A Duke of Her Own (7 page)

“A man who chooses wisely. Have you a prospect?”

“Possibly. I met her only last night. She seemed quite pleasant.”

“Pleasant?” Her brow furrowed in slight disapproval. “Pleasant is the manner in which I would describe an afternoon absent of rain.”

“I do not know her well enough to classify her any other way.”

“Do her interests mirror yours?”

“She will be free to pursue her own interests, so they need not mirror mine.”

“Did you ask after her interests?”

“No. They hardly signify. She is in pursuit of a title, and I’m in pursuit of money.”

“Ah, she is an American then.”

“Yes, Jenny Rose. She has a sister. Kate. But she did not seem as pleasant.”

“You spoke with her then?”

“No. I cannot explain why, but I had the impression she did not wish to have my attentions foisted upon her in the least.” He saw no reason to explain that it was Jenny’s desire for passion rather than Kate’s desire for love that had caused him to
narrow his choice to Jenny. He doubted his mother would approve.

“I can hardly credit any woman not wanting your attentions,” she said.

“I daresay I think it’s safe to say Lady Louisa felt the same way.”

“Lady Louisa Wentworth?”

“Yes.”

“Has she not married?”

“No.”

“Been a bit long on the vine, hasn’t she?”

“Apparently she has decided to pluck herself from it. She is serving as chaperone to the Rose sisters.”

“Interesting. I didn’t realize she was
that
old.”

“She’s not. But neither does she have a dowry. Therefore, her prospects for marriage are decidedly limited.”

“So she has decided to make herself a woman of independence. Good for her.” She brought the flowers to her face, sniffed the bouquet, and closed her eyes as though lost in memories. She often seemed to drift off to another time, another place, a memory that sustained her during difficult times. In truth he was surprised they’d bantered as long as they had before she lost interest. When she opened her eyes, they had a faraway look in them. “Perhaps Caroline could become a chaperone.”

“Lady Louisa has an entrance into society. Caroline has none, not until I give her one. Wealth at
my disposal will ensure that the process goes much more smoothly. I do not expect her to marry a man of rank, but certainly she is good enough for some lord’s younger son.”

His mother flinched.

“I apologize,” he said quickly. “My choice of wording was poor. She is worthy of a king, but unfortunately the reality is that a king will not have her.”

“Except in the stories you created for her when she was a child.”

“It was a world of make-believe, never meant to give her hope, and yet I fear that it did. Sometimes it is as if she truly believes she is a princess.” He studied her for a moment, wondering if she might at least admit what he suspected—that her father might indeed be royalty.

“She is our princess,” his mother said. “Still, I cannot help but wonder if Caroline wouldn’t be happier with a young man from the village.”

“Would you have been?” he dared to ask.

His mother rubbed the petal of a lily between her thumb and forefinger. “Happiness eludes cowards. I was a woman unwilling to give up what I valued for what I treasured.” She lifted her gaze to his. “What do you treasure?”

“Nothing I do not value. My heritage, my obligations, and my vow to my father. I shall honor them all at any cost.”

“And if the cost is
your
happiness?”

“I shall pay it without regret.”

“Regret only comes in hindsight, my love.”

“Do you have regrets, Mother?” he asked somberly.

Giving him a determined smile, she reached up and cradled his cheek. “None that is impossible to live with.”

He swallowed hard. “Was her father married to another?”

She squeezed his chin. “This is a subject we have agreed not to discuss.”

“I agreed to nothing. I have a right to know.”

“No, my love, you don’t. Caroline has a right to know, and should she ask, I will tell her.” She patted his cheek. “Don’t look so disgruntled. Tell me more about this American girl who has caught your fancy. Will you have much competition for her?”

“It matters not. I will do whatever I deem necessary in order to have her as my wife.”

“S
o you’re the chaperone.”

Louisa spun around. A gentleman was leaning casually against the wall, one foot crossed over the other, his arms folded across his chest. His hair was dark, his eyes…some dark color, she thought, but couldn’t properly identify from this distance.

She’d come to the conservatory, only to discover no one else had yet arrived. “Yes, Jenny said you wouldn’t mind if I attended the art lesson.”

“I don’t mind at all.”

He was clearly American and very well dressed for an artist. His trousers and jacket were finely tailored, fitting him as though each stitch had been sewn precisely for him. She supposed that
Mr. Rose was paying him as handsomely as he was paying her.

“Did you travel with the family from America?” she dared to ask.

A corner of his mouth hitched up as though he found both her and her question rather amusing. “Couldn’t avoid it, I’m afraid.”

“You didn’t want to come?”

He shrugged, shoved himself away from the wall. “Lady Louisa, is it?”

She smiled. “You have me at a disadvantage, sir. I’m afraid Jenny didn’t tell me the name of her art teacher.”

“His name would be Applewhite.”

Her heart kicked against her ribs as understanding began to dawn. “You are not the art teacher?”

His grin grew as he bowed his head slightly. “I must confess to not having an artistic bone in my entire body. Allow me the honor of introducing myself. Jeremy Rose.”

“Ah.” She could see the resemblance now, a younger, slimmer version of the older Mr. Rose, before his dark hair had begun to turn silver, and responsibilities had carved deep lines into his face. She hoped she wasn’t blushing too profusely. “I didn’t realize there was a son.”

“I’m not often spoken of.” He leaned toward her slightly. “Black sheep, and all that.”

“I’m sure it was simply an oversight—”

“Oh, I’m sure it was intentional.”

He removed a silver case from inside his jacket pocket, opened it, removed a cigarette, and went
about lighting it. She was fascinated watching him. She’d never seen a gentleman smoke before. It was something they did in rooms where no ladies were present. She’d always thought it would be something wicked to observe. Instead she found herself slightly disappointed by the sight, and not overly fond of the aroma that wafted around him. She wondered if Hawkhurst smoked. Would Jenny find the habit offensive?

“So how is the husband hunting going?” the young Mr. Rose asked, interrupting her thoughts. “Any prospects for my dear sisters?”

“We have quite a few prospects. The challenge is to narrow them down.”

He inhaled, blew out the smoke, and seemed to take great interest in watching the end of his cigarette burn.

“Perhaps once you’ve married off my sisters, you can help me find a wife.”

“Are you in the market?”

He laughed. “Not really, but I’d welcome any excuse to be in the company of such a lovely lady as yourself.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You are toying with me, sir.”

“A bit perhaps. I understand you were properly chastised for dancing last night.”

“Where did you hear such gossip?”

“From my mother. She was quite miffed.”

“I assure you it will not happen again.”

“Oh, it’ll happen again.” He winked at her. “I plan to attend the next ball.”

She hardly knew what to say. Before she could argue further, Jenny waltzed into the room, her eyes alighting at the sight of her brother. “Jeremy! When did you arrive?”

She immediately snatched the cigarette from his fingers, and to Louisa’s astonishment, took a long pull on it before tipping her head back and releasing the smoke. Her action seemed somehow quite elegant yet unladylike at the same time.

“In the early hours of the morning,” Jeremy said.

“I missed you,” Jenny said.

“Missed my smokes more like it,” he said.

She laughed before taking another puff. “Lady Louisa, you look scandalized.”

“I’ve never before seen a lady smoke.”

“I only do it when Jeremy is home. Mother thinks he’s a bad influence.”

“I am a bad influence,” he said, completely unabashedly, taking the cigarette from his sister while winking again at Louisa.

“Are you flirting with Lady Louisa?” Jenny asked.

“I’ve asked her to save me a dance at the next ball.”

“Mama doesn’t approve of Lady Louisa leaving us
untended,
” Kate said from the doorway, and Louisa wondered how long she’d been standing there and why it was that she never seemed to notice her.

“Which will make it all the more fun,” Jeremy said. He dropped his cigarette to the floor and
crushed it beneath a very polished and obviously expensively made shoe.

“How was the Continent?” Kate asked.

“Quite fascinating. Paris, Rome, Berlin, Stockholm, I enjoyed them all.”

“Can you imagine being able to travel when you wanted, where you wanted, without any encumbrances or people constantly watching your every move?” Kate asked, and Louisa wondered if she was hinting at a fault with her chaperone.

“Don’t be so concerned, Lady Louisa,” Jenny said. “She’s always envied the freedom men are given.”

“It’s hardly fair,” Kate said.

Jeremy reached out and tweaked her nose. “Life never is, little sister.”

“Jeremy, are you going to join us for our art lesson?” Jenny asked.

“Good God, no. I just wanted to make the acquaintance of Lady Louisa—”

“And cause a bit of mischief while you’re at it?” Jenny asked.

“Of course. What is life without a bit of mischief?” He bowed slightly. “Lady Louisa, it was my pleasure to make your acquaintance. Don’t forget that you’ve promised me a dance.”

“I did no such thing,” she blurted. “Your mother is quite right. I should not be dancing.”

“We shall see.”

He walked from the conservatory before she could say anything else. It seemed American sons
were no easier to deal with than American daughters.

It was really quite thrilling to have the opportunity to apply watercolors to canvas. Louisa had always enjoyed sketching, but her parents had never been able to afford for her to have proper lessons. She thought she could stand within the conservatory all day testing out this medium, which was new to her.

“Oh, Lady Louisa, I do believe you’re a natural,” Jenny said.

Their lesson was to paint a vase of roses. Louisa had painted a single rose.

“The dew drop is a lovely touch, don’t you think, Kate?” Jenny asked.

Kate looked up from her book. “One would never know that you hadn’t taken lessons before.”

“I never think to add anything extra to mine,” Jenny said. “I paint only what I see. Does that make me boring, do you think?”

“Of course not,” Louisa said hastily.

“What do you think, Mr. Applewhite? Am I your only student who paints exactly what she sees?”

“At least you paint,” he said, giving Kate a stern look. He was extremely thin and very short for a man. Louisa actually stood a head taller than he.

Kate stuck out her tongue and turned her attention back to her book, which she’d been reading the entire time instead of painting.

“You see why I said it would be fine if you
came,” Jenny said. “Papa pays for two lessons, and one is wasted.”

“I don’t like painting,” Kate said.

“Or playing the piano,” Jenny said. “Or embroidery. Or penning letters. None of the things that a young lady is expected to do.” She looked at Louisa. “I don’t know how you’ll manage to find a husband for her.”

“She won’t,” Kate said.

“I’m sure—” Louisa began.

“Remember, my requirement is love,” Kate interrupted, finally looking away from her book. “I absolutely refuse to marry without love.”

“And how do you judge love?” Louisa asked.

“If you have to ask, then you have never been loved.”

“Kate!” Jenny admonished, but the damage had been done.

Louisa felt the sharp sting to her pride, the brutal flaying of her heart. “No,” she said quietly. “If I do not count my father or my brother, then I have never known the love of a gentleman. Am I to assume that you have?”

Kate looked back at her book. “Assume what you wish.”

“Kate, you have no reason to be difficult with Lady Louisa,” Jenny said. “She doesn’t deserve your ill temper.”

Kate looked up, regret laced over her face. “I apologize. It is my heart that judges love. It sets no boundaries, sets out no requirements. It is like calling to like, and it recognizes love without
consulting me. My heart beats harder and faster when it encounters love, and it quite simply leaves me breathless. I have known love and lost love. And I will not be content with any man incapable of giving me the full measure of his heart.”

Louisa hardly knew how to respond to such a heartfelt declaration. What would it be like to have the full measure of a man’s heart?

“You think I expect too much,” Kate said.

“I think”—Louisa forced herself to smile bravely, a soldier suddenly terrified of the unknown—“you have presented me with a challenge that I shall not take lightly. I shall find a gentleman who is capable of loving as deeply as you require.”

Kate smiled, the first true smile Louisa had ever received from her, and it transformed the usual harshness of her features, which tended to resemble her mother’s, into the kindness that was more fitting of her father. “I shan’t hold you to that promise, Lady Louisa. I know you’re in as difficult a spot as Jenny and me when it comes to pleasing our mother.”

“Still, I shall try.”

“Well, then,” Jenny said brightly, “perhaps I should detail what I want when it comes to passion.”

“I’ll wager you want a well-shaped mouth, skilled hands, and a firm body,” Kate said.

Jenny laughed. “You’re not far off.”

Mr. Applewhite cleared his throat. Louisa had fairly forgotten that he was there.

“Mr. Applewhite, I think our lessons are over for the afternoon,” Jenny said.

“Thank you, Miss Jenny. I do have another student waiting on my arrival, and I’m certain she won’t mind my arriving early.” He gathered up his satchel and walked out of the room.

“He is such a snob,” Kate said.

“And Mama’s spy,” Jenny said. “You do realize he will report every word spoken.”

“I don’t think we said anything too untoward,” Louisa said.

“Miss Jenny?”

They all turned to see the butler standing in the doorway, holding a silver salver.

“Oh, we have a caller,” Jenny said, smiling brightly, picking up the card. “And my word, if it isn’t the Duke of Hawkhurst anxious to make his mark upon our day. Show him to the conservatory.” She glanced over at Louisa. “That’s all right, isn’t it? This will be a perfect place to showcase our talent.”

“Your talent,” Kate said, getting to her feet. “I have no interest in the duke. If you’ll excuse me…”

“Don’t tell Mother he’s here,” Jenny ordered. “I don’t want her involved yet.”

“Because she’ll have you wed before the week is out?”

“Because, in spite of her best intentions, she will frighten the man away.”

“The duke has never struck me as a man easily frightened,” Louisa said.

“Then let’s say she will dim his enthusiasm.”

“I shall not breathe a word of his arrival,” Kate promised, before waltzing out of the room.

Louisa stepped back from her easel. “We should put this somewhere,” she said inanely, referring to her own work, not certain why she was suddenly so very self-conscious that someone might look upon her poor efforts.

“Why?” Jenny asked.

Louisa tried to think of a polite way to say—

“Because mine is so hideous?”

“It’s not hideous,” Louisa said quickly. “It’s…it’s…” She furrowed her brow.

“Hideous,” Jenny repeated.

“I’m not certain you were trying.”

“Oh, I was trying. I simply have no talent.”

“We should tell the duke that this one is yours,” Louisa said, pointing to her own work.

“Don’t be ridiculous. We Americans may have the reputation of being spoiled, but we don’t take credit for what we don’t achieve ourselves.”

They heard footsteps, and Jenny turned. Louisa could only see her profile, but she could see enough to know the lady was smiling warmly.

“Your Grace,” Jenny said, with a well-executed curtsy. “How nice of you to pay a visit this afternoon.”

He bowed slightly. “Miss Rose. Lady Louisa.”

A time existed when he would have addressed Louisa first, a time before she’d put on the mantle of chaperone.

“Your Grace,” Louisa said. “Perhaps we should
adjourn to the garden, where we might have some refreshments.”

“Oh, not until he’s seen our efforts. Do you paint, Your Grace?” Jenny asked.

“No, I’m afraid I have no talent when it comes to art.”

Jenny laughed lightly. “Neither do I. But Lady Louisa is another matter entirely. Come. Tell me what you think of her work.”

“Oh, the duke has no time for nor interest in—”

“I’m very interested,” he said quietly. “While I may have no talent myself, I’m always in awe of those who do.”

Holding his hat in his hand, he walked over until he stood before her canvas. His scent wafted toward her: sandalwood. And something more masculine. He had the scent of a man who had been riding, and she wondered if he’d come by horse rather than carriage.

He seemed to be staring a rather long time.

“It’s a rose,” she blurted, suddenly very self-conscious of his perusal. She wasn’t accustomed to sharing her drawings. They were her guilty pleasure.

A corner of his mouth hitched up. “Yes, I can see that.”

“I’ve never had lessons before,” she said, feeling a need to justify the less-than-perfect rendition of a rose that she’d created. All of its flaws were suddenly so glaringly obvious.

“Indeed? One would never know by looking.”

“Is that a compliment?”

“No. My compliment is that it is astonishingly good.”

“Astonishingly good? So you were taken by surprise? You did not expect it to be good?”

He turned his head, his gaze homing in on hers. “I did not expect to take such pleasure from gazing upon it.”