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Authors: Hayley A. Solomon

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BOOK: Madrigals And Mistletoe
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“You do me much honour, Miss Camfrey! I shall have a coach sent round for the purpose.”
“Beg pardon?” Cordelia was still dazed. She certainly had no notion of what he spoke.
“A barouche, Miss Camfrey!” Henry's words echoed those of Doncaster. “You shall need one, for I daresay mine will be a trifle small for a party.”
“A party?”
“Indeed, yes! I must say, it is very handsome of you, your grace!” Lord Winthrop beamed happily.
Rhaz was not so sure. The excellent notion he had conceived to rid himself at one and the same time of both Lord Henry Winthrop and his equally horse-mad, shatter-brained cousin Helena Moresby appeared to be a double-edged sword.
He'd offered Henry the chance of reviewing his stables and sending his mares to stud simply to draw him out of Cordelia's sphere and into that of Helena's. What he had
not
anticipated was that the shortsighted Lord Henry should think that he'd intended a lengthy stay or that he would assume Cordelia to be interested enough to want to accompany him. Of course, once he had made that assumption, it was necessary to invite both Ancilla and Seraphina, for it would have been shocking, indeed, for Cordelia to make up the party without chaperonage.
The duke did not particularly mind having Huntingdon descended upon by unexpected guests, but he was not sure how easy it would be to restrain his desires in the face of daily contact with the delectable Cordelia.
Especially
as she had quite specifically placed her trust in him to treat their growing attraction as a mutual friendship only. He sighed inwardly, for despite the fact that she was wearing last season's riding habit, it could not be denied that the vivid emerald looked stunning against her dark hair and that her wide, bright eyes glowed from her recent exercise.
The visit would be a sore trial to him. Still, none of these doubts were allowed to show on his dark, wonderfully well-proportioned countenance. If his eyes wandered a trifle to Cordelia's lips, no one noticed but she, and her heart was hammering too loudly in her breast to make any objection.
“The younger Miss Camfrey and your delightful mama shall naturally accompany you, Miss Cordelia.”
Cordelia's spirits lowered immeasurably. Of course! This was merely the duke's elaborate way of furthering his acquaintance with Seraphina. Tears stung at the back of her eyes but she willed them away.
“Thank you, my grace! I am sure both will be quite honoured by the invitation, but I must tell you it is probable we shall not be able to take you up on your very kind offer.”
Lord Winthrop nearly fell out of his seat. “Dash it all, Cordelia! It is not every day that Drixon and Aramiss have a chance to be coupled with two prize-winning Arabians!”
“I daresay not.” Cordelia tried not to allow the tartness in her tone to become perceptible. “Seraphina, however, is inundated with invitations. Besides”—she looked uncertainly at the duke, unsure whether to confide minor household matters to him—“Seraphina's music master has only been employed for this quarter. It would be a sad waste of his services if we were suddenly to withdraw to the country.”
“Bring him with!”
“Beg pardon?”
The duke repeated himself firmly. “Bring him with. I have any
number
of instruments lying about that might serve the purpose.”
“Yes, but . . .”
Lord Winthrop decided to take a firm hand. “Miss Cordelia,” he uttered firmly. “since you are a mere female and bound to get all in a tither about these things, leave them, I implore you, to me. There can be no more important circumstance than getting the horses to stud”—he cast a knowing glance at Rhaz—“as I am perfectly certain his grace will agree. Therefore, my dear, I shall just have to cast aside your objections and, by the right of my superior lineage, sex and masculine intelligence, outrule your gentle heart on this matter.”
Cordelia glared at him. Her heart did not feel particularly gentle as the amused Duke of Doncaster could quite plainly see. Just as she was about to take issue with Winthrop's sweeping dismissal of her sex, she caught Rhaz's sudden, unexpected wink. His hand was over his mouth to stifle hoops of sudden, unbidden laughter. Shakily, he nodded, and as solemnly as he could, announced that since all females were
indeed
so feeble, it was fitting that he lend them strength and decision.
Cordelia, looking over Winthrop's thin, balding and slightly reddish head, witnessed the rather edifying sight of the fifth duke nigh on choke in amusement. In response, her lips twitched slightly and she felt a familiar glimmer of humour overtake her annoyance.
Just as Lord Winthrop was nodding solemnly and vowing what a pillar of strength the fifth duke must prove to all womankind, she choked, spluttered and allowed the tears to spill readily from her eyes. Such hilarity was alien to Winthrop, who looked first at Rhaz, then back again at Cordelia.
“Pardon me for missing the jest,” he muttered pompously. Extracting no answer beside an unbecoming crack of renewed hilarity, the second Lord Winthrop jammed his beaver upon his head, made a quick bow to his intended and departed as abruptly as he had arrived.
ELEVEN
“I trust the trip is in order? If I had known the disruption my invitation would cause, I might never have given it.”
“It was kindhearted in you, your grace! You must know Lord Winthrop values his stable above all else.”
“Then he is a fool!”
The duke took Cordelia's hand in his and looked intently into the black of her long, tangled lashes. He could not see her eyes, for the sudden flutter she felt at his touch caused her to cast them down towards the tip of her sensible half boots.
“Your grace—”
“I wish you would call me Rhaz. We are friends, are we not?”
“We hardly know each other!”
“I feel I am sufficiently long in the tooth to discern a friend in a matter of moments. Do you not share similar sentiments, Miss Cordelia?”
She did, but her tone was muffled as she acknowledged it. She hardly trusted herself to speak, so strange were the feelings that flowed between them and the doubt and uncertainties that crested and peaked like an untameable sea between them.
Friendship. He spoke of that so easily, yet there was something more between them. Cordelia could feel it flutter through her senses and wondered if she were the only one affected in this dizzying manner. She concluded rather soulfully that she must be, for the duke remained rock steady to her touch and even acted as a support to her as she rocked, strangely off balance.
Lord Winthrop had left in such haste that the door's three inches had narrowed, slightly, to two. The duke had great difficulty in maintaining the correct distance between them, especially since, when she finally
did
look up from her contemplation of her boots, her face was more lovely than he remembered.
Gently, he took her hands in his and narrowed the distance between them farther. The pulse in her neck must have encouraged him, for before he could set reason to disorder, his lips were upon hers and he felt the trembling, feather-light touch of her arms about his back. Cordelia closed her eyes and marvelled at the firm warmth of his grace's lips as they took possession of her senses.
His scent was of musk and a strange, elusive fragrance reminiscent of pinecones and firs. His hair, pitch against the skintight lawn shirt and elegant cravat, fell slightly from his shoulders and brushed against her skin. Silky as she had imagined . . . His face, whilst clean shaven, nevertheless harboured a dark shadow faintly discernible to the touch. Daring, she allowed her hands to explore as he uttered a short oath and searched her bright eyes for the truth and honesty he knew he would find.
When he did, his mouth again moved towards hers and Cordelia could feel a strange well of warmth pervade her body. She had never before experienced such an electrifying effect upon her person. Rhaz, too, seemed similarly affected, for his strong hands trembled, sending the prism from his single, elegant emerald refracting into a million small lights across the room.
This delightful situation might have progressed to new and interesting heights had it not been for a cheery step upon the marbled corridor just outside. The duke, mindful of Cordelia's reputation and rather chagrined at his own loss of control—his heart's desire was, after all, betrothed—gently put her from him and straightened his cravat. Though his eyes were speaking with tenderness, Cordelia did not see them, for Seraphina hurtled in and announced how delighted she was the duke had taken the trouble of calling.
In the same way that Winthrop had imagined that his grace's visit pertained to himself alone, Seraphina made a similar mistake. She assumed without blinking that the duke's call originated solely from the desire to reacquaint himself with her. Perhaps, to be fair, this muddleheaded notion had developed after a singular talk with Ancilla, who had summoned her almost immediately after the duchess's departure. Whatever the reason, the thought did not cross her mind that it might be
Cordelia
his grace wished to see. If it had, much of the misunderstanding that was to follow might have been averted. Still, it is seldom possible to apply hindsight to current situations, and for the moment, Seraphina was flattered beyond anything to have so huge a success at the outset of her first town season.
Her feelings for Frederick were as yet so young, so strange and so entirely novel that they had not yet crystallised into devotion. If anything, she was confused, for he was a mere music master and therefore beyond her sphere in terms of marriage. Despite her roguish kiss and the insensible flutterings of her own heart, she accepted that Captain Argyll intended, as he said, friendship only. Accordingly, she fluttered her eyelashes like a fledgling flirt and set out to be as charming and as alluring as ever she could.
She would have been chagrined to notice the duke's indulgent smile or the sideways glance of amusement he cast her elder sister. Cordelia might have been comforted, too, if she had noticed his expression. Unfortunately she did not. She was still trying to control her breathing and recapture her pulses from the electrifying effects of the moments before.
When she'd finally achieved this, she stole a glance at the duke, but he was so occupied in indulgently pandering to Seraphina's high spirits that the speaking moment was lost. Seraphina, brightly decked in a morning gown of crisp green lawn, looked sparkling. Cordelia swallowed a faint lump in her throat and quietly resumed her seat. All the lustre of the day was dulled for her, as she watched the heart-stoppingly handsome profile of her heart's desire. Strong and dark, he was truly an incomparable. Cordelia's fingers unthinkingly fluttered to her mouth, where his kiss was impressed upon her forever.
To the duke—Roving Rhaz—too late she remembered his amorous appellation—Cordelia must have seemed an inviting manner in which to pass the time. She blushed crimson at her own lack of reserve and at the fact that she had not roundly slapped his face in the manner in which he deserved. Yet he had looked so gentle, so infinitely tender . . .
Seraphina's chatter intruded into her thoughts but she found she could no more concentrate than collect her wits enough to order up tea. Fortunately, Pendleton was not so backwards in his attentions, nor, indeed, was Mrs. Stevens. By the time the delectable cake tray had made its entrance, Cordelia had recovered her poise enough to smile benignly at her sister and offhandedly at the duke. She vowed he would never know how close he'd been to melting all her defences and eliciting a declaration of love from her lips.
Love . . .
Cordelia turned the word over in her mind despairingly. Since she was always strictly honest in her dealings with herself, she had to admit that, eligible or not, possible or not, honourable or not, she was head over heels for Rhaz, the noble fifth Duke of Doncaster.
Seraphina was still strategically batting her eyelashes and regaling the duke with snippets of her newly acquired town bronze. If she did not feel quite the same pangs of attraction and yearning that she did for her common music master, the lustre of Rhaz's rank and name was still firmly printed on her impressionable mind. It was clear that Ancilla expected a declaration from the duke and Seraphina quite thrilled at the prospect, for there could be no greater matrimonial catch, this season or any other.
Of course, his wide-set eyes and strong, aquiline nose seemed a trifle formidable and if she preferred the tantalising fall of chestnut locks to the stark, more regal à la Titus mode, that was her prerogative entirely. It was possible, she thought in confusion, to find
two
men appealing and Captain Argyll, after all, far from being as eligible was, she had to admit with an inward sigh, entirely
ineligible.
Still, there could be no doubt that while the duke was all that one could wish for, his ironical gaze was disconcerting and she could not help the feeling that he was indulging her as a benevolent parent would a small child. She peeped up at him suspiciously, but there was not a hint of a smile lurking on his fine, wide lips as he nodded seriously and agreed that there could be no better read than Miss Burney's
Evelina.
At first, Seraphina accused him of hoaxing her, but he murmured rather endearingly that this was not the case. When next he spouted several incidents very closely pertaining to the text, she was convinced. Rhaz chuckled inwardly and thanked the heavens his mama was such an inveterate reader of Gothic romances and other tales of high drama but dubious literary merit.
His twinkling eyes caught Cordelia's and she responded with an unwilling, but answering, smile. He was prepared to bet more than a few sovereigns that Cordelia's literary taste more nearly matched his own. He was quite tempted to tax her on it, but desisted, since Seraphina had taken up a new tack and it would have been unbecoming in him to interrupt. Still, while his mouth still tingled with their shared caress, he hoped and assumed that there was sufficient understanding between them to make words unnecessary. The matter of Lord Winthrop would be resolved—he was sure of that.
When Ancilla poked her head around the door and hurried both sisters up with an apologetic shake of her head at Doncaster, he took his leave with good grace. He would have been astonished to know that tears filled Cordelia's eyes as she vowed not to see him again. Or not alone, at all events.
 
 
“Shall you have your lessons in the afternoon, Miss Seraphina? I understand you are engaged until midday today. Perhaps some time after luncheon might suit?” The words were everything that they should be of a music master, but something in the tone made Seraphina quiver in anticipation. Captain Argyll had just knocked briskly on the door of the breakfast room and made an unannounced entrance.
“This morning will be excellent, Captain! I have played truant quite long enough and for that, Mama, I most heartily beg your pardon.” Seraphina looked across at Ancilla and made a small grimace. “I am sorry I took such a pet! I just loathe being made to feel like a small child at lessons.”
Ancilla nodded. “That is perfectly understandable, my dear. You have your wings to flutter and it must seem irksome to you. I know
I
would find such an obligation a dead bore! Still, we cannot have a repeat of Lady Dearforth's soiree. I doubt either your pride or reputation could withstand such a thing twice.”
Seraphina looked contrite, but an irrepressible twinkle lurked behind her lovely eyes. She shot a quick glance at the captain, who was standing quite correctly at ease with his long, slim fingers behind his back. Since he had not yet been outside, his fingers were not gloved and Seraphina had the sudden urge to kiss each one. She wondered what her sister and dear mama might think and tried to stifle the ready laughter that rose to her wide, quite generous lips.
“Indeed not! Horrors! And to that end I intend to devote today
entirely
to my studies. If that is all right with you, Captain?” She shot him a sidelong glance of pure mischief.
He chuckled inwardly at the child's audacity and made a stiff, servantlike bow. “I am entirely at your service, Miss Camfrey!”
“Seraphina, shall you not have dozens of morning callers buzzing about you like butterflies?”
“Doubtless I shall, but you may tell them I am engaged in morning calls of my own!”
“Very well then.” The resignation in Cordelia's tone was palpable. She looked up with a slight, exasperated dimple surfacing about her mouth. “I suppose
I
shall have to entertain them?”
“You are a
dear,
Cordelia!”
Ancilla smiled serenely. “Then that is settled! I am going to pop over to Hookham's.”
Seraphina gasped. “I am so sorry, Mama! I quite forgot to get your books!”
“I noticed. Never mind, Seraphina. I managed to finish that horrid, prosy piece by Sir Francis Bacon. Now I feel quite virtuous and may happily procure a couple of Gothics without feeling the smallest qualm!”
Seraphina crossed over and gave her startled mother a quick hug. “Excellent. You
do
deserve them. I am sorry I forgot.”
“It is a trifle. You work at your accomplishments and I shall be more than mollified.”
Seraphina nodded. “Shall we remove to the music room, Captain, or is the day too fine?”
She challenged him laughingly with her clear sky blue eyes.
“The music room will be an excellent start, Miss Seraphina.” His tone was slightly repressive. He did not want Ancilla to decide a chaperone was suddenly a necessary accoutrement to the lessons. Though he would admit it to no one but himself, he was looking forward to the day with immense anticipation. If the naughty chit did not behave herself, however, the whole day might be spoiled.
Fortunately, Seraphina nodded demurely and did not press the point about the woods. Ancilla appeared to notice nothing amiss, for she gently opened the
Morning
Post
and waved her youngest daughter away with a graceful little gesture of her hand.
Cordelia set down the last of her chocolate. It was a grim day ahead of her, for she was to consult with Cook about the meals for the following week and she knew it was going to be a battle since no one but she truly understood the deplorable state of their financial affairs. Between trying to cajole Cook into preparing bream instead of buttered lobster and one side dish instead of the usual three or four, she would have her work cut out for her. Then there were several matters pertaining to the household that she needed to discuss with Mrs. Stevens and Lord Winthrop was due to arrive some time after one to escort her to an edifying lecture on the evils of modern society and man's propensity to sin.
BOOK: Madrigals And Mistletoe
12.8Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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