The Matchmaker and the Duke Page 13

  ‘Without a doubt.’

  With both glasses held in one hand, he escorted her out of the ballroom.

  ‘You look troubled, Mrs Durant,’ he said once they found a table.

  ‘Oh, dear, and here I thought I was doing such a fine job of hiding my thoughts. The ladies were taking about children and grandchildren. I had not expected to feel envy.’

  ‘It is not too late for you to start a family, surely?’

  Men. They simply did not understand the way the clock moved inexorably onwards for a woman. She was well past the age when she would receive an offer of marriage from another nobleman and her family would tolerate nothing less. They only permitted her the licence of living on her own because she never asked them for financial help. With the gossip about her and Stone, she half expected her cousin to come to London and insist she return home to the bosom of what family she had left. It was not how she planned to spend her declining years.

  A couple of curious glances from people seated at nearby tables came their way. She sighed. ‘I should not be seen in a private tête-à-tête with you.’

  ‘Hardly private,’ he said, his dark eyes twinkling with something on any other man she might have described as mischief. Clearly, he was thinking of their other private moments. Another blush fired her cheeks.

  ‘Why did you seek me out?’

  ‘I wanted you to know that I intend to invite the Misses Mitchell to my Sussex country house for a summer party.’

  Her heart missed a beat. For a second, she felt queasy. It was as if someone had struck her hard in the chest. Sally had been right. He did indeed plan to make Charity an offer.

  ‘You need to consult with Mr Mitchell.’

  ‘Indeed, I will. But I wish to make sure you will be available to serve as chaperon. Aunt Mary will be with us, but honestly she has no idea how to deal with a pair of lively girls like the Mitchell sisters.’

  For a moment she could not believe her ears. ‘You want me to go, too.’

  ‘I am counting on you.’

  So, she was to watch him court Miss Mitchell. But what else could she do? If she did not oversee this part of the match, she could easily lose her fee. Papa Mitchell was a businessman and he would be quick to point out that she had not had a hand in finalising the arrangement between the parties.

  There was one thing that needed to be made clear, however. She lowered her voice. ‘You do understand that of necessity, now that you are serious in your intentions, our—dalliance—is at an end.’

  ‘Naturally.’

  A hollowness filled her when she ought to be pleased that he was such an honourable gentleman. ‘Then if Mr Mitchell agrees to the visit, and he is content to have me act as chaperon, I will agree.’

  The Duke raised his glass in a toast. ‘To summer house parties. May they prosper for all concerned.’

  Drat the man for looking so pleased with himself.

  ‘House parties.’ She sipped her ratafia.

  He cocked his head. ‘I believe they are striking up the next waltz. Shall we?’

  * * *

  Of course Papa Mitchell had been delighted at the idea of his daughters visiting a duke, though he had refused to accept the invitation made to him, citing business affairs keeping him much too busy to be lolling around in fields of cows.

  Patience had also been quite indignant at the thought of cutting short her visit with the Dobsons all for the sake of a duke. That was, until she discovered that Mr Dobson had also been invited. After which she had been all smiles and anticipating the treat with a great deal of delight.

  Mr Mitchell had not been so pleased when he learned that Amelia was to continue as chaperon to the girls at the Duke’s request. A shrewd man of the world, he had eyed her with great suspicion when she informed him. However, after an invitation to dine with the Duke and their after-dinner conversation over brandy and cigars, he became sanguine.

  Stone had reported to Amelia the following day that it had been a most edifying conversation. She could only imagine.

  Amelia did not go with the girls to Worthing. Lady Dobson was chaperon enough. Instead, she went to visit her family in Cirencester. Three weeks of fetching and carrying for her cousin’s wife, who loved the idea of an unpaid servant, was enough to convince Amelia she was doing the right thing in maintaining her independence. It was without regret that she boarded the mail coach bound for London where the Duke had arranged for a post chaise to take her to Stone Hall.

  * * *

  She was the first of his guests to arrive. The view of the house was spectacular when they turned into the drive. She had heard that it was the smallest of the ducal estates. Even so, she had expected it to be grander, somehow. Instead, its seventeenth-century-style roofs, chimneys and dark red brick at one end and the adjoining medieval tower gave it a quaint, cosy appearance. The surrounding park was not more than thirty acres, with ancient trees framing the house to the east and west.

  The carriage stopped for her to alight at the front door and then drove away around to the back.

  Lady Mary greeted her most kindly and showed her to her room in what she called the new wing.

  ‘Your room lies between that of Miss Mitchell and Miss Patience,’ Lady Mary said, throwing open the door.

  It was how she herself would have arranged matters. The room was quite lovely, beautifully decorated in pale green and white, with a four-poster bed against one wall and two armchairs either side of a fireplace with a carved fireplace.

  ‘I hope it meets with your approval?’ Lady Mary asked.

  ‘It does indeed. Thank you, Lady Mary. This is most comfortable.’

  She strolled over to the window looking out over the park and into the distance. In a valley not far off, the spire of a church rose above the trees and grey roofs signified a nearby village. ‘The view is lovely.’

  Lady Mary joined her at the window. ‘The village of Stonehaven sits on the edge of the park. To be honest, I was surprised when Stone told me he had decided to spend part of the summer here. He has not been here since he was a boy. I was not sure he recalled it at all.’

  The puzzlement in the older woman’s face made no sense. ‘It strikes me as the sort of place that should be lived in.’

  ‘It was, until his parents died. They resided here more than anywhere else. Anyway, it is of no moment. This is where he has chosen to spend the summer.’ Another carriage rolled up the drive. ‘Ah, more guests arriving. We will gather in the drawing room before dinner. At six. We are keeping country hours while we are here. If you need anything, ring the bell, the housekeeper will be happy to assist.’

  She bustled away.

  Amelia frowned at the carriage as it slowed and drew up. From this angle, she could not see who alighted. She had neglected to ask who else was to make up the party at Stone Hall. Not that it mattered, she supposed. By the end of the three weeks, the Duke would have made his offer and, once Dobson made his for Patience as he surely would without much delay, Amelia could retire to her cottage in the country as she had planned all along.

  Except the idea did not thrill her the way it used to.

  * * *

  His valet helped Jasper into his tight-fitting evening coat. ‘Will that be all, Your Grace?’

  ‘It will, thank you, Flynn.’

  The valet tidied up the items on the dressing table, while Jasper walked from his bedchamber to the sitting room that adjoined it and poured himself a brandy. He had not visited Stone Hall since he left here shortly after his parents’ death. It was the oldest of the ducal estates. The first property the Warren family had owned on their way up the societal ladder to their current exalted social position. Exactly as he had feared, the memory of his parents lived on in every room. Especially the lord’s suite. He could recall being allowed to watch his father at his toilette in this suite of rooms on days when his parents h
ad guests.

  Why on earth had he decided to invite his guests here? He had so many other choices. Stoneborough Castle was far more impressive. Yet he had the feeling his prospective bride might well be deterred by its grandeur.

  A sharp rap at the door and his Aunt Mary entered. He turned his head and narrowed his gaze on her worried expression.

  ‘What is the matter?’

  ‘I have received a note from Albert.’

  His shoulders stiffened. He forced calm into his voice. ‘What is it this time?’ He’d seemed in fine fettle at Vauxhall.

  ‘A small matter of a debt he will settle at the beginning of the next quarter. Poor lad. The position he obtained did not work out well. A matter of personalities, he said. He is always so unlucky. Unless—’

  ‘I will not pay any more of Albert’s debts. He must live within his means the same as the rest of us.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘No, Aunt.’ Albert, as Jasper knew to his cost, would not appreciate the generosity one little bit and would likely run up more debt, seeing it as a sign of weakness.

  Aunt Mary sighed. ‘I will write to him at once and let him know.’

  And likely enclose money of her own.

  ‘You know we have not had a visit from him in an age, though the dear boy always writes to me once a week.’

  He had not visited because Jasper preferred to keep the ‘dear boy’ at a distance. He glanced at the clock. It wanted a quarter of an hour until six. ‘I suppose we should go down.’

  ‘Yes, indeed. I informed our guests to gather in the drawing room at six as you requested.’

  It would not be polite for guests to arrive and not find their host waiting for them. Jasper held out his arm. ‘Shall we?’ He escorted her down to the drawing room.

  Stone Hall had originally been built as a fortified manor. The lord’s chamber was located in the squat tower reached by way of a staircase at one end of the medieval Great Hall, where in times of old his knights would have eaten and slept. Now the Great Hall served as a reception room when guests came to call, and a new wing had been added on the other side some time during the previous century and included a formal dining room and guest bedrooms.

  As a child he had loved the romance of this ancient baronial dwelling. As he had so often done as a child when leaving his parents’ bedchamber, he stopped halfway down the steps and glanced through the peephole set in the wall, put there so the baron could observe the company without being seen. The lower chamber was empty, but in the old days, when the lord made a grand entrance, he would have been able to see, and more importantly, hear, the interactions between his guests before he went among them. These days, he would no more dream of spying on his visitors than he would dream of running across his lawns naked.

  He proceeded down the last few steps and entered the hall with its hammer-beam roof towering some twenty feet above. His steps echoed loudly as he crossed the room to his butler standing beside the console from which refreshments would be served.

  ‘All in readiness, Bedwell?’

  ‘Yes, Your Grace,’ the butler said, then gazed straight ahead.

  Light poured through the west-facing stained-glass windows. The familial coats of arms cast jewel-like colours on the flagstone floor. Heavy carved chairs were set around the walls. In the centre of the floor one could still see the dark soot stains made by the brazier which would have warmed the room in ancient times. Directly above, if one looked carefully, one could see the hole in the roof through which the smoke would have, eventually, made its way out.

  He had played knights and dragons in this room as a child. His father had been the dragon.

  Light footsteps in the stone corridor that joined the old wing to the new announced the imminent arrival of some of his guests.

  He braced himself. Why the hell was he feeling nervous?

  The Mitchell sisters entered with Mrs Durant right behind.

  He came forward to meet them. ‘Welcome to Stone Hall, ladies. I hope you have found everything to your liking?’

  The ladies chorused their greetings and praise for their accommodations. Mrs Durant’s smiles and assurances seemed a little forced to his eyes, but he played the good host and soon everyone had a glass of something suitable and he was giving them a brief history of the estate.

  ‘There really is a spy hole?’ Charity asked, looking upwards.

  ‘You cannot see it from here,’ he said. ‘It is very cleverly concealed, but it is hidden among the carvings up there in the corner.’

  ‘Surely, in those days, guests would have expected something of the sort and would have been very careful not to expose themselves,’ Mrs Durant said drily.

  He laughed. ‘My thought exactly. Indeed, it might have been more of a deterrent to conspiracy than a way of uncovering it.’

  She looked intrigued. ‘I had not considered it from that angle.’

  ‘Can we see it?’ Patience asked, just as he had expected she would, of course.

  ‘Most certainly.’ He led them through the narrow doorway in the corner of the room and up the stone steps to the small landing with another door into a room, directly below his chamber.

  ‘What is through there?’ Patience asked.

  Trust her to be curious. ‘That is my study. My sanctuary of sorts. I believe at one time it was a solar for the lady of the manor.’

  Each lady took a turn looking down into the great hall. While Charity was peering down the angled slit a voice echoed up from below.

  ‘Where is everyone?’

  Every word was clear and distinct. She jumped back. She tottered at the edge of the step and Jasper reach out to catch her elbow before she took a tumble.

  ‘Lord Sherbourn is here?’ she gasped as he steadied her.

  ‘Ah, yes. Mr Dobson asked if he might join us, since they are good friends and Sherbourn had no plans for the summer.’

  Amelia was looking at him as if he had run mad. Perhaps she would understand better, once he had explained. He hoped.

  * * *

  The evening had passed pleasantly enough, but Amelia had suffered a great deal of anxiety throughout. Now back in her chamber with time to think, she paced back and forth. What on earth had Jasper been thinking in permitting Lord Sherbourn to join their party? He himself had remarked on Charity’s interest in the young man and here he was, throwing them together.

  Amelia had spent the entire evening trying to make sure Lord Sherbourn did not monopolise Charity, trying to draw his attention to herself until Charity had sent a gaze full of hurt her way.

  Good heavens, did the foolish chit think Amelia could possibly be interested in a man at least five years younger than she? What a mess. She needed a word with the Duke of Stone. And the sooner the better.

  A rap on the door halted her perambulations. ‘Come.’

  The sisters’ maid, Hooper, bustled in. ‘Sorry to be so long, ma’am, we couldn’t find Miss Patience’s hairbrush. It somehow got to the bottom of the clothes press.’

  ‘That is all right, Hooper, I can ready myself for bed. You must be exhausted after such a busy day.’

  The maid had been up since dawn, packing and readying the girls and then unpacking them when they arrived. Still, the young woman looked doubtful. ‘I don’t mind, Mrs Durant. Truly, I don’t.’

  Amelia shook her head. ‘I am not ready to retire. I have letters to write.’

  The maid bobbed a curtsy. ‘As you wish, ma’am. I do truly be tired.’ She left.

  Amelia breathed a sigh of relief and glanced at the clock. Surely Jasper would not be in bed at ten? She really needed to speak to him, before this country house party turned into a disaster.

  She waited a few minutes, not wishing to run into Hooper on her way downstairs, then she set out.

  There were two places she could look for the foolish man. His
study and the library. He had kindly pointed these rooms out to his guests when he had guided them from the Great Hall to the dining room located in the newer wing.

  She opted for his study as the first place to look. She knocked and entered.

  He was seated behind his desk with a glass of wine in his hand. Oddly, he did not seem surprised to see her on his threshold and pushed to his feet. ‘Mrs Durant? Is something amiss?’

  ‘It would seem so, Stone.’ She closed the door behind her. When she turned back, he had come around from behind his desk. He was wearing an opulent silk navy blue dressing gown with turquoise dragons. Where it opened at the throat, she could see he had discarded his cravat for a loosely tied neckerchief. He looked relaxed and deliciously attractive.

  Her stomach did an odd little flip. Why, oh, why did she find him so alluring? Whenever she had allowed herself to daydream, he’d always popped into her head as a salutary lesson of the sort of man she should avoid. She thought perhaps she might meet and wed a pleasant country squire, who already had his heir and spare, or perhaps a vicar with a congregation where she could do some good. But she’d gone and got herself in a tangle over a duke who saw her only as a passing fancy.

  ‘What brings you to my door at so late an hour?’ His deep voice caressed her skin and sent a shiver down her back.

  She gritted her teeth against the sensation and the implication in his words. ‘Not what you might think.’ Her anger at herself made her speak sharply.

  He raised an eyebrow at her tone, but seemed unperturbed ‘Please, have a seat.’ He glanced down at himself. ‘I hope you will forgive the informality of my dress. I was not expecting company.’

  She waved a dismissive hand, when what she wanted to do was run her hand down his arm and feel the silky fabric against her skin. She seated herself on one of the chairs beside a small table where a game of chess was in progress. White was winning.

  ‘May I offer you a nightcap? Something to help you sleep, perhaps?’

  She shot him a glance, but his expression was perfectly innocent. ‘Brandy. A little.’ It wasn’t sleep she needed, but courage.