The Matchmaker and the Duke Page 8

  And he certainly liked this relative of hers better than Albert. ‘Trotter.’ He inclined his head.

  Mr Trotter bowed as low as a large paunch would allow. ‘Honoured, Your Worship. Indeed, I ham.’

  Jasper controlled the urge to chuckle at Trotter’s attempt to sound refined, because he knew the man was trying his best to show respect.

  Trotter turned to his niece. ‘My dear girl, such a delight to see you. It is a long time since me and Queenie had the pleasure of your company.’ He turned to Jasper and winked. ‘Young people these days do not have the least idea of the pleasure their company gives to senior members of their family.’

  He pinched Mrs Durant’s cheek and leaned in, speaking in a theatrical whisper. ‘Your aunt would love you to visit us again, my girl. Never you fear, you will always find a warm welcome at Maldings.’

  Mrs Durant smiled at him and there was such fondness in that smile Jasper felt a strange stab of envy. ‘I will, Uncle. Very soon, I think.’

  The portly man grinned. ‘See that you do. Ah, I see the curtain is about to rise. I shall leave you to enjoy the theatrics.’ He bowed and left.

  Mr Dobson bid them farewell and followed him out.

  Jasper gestured to the footman at the back of the box to clear away the glasses and they all took their seats.

  ‘He seemed an interesting man,’ he murmured to Mrs Durant, trying to put her at ease.

  ‘Yes, Your Grace. He is.’ She sounded defensive. ‘The Trotters are relations on my mother’s side of the family and the kindest people in the world. I lived with them for a while when my cousin inherited the title. It seems you are not the only one with odd relatives, though I am happy to acknowledge mine.’

  Did she expect him to explain Albert who was neither a relation or kind? The less said about him the better.

  Chapter Six

  Amelia sighed. No doubt she would be receiving a stiff note from some member of the Linden family on the morrow about her temerity in acknowledging her uncle in public.

  She hated the snobbery. Joshua Trotter was an honest man and he and his wife had been exceedingly kind to her when she had lost her parents. Their kindness in welcoming her into their family, the fun and the laughter she had encountered among them had been exactly what she had needed. She regretted her hasty departure from their home on the insistence of her Cousin Linden. They had bribed her with the offer of a come out and then married her off as quickly as possible to Durant. A way of them divesting themselves of a connection to those they considered beneath them.

  She pushed the thoughts aside. Soon she would have complete independence from her family and she could visit and speak with whomsoever she pleased.

  And she certainly did not care a fig for what Stone thought of her relatives. Not one. He was another man too full of his own consequence to see the worth in others. The sooner he made an offer for Charity, the sooner she could be out of his company and getting on with her future.

  A pang struck her in the centre of her chest. What? Did she actually care what Stone thought of her? Well, even if she did, there was nothing she could do about it. To prove it, she would write to Uncle Joshua and arrange a visit the moment the Mitchell girls had received their offers of marriage.

  * * *

  When the play finished and the curtain fell, she realised she had not heard one word of what was said on stage, she had been too busy with her whirling thoughts.

  Stone placed her wrap around her shoulders as they prepared to leave the box.

  ‘I have never laughed so hard in my life,’ Patience said. ‘You did not seem to find any humour in the farce, Mrs Durant.’

  Amelia blushed. ‘I most certainly did.’ Dash it all, was she going to lie? ‘Or at least I did, when I saw it before. Quite honestly, I was busy with my own thoughts throughout.’

  Stone gave her a sharp glance, but did not comment. He expertly guided them out of the theatre to his waiting carriage and, after a little jostling with the other carriages, they were soon on their way home.

  She and Stone sat side by side, facing backwards, while Charity and Patience sat opposite, as his guests. If they had been seated by order of precedence, it was Patience who should have been seated beside the Duke, but given her youth and single state, Amelia had made very sure that did not happen.

  The girls chatted happily about the plays they had seen and Stone interjected his views from time to time, leaving Amelia to listen and marvel at his patience. Not for a moment did it appear as if he found their artless chatter and naive comments a trial.

  Even if he wasn’t particularly warm, it seemed he would be a respectful and kindly husband. If only Charity was not enamoured of Sherbourn, a young man who was up in the boughs one moment and down in the dumps the next. How could Charity prefer him to Stone? It made no sense.

  Likely, once Stone proposed and made his admiration clear, the young woman would forget all about Lord Sherbourn. Amelia hoped.

  ‘Do you return to your own house now, Mrs Durant?’

  Amelia was jolted out of her unhappy thoughts by the Duke’s low voice.

  She glanced out of her window and realised they were almost at the Mitchell town house.

  ‘I do, indeed. Mr Mitchell will send me home in his carriage.’

  ‘There is no sense in turning out another coachman, when mine is already on the road. Allow me to drive you.’

  It sounded more like a command than a request. Her shoulders stiffened.

  ‘It is the least I can do,’ he added.

  Dash it, he was right, of course. Despite that she really did not want to be alone with him, there was nothing improper about it, given that the carriage was closed, she was a widow and a respectable chaperon. Indeed, it would look very odd if he did not make the offer and carry it out. It would be ungentlemanly. ‘Thank you.’

  The carriage pulled up and Stone delivered the two girls to the front door where the butler and a maid were waiting for them.

  They would have to forgo their post-mortem of the evening until the morrow. In the meantime, this was her perfect opportunity to discover Stone’s intentions and to point out that it was high time he made them clear to the world. The Season was short and if he did not intend to make Charity an offer, they needed to stop wasting their time on him.

  She covered her mouth with her hand at the terrible way those thoughts sounded even to her own ears. Mercenary and cold. Had she really become so jaded?

  It was not the way she had decided to undertake these matchmaking affairs when she set out. She had planned that only if she could truly see the couple would deal well with each other would she promote a match. Could Charity settle in well with Stone? Indeed, would Stone be satisfied with such a naive young woman as a duchess?

  No doubt he planned to mould her to his way of thinking and going on. But would that sort of structured life make Charity miserable? Amelia felt doubt deep in her bones.

  The carriage door opened and Stone climbed in. He took her hand and urged her towards the forward-facing seat. It was a recognition of her rank she had not expected from him, particularly now he had met the distaff side of her family. The man was full of surprises.

  Seating himself opposite, he rapped on the ceiling with his cane and the horses moved off. ‘So, what had your thoughts so busy during the play, Amelia?’

  She started at the use of her first name. Her heart picked up speed in the oddest way. ‘I was thinking about my uncle and how soon I might visit Maldings.’

  It wasn’t the truth, but she could hardly tell him her thoughts had been full of him.

  ‘He is a worthy man.’

  She stared at him surprised he would unbend enough to make such an admission. Perhaps her worries about him and Charity were unfounded. ‘I am very fond of him and his family. The Lindens prefer not to acknowledge them.’

  Was that his s
ticking point with Charity?

  They had arrived at her little house. Perhaps she ought to make Stone aware of how stern he might appear to a young woman as impressionable as Charity. Give him some guidance. ‘Would you like to come in for a cup of tea?’

  His gaze widened.

  Really? Was he thinking she was about to make inappropriate advances to him. Well, she might like to, but that was not her purpose.

  ‘Yes,’ he said, in that decisive way he had and jumped down.

  After a quiet word with his coachman, he helped her out of the carriage and escorted her to her front door.

  As she reached her front door, heat rose up from her belly. Never before had she invited a man to enter her little home. But the heat was not at all unpleasant. Indeed, the flutter in her stomach and the pattering of her heart made her feel young and almost girlish.

  But this was nonsense. They were about to speak of the Duke and his plans to marry Charity.

  She opened her front door.

  * * *

  As instructed, Jasper stepped into the parlour while Mrs Durant asked the maid who had taken their coats to bring a tea tray. Rarely did he enter rooms as small as this. It reminded him of the homes of tenant farmers he had visited upon occasion, only without the pervading smell of nearby animals. Indeed, all he could smell in here was the scent worn by Mrs Durant. A combination of exotic spices he found intriguing.

  Like the woman herself.

  Just why had she invited him into her home? To charm him? Somehow it seemed out of character.

  Nevertheless, his blood ran warm through his veins. There really was no denying the spark of attraction he felt whenever she was nearby.

  He glanced around the room as if it could give him some clue to the woman herself. The paucity of knick-knacks and memorabilia surprised him. The only painting on the wall was a landscape by an artist he did not know. It was not a feminine room or even homely. It had a temporary feel to it, as if its occupant had merely alighted here for a brief time.

  Much like the feeling he got at Stoneborough, the ducal seat. Dukes used it during their term of office and then passed it on to their successors. Some left more of an impression upon the landscape and buildings than others, but all held it in trust. To him, it had never felt like much of a home.

  The rustle of skirts had him swinging around. She had removed her headdress and discarded her shawl, but still looked elegant in her pale grey silk gown. Its narrow skirts complemented her slender figure.

  ‘What a charming little home you have here,’ he said.

  She pursed her lips as if she did not trust his words. ‘It is small, I know, and the location not fashionable, but it suits me for the time being.’

  Clearly, she had taken his comment as a criticism. ‘It seems ideal.’

  ‘For a woman in my position, you mean.’

  Prickly female. There really was no pleasing her. Why was he even trying? ‘What was your reason for inviting me to take tea with you, Mrs Durant?’

  Her eyes narrowed and she gazed at him intently. ‘More to the point, my lord Duke, what is holding you back?’

  He stiffened at the hostility in her tone. ‘I do not take your meaning.’

  She closed her eyes briefly. A sweep of long dark lashes. She really did have the most fascinating almond-shaped eyes and perhaps the longest eyelashes he had ever seen.

  ‘With regard to Miss Mitchell,’ she said with an impatient wave of her hand. ‘If you have concerns about her station in life, for what purpose do you continue to pay her attention?’

  Stunned, he stared at her. ‘Are you suggesting my intentions are dishonourable?’

  ‘An invitation to share your box, without other guests present, seems a little nearer the mark than I care for. I must think of her reputation. She is a beautiful girl, and wealthy, but you are not in need of wealth.’

  He drew himself up and gave her a look that would shrivel any lesser mortal. Except her. She glared back at him.

  ‘Your assumptions with regard to my character are far from complimentary, Mrs Durant. But let me answer your question. I do not feel I know the young woman well enough to make her an offer. That was my intention in making my invitation for this evening. I assumed your presence and that of her sister was enough to stem unwarranted gossip.’

  She deflated a little, gestured for him to take a seat and sat down on the sofa. He sat beside her, rather than take the chair opposite.

  She shifted uncomfortably, but said nothing.

  Good, he wanted her to feel uncomfortable.

  ‘That was what I told myself when I accepted your invitation,’ she said, ‘but we attracted a great deal of attention and...’

  ‘I always attract a good deal of attention.’

  Her eyes widened. Then she nodded as if accepting the truth of his words.

  ‘You know, Mrs Durant, as you yourself have noted, Miss Mitchell seems far more interested in young Sherbourn than she is in me.’

  Pink stained her high cheekbones. ‘I—’

  The maid entered with the tea tray.

  Mrs Durant pressed her lips together and waited until the young woman departed before speaking again. ‘As I also observed, Miss Mitchell knows where her duty lies.’

  The pit of his stomach fell away in a sickening rush he did not understand. Duty had always been his guide. Duty and honour. Doing the right thing for the dukedom and for England.

  He had always assumed that it was the right thing for him, too.

  He recalled Aunt Mary’s blathering about happiness a few days before and the resultant feeling of restlessness. ‘Is that to be her fate, then? Married to a man for duty. What of her happiness?’

  A frown met his words. A troubled expression. Did she also have doubts?

  Mrs Durant gave a little shake of her head. ‘She is young. Impressionable. A man like Sherbourn might well turn her head, in the first instance, but that does not mean he will make her happy. It would certainly not please her papa to—’

  She hesitated.

  ‘To throw away the chance of marrying a duke in favour of the heir to a penniless earldom.’

  ‘Wealth is not important. Miss Mitchell’s fortune will stand her in good stead whomsoever she marries. Her father will see to that. No, it is not that. Lord Sherbourn is very young. I wonder if he is ready to settle down.’

  ‘Not to mention the money you would lose.’

  She leaped to her feet. ‘You think I would sacrifice the girl’s happiness for money?’

  He rose. ‘I have no idea what your motives are.’

  Her dark eyes flashed. Her hand whipped towards his face.

  She would have slapped him, if he had not caught her wrist. Her other hand came up and he caught that, too.

  He glared down into her furious face, the gold in her eyes glittering with anger. Her rapid breathing causing her lovely bosom to rise and fall within the skimpy confines of her low-cut bodice. She looked magnificent.

  He could not help himself.

  He kissed her.

  * * *

  For a brief instant, Amelia froze.

  How dared he...?

  How soft and gentle his lips were against hers.

  How fast her heart beat.

  How dizzy and breathless she felt.

  His grip around her wrists loosened. She tugged slightly and he released her.

  She sighed and slid her arms around his firm torso. She had longed to know his kisses from the moment she saw him again in that ballroom. Not true. The longing had started when she was fresh out of the schoolroom when she had been young and impressionable and had stars in her eyes.

  She was older now. Wiser. She knew this moment meant nothing more than a kiss between adults who were irresistibly attracted to each other on some animal level they would both prefer to deny.
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  But denial had not done her a bit of good. The longing would not go away. So why not enjoy the moment and prove to herself her desire was as ill-founded now as it had been when she had been a girl?

  Besides, what harm would it do? He was as yet a bachelor and she was a widow. Did she not deserve a little excitement in her life?

  She leaned into him, responding to the light pressure of his lips against hers, moving her mouth against him, sipping at him like a butterfly delicately sips nectar.

  He raised his head. His expression as he gazed into her face was that of a man bemused. ‘I—’

  Fearing an apology, she briefly touched a finger to his lips, before brushing it along the hard bone of his jaw and sliding her hand around the back of his neck, urging his head downwards so she could reach his lovely mouth.

  Once more their lips melded. This time, the heat of passion made her bold. She responded to the movement of his mouth over hers by parting her lips. His tongue gently flicked across them, tasting, requesting.

  Her husband’s kisses had been rare and hasty. He’d resented their marriage. Blamed her for it. And perhaps he’d been right to do so.

  This kiss was different. Lingering, sweet, unhurried. A gentle exploration. A sense of urgency built within her. A need to know more. This man who seemed so cool, so distant from everyday worries, heated her blood, fevered her mind until she no longer cared about wrong or right.

  And besides, once the Mitchell sisters were safely married off, she would retire to the country as she had planned. There would be no running into the Duke at balls or routs and the ton would soon forget she ever existed. So why not sample what this man offered?

  Likely she would be as disappointed in him as she had been in her husband, which would see an end to her fascination.

  She stepped closer and he widened his stance, bringing her body flush with his, her breasts pushing against his chest. A large warm hand cupped her derrière and held her close.