.
“Don’t tell me you were showing off for the ladies, Benedict,” commented Damien scathingly. “I can tell you now that neither Lady Esher nor Lady Louisa looked very impressed by your exploits.”
“Don’t I know it?” chuckled Benedict, the two men now returning together along the corridor towards the front of the house again. “Lady Louisa already took me severely to task so you need not do it yourself.”
“Sweet little cousin Louisa scolded you?” queried Damien with a smile. “My, my, that does show the greatness of your transgression. She is normally the sweetest tempered of women. You may have the privilege of being the first man to arouse her temper.”
“Oh?” returned Benedict, turning away slightly as he felt his face flush and his jaw tighten at something in his friend’s casual words.
He exhaled slowly, trying to make sense of his own reactions to the newcomers.
First, Benedict had been wildly distracted by that first sight of a pretty face, neat figure and honey-gold curls, almost to the extent that he had neglected to slow or stop his horse in good time.
Now, Damien’s jibes about his effect upon Lady Louisa were sparking an unwanted warmth in his blood.
Did Benedict actually like the idea of teasing Lady Louisa into a temper..? That would not do at all. He knew where such games led, even if she did not.
“I shall endeavor to behave better on our journey north,” Benedict assured his friend sincerely. “The two ladies shall have no further cause for complaint against me.”