The Duke's Dilemma (14 page)

Emily assured him she took no offense whatsoever, though in truth, his insensitive words sent a new flood of pain and humiliation coursing through her. For she understood all too well why he found it difficult to believe the titillating gossip. She had seen the beautiful …woman all London knew was Montford’s current mistress. Why would a man with such sophisticated taste waste his time with a plain-faced provincial from the Cotswolds?

But he had. The wealthy and powerful Duke of Montford had chosen to amuse himself for one brief fortnight by playing the part of a common highwayman, and now she was left to pay the charges for his cruel farce. It was all so unfair and her aching heart cried out for revenge.

“I promised Lady Lucinda I would see to your safety and I will. I would walk through fire if she asked me to,” the Earl of Chillingham continued fervently, his bobbing Adam’s apple punctuating every word. “But the thing is, ma’am, I cannot think what to do with you.”

It was too much. The young earl meant well, but he made Emily feel like a piece of refuse he’d been asked to dispose of, and the tears she had held at bay through the long, tortuous ride from Brynhaven spilled from her eyes and trailed down her cheeks.

A horrified expression crossed the earl’s face. “Don t worry, ma’ am, I’ll think of something,” he declared, pulling a linen handkerchief from his pocket and pressing it into her hand. “It’s just that it would never do to put you up at my bachelor quarters in St. James Street. No women allowed, you see. And my mama moved to Bath two years ago when Papa died, so that’s out.”

He stared into space, apparently racking his brain for a solution to the problem Lucinda had saddled him with, and Emily was moved to assure the kindly young gentleman that she had no need of his assistance. But she looked about her at the street hawkers and the newsboys, the flower girls with their pathetic little nosegays and the beggars with their tin cups, the elegant dandies and the “painted ladies” who vied for their attention—and she realized the young coachman had been right. She had not the slightest idea how to survive on the streets of London. The time had come to swallow her pride and admit she was in desperate need of help.

“I shall not need accommodations beyond tonight,” she stammered, hoping against hope there was some truth to her claim. “For tomorrow I shall seek out my grandmother’s
solicitor, and I am certain he will provide for me from then on. “

The earl looked as if the weight of the world had been lifted from his thin shoulders.

“One night! Well then, that’s no problem at all, ma’ am,” he declared cheerfully. “I shall simply take you to my aunts’ townhouse in Grosvenor Square.”

Emily found it hard to believe that anyone residing at such an elegant address would welcome a homeless woman tainted by scandal into her home. She cleared her throat self-consciously. “Are you certain your aunts will not object to such an intrusion?”

“They won’t know a thing about it—at least not until after you’re gone. Staying in the country for a few days, don’t you know.” He held out a hand to help her into the curricle. “You’ll be no trouble at all, ma’am. Why, I wager the staff will be happy as pigeons to have someone to do for. Must be a dead bore when the old dears are away.”

It was obvious to Emily the minute the butler opened the door that the staff of the elegant Grosvenor Square townhouse was not the least bit happy about having “someone to do for.”

The stiff-necked butler greeted the earl with the deference due a titled member of his employer’s family, but both he and the housekeeper let Emily know, by the sour looks they cast her way whenever the earl’s back was turned, that they considered her a common interloper and utterly beneath their contempt. Emily straightened her back and elevated her nose in her best imitation of Lady Hargrave, but never had she been more painfully aware of her shabby appearance, nor her lack of the proper chaperon required by a single lady of impeccable reputation.

Oblivious to the repressive undertones, the earl ordered a bedchamber prepared for Emily and a light repast of cold chicken and fruit served in the small but, ornate dining room. Emily had little appetite, but she forced herself to eat a hearty supper. There was every chance it might be her last good meal for some time if the solicitor was still as hardnosed as she remembered him.

She had just quartered a luscious-looking red apple and popped a slice into her mouth when the butler announced the arrival of Mr. George Brummell.

“Percival! I did not expect to see you here.” Mr. Brummell swept through the door, a picture of sartorial splendor in his usual black evening clothes. “I just stopped by to hear your lady aunts’ version of the bumblebroth at Brynhaven, but I see they’ve not yet returned. Tell me all about it, lad. There’s talk of nothing else at White’s and Watier’s, and I am devastated that I left a day too early and missed it all.

His gaze finally traveled to Emily who had instinctively risen the minute she saw him, and his eyes widened to two startled. question marks. “Good Lord! Can it be?” He raised his quizzing glass and peered at Emily. “By Jove, it is my little friend from the Cotswolds.”

He stepped forward, caught Emily’s hand in his and raised her fingers to his lips. “My dear Miss Haliburton. What is this foolishness I hear about you and the duke? What an unlikely pair to be involved in the scandal of the season. I am quite green with envy.”

Emily didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the Beau’s frivolous reaction to the miserable situation she found herself in.

“It is not humorous, Mr. Brummell,” she said primly.

“Nonsense. Of course it is. Scandal is always humorous and always entertaining. It is only when one takes it seriously that it becomes tedious. But, pray tell, dear lady, whatever are you doing in the camp of the enemy—so to speak?”

The camp of the enemy. Emily stared wide-eyed, first at the Beau, and then at the earl, whose face was a study in shock and guilt. All at once, phrases like “my lady aunts” and “not yet returned” took on a new meaning. How could she have forgotten that young Chillingham was the Duke of Montford’s heir presumptive, as well as his cousin?

She pressed her hand to the spot where her poor, thundering heart threatened to leap from her chest. “Dear God in heaven,” she murmured. “Never say t his is Lady Cloris’ and Lady Sophia’s house.”

“Of course it is our house. Whose house did you think it was, Miss Haliburton?” The voice was strident and unmistakably feminine. Emily, the earl, and Beau Brummell turned as one to find Lady Cloris Tremayne fluttering like a small, anxious bird in the open doorway—and behind her, leaning on a stout, ivory-headed cane, stood the imposing figure of Lady Sophia.

“Aunt Cloris! Aunt Sophia!” The earl’s face turned paper white and the freckles dusting his bloodless cheeks stood out like pebbles on a sun-bleached beach. “I didn’t expect you to return so soon. “

Lady Sophia limped forward, leaning heavily on her cane. “That is rather obvious, Percival. What is this my housekeeper tells me about your turning our home into a hotel? And do stop slouching. Poor posture will only result in a crooked spine; it will not make you one whit less visible.”

The earl drew himself up to his full height, his face flushed with indignation.

“Your housekeeper is too full of herself and should be sacked forthwith, if you want my opinion. I have merely offered one night’s shelter to a lady who has been turned out of her home through no fault of her own.”

“No fault of her own! Is it possible you are even more witless than you appear, nephew? Or is this a different Miss Haliburton from the creature who arrived at Brynhaven Manor with half her clothing missing and relegated to the coachman’s bench like a common lightskirt once the duke had his way with her?”

Emily watched her gentle knight-errant wilt before Lady Sophia’s attack—and a terrible, cold anger filled her. She laid a hand on the earl’s arm. “I will speak for myself, my lord.”

She faced the she-dragon squarely. “The duke did not relegate me to the coachman ‘s bench—I chose it myself rather than spend one more minute in the hateful man’s presence. Nor did he ravish me, as you would like to believe. Apparently you do not know your nephew well,
ma’am. An arrogant, selfish hedonist he might be, but he is no ravager—and that he would have
had
to be to have had his way with me. I have too much sense of my own worth to submit to any man without the sanctity of the marriage vows.”

“Bravo, Miss Haliburton. Well said.” Beau Brummell raised his hand in salute.

“Do shut up, George,” Lady Sophia snapped. “This is none of your affair. So, Miss,” she said, turning back to Emily, “I take it you expect me to believe the cock-and-bull story you related to Edgar Rankin about falling tree limbs and split seams.”

“Believe what you will, Lady Sophia. I care not. But it is the truth.” Emily snatched up her small portmanteau, ready to march out of the townhouse pride intact. But without warning, her knees buckled beneath her and she sank onto the nearest chair.

Lady Sophia’s chin elevated imperiously. “I do not recall inviting you to sit, Miss Haliburton.”

Emily clenched her fists in frustration. “You are not the Queen, my lady, and I am not a green schoolgirl standing reprimand.” She pressed her fingers to her trembling lips. “And I am so angry. I fear I have taken ill.”

” Impertinent chit!” Lady Sophia glared at Emily, but there was an odd light in her hooded eyes which, under different circumstances, might have been thought a twinkle.

“Very much like yourself at that age, sister,” Lady Cloris said in her soft, whispery voice. She fluttered to the sideboard, poured a glass of amber liquid, and handed it to Emily. “Try a sip of this, my dear. There is nothing like a good sherry to calm the nerves. I keep it on hand for just such occasions as this.”

She smiled sweetly at Emily. “You must not mind my sister ‘s curt way of speaking. We have been so distressed, and she is just so anxious to sort things out, you see, now that dear Jared is on the mend.”

“He is going to be all right?” Despite herself, Emily felt a profound relief.

“Of course.” Lady Cloris glanced pointedly at her sister. “Montfords are noted for their hard heads.”

“For heavens sake, Cloris, stop fluttering about and light somewhere.” Lady Sophia switched her hawklike gaze to the earl. “And you, nephew, where are your manners? Fetch me a chair at once.”

The earl leapt to do her bidding, then stood behind the chair as she settled her considerable bulk. “Cloris is right, for once,” she said. “This unfortunate bumblebroth wants sorting out, but first I must demand of all present that nothing of our discussion will leave this room—and that includes you, George,” she said to Brummell.

The Beau, who had been watching the proceedings with avid curiosity, drew forth a chair and joined the circle. “Devil take it, my lady, you ask a lot of a man. You know gossip is my life’s blood.” He sighed deeply. “Very well, I swear not a word will pass my lips.”

Lady Sophia acknowledged his solemn oath with a brief nod, then turned to Emily. All eyes followed suit. “So, Miss, what do you have to say for yourself?” she demanded.

Entirely confused by the turn of events, Emily stared at her tormenter, unable to think of a single word.

“Out with it, my girl. You deny that the duke ravished you. Do you also deny he flummoxed you into believing he was a common highwayman and then, as Edgar Rankin so delicately put it, ‘engaged your interest’?”

Emily felt her cheeks flame. She raised her chin defiantly. “No, my lady, that I cannot deny.”

“Which, I assume, is why you swooned dead away when Squire Bosley delivered his news of the local footpad’s demise.”

Emily’s cheeks flushed even hotter.

“A highwayman? How romantic. But how unlike dear Jared who, sad to say, has always been rather stuffy and unimaginative.”

Lady Cloris looked thoughtful. “It must be in the blood. Some of our ancestors were quite notorious, you know.”

“For heaven’s sake, Cloris, be still. We are trying to settle a serious matter here.” Lady Sophia fixed Emily with a basilisk stare. “So, how do you plan to take your revenge, my girl? And do not bother to deny revenge has been uppermost in your mind, for only a saint would forgive the rogue who conceived such a hoax—I see no halo round your head. “

“I would dearly love to make your arrogant nephew pay for his sins, my lady,” Emily said bitterly, “if you would be good enough to tell me how a penniless nobody might revenge herself against the Duke of Montford.”

A crafty smile spread across Lady Sophia’s face. “I shall be happy to, Miss Haliburton. I have a score to settle with the jackanapes myself over a little matter of marriage brokering gone sour, which left us in a most embarrassing position. I do believe we may both have our satisfaction if we join forces, but that is something we shall discuss further in the morning.

In the meantime, I bid you good night. “

She tapped her cane on the highly polished hardwood floor with all the authority of a judge wielding a gavel. “Ring for a footman, Percival,” she ordered, “and have Miss Haliburton escorted to that bedchamber you have already had prepared for her.”

“But your ladyship…” Emily’s protest was cut short as she felt her arm grasped with surprising force by Lady Cloris. “No use objecting, my dear,” the lady whispered as she hurried her into the vestibule. “You will only upset Sophia, and you wouldn’t want to do that. She is the dearest of souls, but she can be quite dreadful if she fails to have her way.”

Her softly wrinkled face dimpled in a smile. “It runs in the family, you know.”

Brummell offered his arm to Lady Sophia, and escorted her to the door of the salon which had been converted into a bedchamber once she could no longer navigate the stairs to the upper floor.

“The girl has spirit; I’ll say that for her, “Lady Sophia remarked after a moment of silence.

“Miss Haliburton does have that, ma’ am.”

“Edgar Rankin seems quite taken with her. Says she is scholarly as any bluestocking but with none of the silly airs such creatures usually put on.”

“I share his enthusiasm, my lady. In fact when the two of us discussed Miss Haliburton at Brynhaven, we agreed she would make the duke an admirable
parti
were it not for her inauspicious background.”

“An obstacle, I agree, but not an insurmountable one,” Lady Sophia said, stopping at the entrance to her chamber. “Though I suspect the duke might consider it so; he is insufferably high in the instep, you know.”

She chuckled. “But then, I never thought to see the day the sly boots would carry on in such a shameful fashion as he has this past fortnight. A highwayman. Can you imagine, George? I didn’t think the lad had it in him.”

“He is a deep one, ma’ am.”

Lady Sophia scowled thoughtfully. “The truth, George. I know you and the duke are friends. Has he, by any chance, confided his feelings concerning Miss Haliburton?”

“Not to me, my lady. I believe Edgar Rankin is his only confidant.”

“And I would have more success milking a duck than prying any of my nephew’s secrets out of
that
young man. The fellow is dreadfully loyal. I am surprised he divulged as much as he did of the sorry affair.”

Brummell patted the hand clutching his arm. “If I know Rankin, he had his reasons.”

“You think he was championing the chit’s cause with me?”

“I think he would champion any cause he thought would make the duke happy, ma am.”

“As would I, George. As would I. The duke and I do not often see eye to eye, and I suspect he considers me an irascible old busybody whose sole purpose in life is to nag him into producing an heir to the title. This I cannot deny, for it is imperative that he secure the title with his own issue, and not leave it to a nodcock like Percival.

“Still, I have always had a soft spot in my heart for the duke. He was such a sweet-natured little boy, but far too serious. More like a little old man than a child. The only person who could draw a smile from him was his care for-nothing mother and the strumpet abandoned him when he was still a babe.”

She gave a heartfelt sigh. “He absolutely. adored that mindless bit of fluff—which was why Lady Cloris and I thought another mindless bit of fluff would be just what he would want for his duchess. I see now we were wrong. The duke wears his wealth and title like a suit of armor, and it will take a very strong and very compassionate woman to reach the lonely man inside. I would do anything in my power to help him find that woman.”

“And you think she may be Miss Haliburton?”

” I wasn’t certain until Lady Cloris mentioned the duke was recovering. Did you see how the girl’s face lighted up? After all that rascal’s naughtiness, she still cares for him. I find that quite remarkable.”

“Then why did you spin that tale about joining forces to take your revenge?”

“Because I doubt her pride would allow her to admit how she feels about him. I know mine wouldn’t if he had treated me so abominably. But any woman worth her salt would be aching to even the score.”

“And you will pretend to help her?” Brummell shook his head. “How will you carry that off, my lady? For I know you too well to credit you actually mean to do the duke harm.”

Lady Sophia’s eyes sparkled with mischief, and for one brief instant, Brummell caught a glimpse of the legendary beauty who had taken London by storm half a century earlier. “On the contrary, I have every bit as much desire to take my arrogant nephew down a peg as does Miss Haliburton. No man ever deserved it more. Nothing drastic you understand—just a whiff of the same sort of public humiliation he so thoughtlessly caused us.”

She glanced about her as if to make certain there was no one within hearing distance. “But unbeknownst to Miss Haliburton,” she continued in a sibilant whisper, “all the while we two plot our little revenge, I shall be playing another game—one in which I have need of your help, my friend, because while Lady Cloris is pluck to the bone, she is not at all devious.”

Brummell raised a quizzical eyebrow. “I am at your command, my lady. But am I allowed to know the name of this game in which I am to be involved?”

“Of course, George,” she said, and once again a crafty smile played across her austere features. “But surely you’ve already guessed. It is called matchmaking.”

The ladies Tremayne were early risers by
ton
standards. Emily had expected to have to wait out the entire morning for her discussion with Lady Sophia. Instead, promptly at eight o’clock a maid tapped on her chamber door and entered with a pitcher of hot water, fresh linen towels and a steaming cup of chocolate. “Breakfast will be served at nine o’clock in the morning room, Miss, she announced shyly, and I am to be your abigail. My name is Martha.”

Emily smiled at the pretty dark-haired girl. “Thank you, Martha, but as you see, I am already dressed and have no need of an abigail. Indeed, since I have never had one, I shouldn’t know what to do with you.”

The girl looked stricken. “Please, Miss. I could be ever so much help if you’d let me. Especially with your hair. I am very good with hair, if I do say so myself and yours is such a pretty brown; it just needs a bit of fancying up like.”

Tears pooled in her soft brown eyes. “My sister, Lucy—she’s Lady Cloris’s maid—taught me everything else I need to know. It’s a rare step up from the kitchen, you see, and I’m ever so tired of peeling potatoes and plucking chickens.”

“I can well imagine.” Emily removed the handkerchief she’d earlier tucked in her sleeve and handed it to the girl. “I’ve done enough of both in my day and hated them with a passion.” She smiled sympathetically. “But I shall only be here a few hours, so I’m afraid your promotion is a temporary one.”

“Oh no, Miss. How can that be? For I heard Mr. Finster, the butler, tell the housekeeper to air the bed in the yellow chamber as that was where you’d be sleeping from now on, and it’s ever so much nicer than this little room—and I’m to have my own bed in the dressing closet.”