The Duke Conspiracy Read online

  “My mother was so disappointed with my lack of success in my first season. She thought I could use the extra exposure of the Little Season. I believe she thought there would be less competition as some ladies do not come to Town for the Fall Session but most of the lords who need to be present for Parliament do, thus giving me more selection.”

  “Your mother is a shrewd strategist.”

  “I believe all determined mamas are,” answered the duke's dance companion, “but it would seem that many of the mamas had the exact same strategy. If you will note, this ball is barely less crowded than one would experience during the regular Season.”

  “'Tis true, my lady, but one could attribute that to the popularity of Lady Chorney as a hostess, rather than the number of people who have come to Town for the Fall Session.”

  “She is quite lovely, is she not? Do you know the Chorneys very well, Your Grace?” Elizabeth was glad to change the subject.

  “Not that well, but I have been their guest a couple of times as well as hearing the viscount speak in the House upon occasion.”

  “Last Season I was a guest at the most darling breakfast Lady Catherine hosted. We dined al fresco, which was a novel experience for me as my mama tends to think it is unhealthy. I thought it was divine.”

  “It does sound novel. Were you not cold?”

  “It was near the end of the Season, so we were quite comfortable. It was absolutely lovely despite the challenge of getting ready for a ton event so early in the morning. Most of the assembled guests were not used to seeing the day much before noon. I do believe that was part of the amusement, watching how everyone tried to hide the evidence of their excesses from the previous night.”

  “You do have a perverse sense of humor, do you not?” the duke commented with a wry chuckle.

  “Oh, that is exactly what my dear friend Rosamund tells me every time,” declared Lady Elizabeth with a smile, causing a sudden hitch in Alex's breathing. “Would I have met this Rosamund?” Alex asked tactfully, feeling his heart race in reaction as he thought of his old friend, forcing his eyes not to stray to the side of the ballroom where he was sure she was standing. He could hardly fathom his constant awareness of her. Controlling his reaction, he carried on the conversation as though he were unaffected. “She sounds like a sensible woman,” he teased.

  “I do not know if you have met her, she has never mentioned you. Not that I have known her for all that long, mind you, and we rarely discuss gentlemen, particularly not dukes,” she replied pertly before elaborating. “She was not out before she went away to Vienna with her parents. She is just making her debut now, even though she is a trifle old to be a debutante. She is a delightful girl. We enjoy making fun of the Season together. She is finding it nearly as dull as I am, although I believe it is for far different reasons. She says life in London is not nearly as exciting as it was in Vienna, where she has been for the past two years with her father, who is a diplomat.”

  Lady Elizabeth paused for a moment as she gazed at the duke with rapidly widening eyes. Her mouth fell agape before she shut it with a snap. After swallowing a gulp of air she continued in far different tones. “Of course you know Miss Rosamund, how silly of me,” she prattled as she tried to change the subject. “Is this orchestra not one of the best you have ever heard? I must inquire of Lady Catherine where she managed to find such accomplished musicians for her ball. I know my mama will want to see if she can hire them for our next rout. Do you like to attend routs, Your Grace?”

  Alex could not help admiring the young woman's attempts at covering the awkward moment, wondering fleetingly what she would do if he were to ask her why she was suddenly so uncomfortable discussing Rose with him. Of course, a gentleman ought not to put a lady to the blush, one of the myriad lessons he had been taught from the cradle. With a silent sigh he tried to recall what she had last asked him. Oh yes, something about routs.

  “At times, my lady. It often depends on who is hosting them, would you not agree? The very nature of a rout calls for it to be quite different from hostess to hostess.”

  “Quite right, Your Grace,” Elizabeth replied with a false little laugh. “I trust you would consider my mama and me to be acceptable rout hostesses. Shall I put you on our guest list?”

  “By all means,” Alex answered with a tightening smile. Starting to find his companion to be a bit of a trial, he was relieved to hear the end of the quadrille as the musicians wound down to a conclusion.

  Escorting his partner back to her waiting mama, Alex gallantly bowed over each lady's hand before making good his escape.

  Going in search of refreshments, the duke asked himself yet again why he bothered attending such events. It was not as though at the age of twenty-six he was in desperate need of securing his succession. Of course, as he knew only too well, calamities could occur even in someone's prime, but he had several strapping young cousins who would be delighted to take over the house of Wrentham. Well aware that the on-dit was that he was ready to settle down to matrimonial bliss, Alex was very much of two minds on the matter.

  No, he attended such things on occasion just to be perverse, as he had accused Lady Elizabeth of being. And out of respect for his political connections. As he sipped from the glass he had been handed by a passing footman, Alex wondered if it was too early to leave without causing offense.

  With a sigh he realized that it would most definitely be remarked upon if he departed after dancing with only one lady. He set himself to the task of partnering many ladies so that none would be remarkable.

  Across the ballroom Rose watched the duke's antics with a jaundiced eye. He appeared to be having a lovely evening as he led one lady after another onto the dance floor while she remained firmly on the side lines. Not that she would have ever accepted his invitation even if he had asked her to dance, but she so wished someone would ask her, she thought with another quickly suppressed sigh. She tried not to notice how very handsome he looked as he maneuvered expertly amongst the dancing couples.

  How was it possible that she was left standing on the sidelines when so many other ladies were dancing holes in their slippers? she thought with a twinge of desperation. This had never happened to her in Vienna, she thought with wistful longing. In Vienna she had been, if not the belle of every ball, at least rather highly popular. Here in London she knew almost no one. Of course, she had made a few friends in the weeks they had been in residence, but it was not at all the same as the tight community the expatriates had formed in Vienna. She fervently hoped some of those old friends would soon turn up in the capital.

  She was lost in happier recollections when a deep voice pulled her from her distraction. “Miss Smythe? Might I have the pleasure of your company for the next dance?”

  Blinking in surprise at the gentleman before her, Rose drew a momentary blank before recognition dawned on her. “Lord Dunbar?” she asked as she dropped a brief, hasty curtsy before her face bloomed into a smile she struggled to prevent turning into a grin. “I would be delighted to partner you in the next dance.”

  “I was wondering if you perhaps had an injury,” the viscount commented, causing Rose to look at him in question. “I have not yet seen you on the dance floor this evening,” he explained. Rose could see from his contrite expression that he regretted his choice of words, but her own face felt like it was flaming with her embarrassment so she was unsure how to set him at ease.

  “I am new to Town, my lord, and do not know many people,” she tried to excuse.

  “I wouldn't think that would much matter,” he replied, still confused. “A beautiful young woman such as yourself very rarely finds herself standing with the chaperones.”

  “I have not yet been presented in the Queen's Drawing Room, so that could account for it,” Rose tried to put a brave face on it. She was torn between feeling flattered over his compliment and being irked that he was harping on her lack of dance partners.

  Rose was almost amused by the viscount's confusion and his look
of chagrin as he began to realize that he should never have pointed out a young lady's identification as a wallflower. He tried to turn the matter into a jest. “Did you do something particularly scandalous while in Vienna?”

  Rose looked at the viscount sharply as she felt the heat rise once more into her cheeks but she refused to allow him to get a reaction from her. Keeping her face as straight as possible, she allowed one eyebrow to inch toward her hair line. “Not that anyone ever found out about.” She turned the veiled admission into a sly jest.

  Lord Dunbar threw his head back and chuckled loudly, causing heads to turn in their direction. Rose struggled to maintain her composure despite her fierce desire to rebuke the viscount. She could hear her mother's words in her mind—don't make a scene.

  “Come along, miss, our dance is beginning. Do not mind the busybodies staring. You will have to grow accustomed to it, as I am quite certain you are about to become a popular young woman.”

  Rose stared at the viscount, shocked at his apparent arrogance. “Just because you have paid me a bit of attention?” she asked, incredulity coloring her surprised tones.

  “No,” he declared with disgust, “because you are a taking little thing and everyone will soon discover that for themselves.”

  Rose managed to keep her mirth contained to a delicate, low chuckle but inside she was full of gales of laughter and she was sure it was written all over her face. Her breath caught as she noticed the look of appreciation on his face. Was it possible the viscount was about to set up a flirtation with her? she wondered. His next words disabused her of that idea.

  “How is it that you have not yet made your curtsy to our Queen? Surely you were not that far behind us in age,” Lord Dunbar probed.

  “You are just full of social niceties this evening, are you not, my lord?” Rose asked, sarcasm dripping from each syllable. “Did no one ever tell you it is decidedly bad form to make any reference to a lady's age?”

  “But surely you cannot be of an age to be concerned about that?” Wesley defended.

  In all honesty Rose could not prevent the negligent shrug that followed his question. “No, you are probably right. And I truly do not care about such things. But it is strange to be experiencing such a sense of not belonging when I have always felt so comfortable in my own skin.” Becoming a trifle flustered over her admission, she hastened to return to the previous question. “I did not come out earlier because we were in mourning. Then we left the country to accompany my father in his diplomatic duties. Now I am in the uncomfortable position of being rather more experienced than the usual debutantes, but I am confined to all the traditions accompanying making one's debut in London.”

  “Is it so very terrible?”

  Rose hesitated before answering and the viscount could see indecision clearly displayed upon her expressive features.

  “Yes and no,” she finally answered, prompting another laugh from Wesley.

  “That is so very specific,” he chided, his tone dry.

  Her color rising once more, Rose elaborated. “I found the social rounds amongst the diplomats and their families much more comfortable as we were a smaller group and there was such an air of excitement, as the men were involved in such important affairs. Now, being in London, I feel lost in the crowd. And it feels a little awkward to be making my debut alongside seventeen-year-old misses fresh from the schoolroom.”

  “I can see how that might rub the wrong way,” Wesley tried to be sympathetic. “I hear our dance is drawing to a close so I must bid you good night. I hope the Season becomes more interesting for you.”

  “It already has,” she answered with a smile.

  Chapter Two

  “I could hardly credit it, Elizabeth!” Rose declared with a touch of disgust in her voice. “No sooner had the viscount returned me to my mother's side than there was practically a queue of men waiting to ask me to dance.”

  In her agitation Rose got up to pace around the elegantly appointed drawing room where she and Lady Elizabeth were having tea. She usually found the large, sunny room to be welcoming and settling, but today not even the oversized painting of Elizabeth as a young girl could get a smile out of her.

  “Are you complaining?” Elizabeth asked, confused.

  “Not exactly,” Rose had to admit. “The ball was obviously much more interesting when viewed from the dance floor rather than the sidelines with the chaperones. But it was just so surprising that Lord Dunbar had such power over everything. What if he had taken me in disgust? Would I be condemned to obscurity for the rest of my days?”

  “My dear Rose, surely you must see that you could never be left in obscurity? It is just impossible for you. There is far too much vitality shimmering around you for you to remain on the sidelines for long. And truly, who cares what makes people tick?”

  “I most certainly do,” Rose declared with determination. “I want to be accepted into the ton because I am witty or some such, not because Lord Dunbar, the famous Viscount of Bracondale, found me mildly amusing.”

  “But you are witty and droll and amusing and lovely. If I did not like you so much I would find it impossible to be friends with you. You are clearly my competition. So what if the gentlemen were a little slow to discover you? What matters is that they did, and you had a lovely time, right?”

  “I suppose you are correct,” Rose admitted grudgingly. “Enough about me, did you have a good time at the ball? I was so excited to be finally dancing again that I failed to spend any time talking with you. I am sure you must have also been on the dance floor, but I so rarely caught a glimpse of you.”

  “That is quite all right. Our mothers would have our heads if we spent too much time with each other and not enough looking over the eligible gentlemen.”

  Rose's tinkle of laughter followed these words before she resumed her questioning. “So I told you all about my dance partners, now you tell me. Did any of your partners strike a chord for you?”

  The strange look that crossed Elizabeth's face caused Rose to intensify her questions. “There was someone! Out with it, my lady, who struck your fancy?”

  “It is nothing like that, Rose. No one was of particular interest to me, alas.” She again hesitated before taking a deep breath and plunging into speech. “I danced with the Duke of Wrentham.”

  Rose could feel the color draining from her face at her friend's words. Hating the thought of even her dear friend sensing a weakness in her she decided to try to brazen it out.

  “Was the duke any good as a partner? I must admit I find it difficult to imagine, since I can recall how he hated the lessons his tutor insisted he must endure.”

  Lady Elizabeth followed her friend's lead and did not refer to the possible awkwardness. “You must make an effort to stretch your imagination then, my dear, as the duke's lessons have clearly paid off. While he was not as skilled as Lord Danbury, he was a perfectly lovely companion for the quadrille we shared.”

  “But of course, no one can quite match up to Lord Danbury's skills on the dance floor,” Rose banter was a trifle weak but she kept her chin firm and brave.

  Elizabeth grinned, continuing, “Well, at the very least all my toes rejoiced over not being trodden upon even once throughout the entire dance.”

  “I would hardly call that a cause to praise his dance skills.”

  “Clearly you have not had the misfortune of being partnered with some of the gentlemen I have been paired up with of late.” Elizabeth's wry answer was followed by a teasing smile.

  “I cannot argue with you there, as I have been sorely lacking in dance partners.” Seeing that her friend was about to commiserate, Rose hastened to return to the subject at hand. “I am happy to hear that the duke's title has clearly brought him previously unheard of skills,” Rose countered, feeling much more the thing after her momentary lapse of zest.

  “He was actually quite a lovely dance partner; besides not stepping on my toes he politely conversed with me and appeared to be very kind.”

>   “How lovely,” Rose answered in a monotone, not wishing to prolong this particular conversation. “Did you have any other interesting experiences at the ball?”

  “Not particularly. While the Chorneys were perfectly lovely hosts, I found the ball to be much like any other I have attended and would much rather have been home on our estate curled up with a good book after a long day of riding or visiting our tenants or some such, anything other than being in a stuffy, crowded ballroom listening to bored society matrons rehashing the latest on dits.”

  The two girls shared a look of mutual agreement before Rose answered with reasonable aplomb. “I cannot help but agree with you wholeheartedly, but the trouble is that in order to attain a home of our own we need to marry. And apparently the only way one can marry is to go through this ridiculous charade one calls the 'Season.' So events such as the Chorney Ball are a necessary evil, would you not agree?”

  With a heartfelt sigh, Elizabeth nodded before mustering up a smile and adding, “At least with a friend who feels similarly it is not quite so dreadful.”

  “Exactly,” agreed Rose with a wide grin.

  Both girls were distracted by the clatter of approaching people. They had been so engrossed in their conversation that they had failed to hear the knocker. It would seem that their comfortable coze was at an end as Lady Elizabeth had more callers.

  “Lucky thing you came unfashionably early,” Elizabeth whispered just before the butler stepped into the room to announce the new arrivals.

  “Ladies Emmaline and Constance Chadwick to see you, my lady,” the staid older retainer intoned.

  Rose had to stifle her giggle as she watched her friend put on the airs expected of an aristocratic debutante. She watched in awe as her friend rose slowly to her feet, an air of boredom heavy upon her features.

  “Welcome, ladies,” she said, her usually cheerful voice dulled by her tones of ennui.