Cinderella And The Duke

Leo remained quiet, observing as brother and sister shared the joke. It was obvious they were close, despite Rosalind’s tendency to take the reins. Freddie appeared an easy-going young man who accepted her assumption of control rather than cause a fuss.

‘Oh...well...it appears I have no choice but to assist you myself, Mr Boyton.’

A blush tinted Rosalind’s cheeks. Was she, like him, remembering their earlier, similar conversation? At the memory of that almost kiss, blood pounded Leo’s veins, pooling in his groin. How long since his body had reacted with such unruly eagerness? She was so near, almost touching him, her scent weaving through his senses...the very air seemed to crackle between them. Freddie would have to be blind not to notice the frisson.

‘Perhaps your brother might help?’

Rosalind’s eyes brimmed with sympathy as she caught her brother’s eye. Freddie’s lips twisted and Leo cursed his own insensitivity.

‘Would that I could,’ he said, after a moment’s fraught silence, his tone suspiciously airy, ‘but with my appalling balance...or lack of it, I should say... I should end up on the floor.’

Rosalind again indicated the chair by the fire.

‘If you would care to sit, sir?’

A gentleman, surely, should at this point decline the offer and be on his way. But Leo was not ready to leave: he was intrigued by both Rosalind and Freddie. He sat.

‘Please raise your leg.’

She was close enough that her scent again wove its enchantment around him. He could hear her breathing, surely faster than it should be? She could not conceal her body’s reactions—she was as affected by their nearness as he. She moved to stand by his extended foot and grasped his boot at the ankle. Leo smiled at her fierce determination as she heaved until the boot came off with a slurp and a splatter of drops on to the flagstone floor. Rosalind looked up and their eyes met. She touched her upper lip with the tip of her tongue and he responded with a surge of lust so powerful he could barely stop himself from reaching for her there and then.

Her blush deepened and her lashes lowered.

‘There. Now, if you care to remove your stocking, sir, I shall hang it by the fire to dry.’

Leo did as he was bid. Freddie’s scowl had returned as he looked from Rosalind to Leo and back again.

‘Do you care to partake of some refreshments whilst your boot dries?’ Rosalind asked. ‘A cup of tea, or perhaps something stronger?’

‘Thank you. Tea would be splendid.’

‘I will fetch the tea caddy and brew the tea,’ Freddie said.

‘There is no need, I can do it.’

Again, Leo caught that flash of irritation from her brother as Rosalind hurried to a door at the other end of the kitchen and then emerged with a caddy and a teapot.

‘Would you show Mr Boyton to the sitting room, please, Freddie? I will bring the tray through when it is ready.’

‘Might I trouble you to remove my other boot, in that case, Mrs Pryce?’

About to add a jest about having to hobble to the sitting room, Leo caught his words, having no wish to add to Freddie’s discomfort and, again, his heart went out to him. How must it feel to a young man to be unable to do the things others took so much for granted?

‘I will find you a pair of slippers to prevent your feet becoming chilled.’ Freddie started towards the door.

Rosalind, who had positioned herself to tug at Leo’s other boot, almost snatched it from his foot. ‘I will do it, Freddie.’ She rushed across the room to forestall him. ‘There is no need for you to struggle up the stairs. If you show Mr Boyton to the sitting room, I will bring the slippers there.’

‘If you would care to follow me, sir?’

Freddie’s wooden expression and voice revealed his resignation. Could Rosalind not see how damaging her cossetting ways were to the young man’s self-esteem? Leo could not doubt it was kindly meant, but was she really so blinkered as not to recognise the effect upon her brother?

Freddie led the way to an over-furnished, old-fashioned sitting room and gestured to one of a pair of chairs by the fire before sitting on the other. Hector, who had followed them, flopped in front of the fire and stretched out on his side with a sigh.

‘You mistook me for my cousin before,’ Leo said, when Freddie seemed disinclined to begin a conversation. ‘I feel it incumbent upon me to apologise for the offence he caused.’

The preoccupied frown lifted from Freddie’s face and he grinned. ‘You do not doubt he caused offence then, sir?’

‘I do not. Quite apart from your reaction upon your first sight of me, I know my cousin and his...shall we say, quite unique way of endearing himself to others.’

The frown returned. ‘I cannot say I am overjoyed at the prospect of having Mr Lascelles as a neighbour.’

‘Was he intolerably rude?’

‘Not quite intolerably. I consider myself something of an expert in the art of exercising tolerance in the face of others’ unthinking comments.’ A smile lit Freddie’s countenance and then was gone. ‘Name-calling cannot, after all, hurt.’

Leo had never believed the truth of that statement. Name-calling, thoughtless comments, sly looks: they could hurt as much as physical pain.

‘I should have anticipated he would discover your sister’s whereabouts after our previous encounter.’

Freddie sat forward. ‘Previous encounter?’

So Rosalind had not told her brother, presumably protecting him.

‘Mrs Pryce did not mention our meeting the other day?’

‘No, she did not. Will you tell me what happened?’

Leo would not patronise the other man by shielding him from the truth. ‘My cousin was, I fear, quite objectionable to your sister. Although, to be fair, we all thought she was perhaps a farmer’s wife or daughter. She was rounding up sheep when we came upon her in the lane.’

‘Ah. Now, she did tell me about that.’

‘My cousin had ridden ahead of the rest of us—’

‘Rest of you? How many?’

‘Four in total. We are visiting for a couple of weeks. Next week we return to London.’

‘Lascelles, too?’

‘As far as I am aware...yes, Lascelles, too. It might set your mind at rest to know he is not a country lover. He purchased Halsdon Manor for its nearness to London, to enjoy the occasional hunting and shooting trip. He is unlikely to pay frequent visits.’

‘I doubt we shall be here much longer anyway,’ Freddie said. ‘What did he say to my sister, Mr Boyton?’

‘I did not hear his precise words, but suffice it to say that when we came upon the two of them your sister had raised a stick to my cousin and your dog appeared on the brink of attack.’

He should have found out exactly what had passed between them. Knowing Lascelles had taken the trouble to find out where Rosalind lived did not bode well. The past few days had revealed more of his cousin’s character than he would wish to know.

Freddie’s hands clenched into fists. ‘I should be able to protect her.’ The words sounded as though they were wrenched from him. ‘Rosalind has spent her life helping to raise us, but even though I am older than the others, it is I who will continue to be a burden upon her.’

The others? Who else was there? Where were they?

‘I am sure your sister does not view you as a burden.’

Freddie’s eyes glittered, and he blinked rapidly. ‘She is too selfless to think of me as such, but that does not stop me feeling useless.’

‘You mentioned others—have you more brothers or sisters?’

Rosalind had spoken only of Freddie, but Benson had mentioned another sister.

Unease flickered across Freddie’s face. ‘There are two others, but it is just me and Rosalind now.’

Leo did not pursue the subject. He had quite enough to ponder as it was.

* * *

‘Why did you not tell me you had already made the acquaintance of our new neighbour, Ros?’

Bother! Why did I not warn Leo not to mention our previous meeting?

Rosalind took her time before replying, putting the tea tray on the table and handing the slippers, which she had tucked beneath her arm, to Leo. He took them with a smile and a deep murmur of thanks that melted through her like butter on warm toast.

Only as she poured the tea did she say, ‘I did not wish to trouble you.’

As she handed Leo his cup and saucer, she could not miss the knot of muscles on either side of Freddie’s jaw.

‘It is not about troubling me, but about sharing your worries.’ His words rang with bitterness. ‘Can you not accept that I can provide moral support even if I am unable to protect you physically?’

Rosalind paused in the act of handing her brother his cup of tea. When had he become so irritable?

‘Oh, Freddie.’ The ever-ready guilt flooded her. Why had it not been she who was injured? Why had she escaped with mere bruises whilst Freddie’s life had been altered beyond measure? ‘I am sorry. You are right. I am thoughtless. I am so accustomed to... I simply do not think at times...after all this time it is hard to remember you are a grown man and not just my younger brother. And after all that has happened—’

With a lurch of horror, she bit off her words. What was she thinking, running on so in such an ill-considered fashion?

‘I apologise, Mr Boyton. What must you think of us?’

Freddie took his cup from her with a look of reproach. Well, she deserved that. She forced a laugh.

‘That is more than enough about our family. Tell me, Mr Boyton, are you familiar with the countryside around here?’

They indulged in stilted small talk whilst they drank their tea, Rosalind painfully aware of the speculation in Leo’s eyes every time they alighted upon her. Thankfully, it was not long before he rose to his feet.

‘I have trespassed upon your hospitality long enough.’

‘Not at all,’ Rosalind said, but stood up and led the way to the door lest he changed his mind. ‘It was the least I could do after you rescued my hat. I am certain your stocking will be dry by now.’

Leo made his farewells to Freddie, who made no attempt to follow them from the room.

As soon as she entered the kitchen Rosalind hurried over to the fireplace and snatched at the stocking. ‘Yes, this is dry.’ She bent to scoop Leo’s boot from the floor. ‘And although your boot is still damp, it is an improvement, I am sure. And it is not so far to Halsdon Manor. I am sure you will—oh!’

Leo had followed her across the room and, as she straightened, he was right beside her. He lifted her chin with one finger, tilting her gaze to his.

‘I understand you are anxious, Rosalind, but there is no need to fill every second of silence. You may tell me “all that has happened” if you wish, but I shall not interrogate you.’

Conversely, his words fuelled her apprehension. He saw far too much with that keen silver-grey gaze.

Leo released her chin and sat down to pull on his stocking and his boots. ‘Your brother mentioned, though, that you are unlikely to remain here much longer. Where will you go?’

‘Oh. I do not... That is, I am not certain.’

She had avoided thinking beyond their immediate future. She had not planned much further than ensuring Nell was safe. She and Freddie could not impose on Sir William’s hospitality for ever, but where were they to go? Back to Lydney? The idea was unpalatable, with Sir Peter—as far as she knew—still in residence, and yet she could not leave him in sole charge, and what of the school holidays? Jack must return in the summer and she would have to go back then. She could not leave him to Sir Peter’s care.

She sighed. Indecision. It had plagued her ever since they fled Lydney. She did not know what to do for the best. The only decision she had reached was to wait until Nell’s Season was complete. Maybe that would show her the way forward.

‘What is it?’ A gentle finger feathered between her tight brows. Leo had finished pulling on his boots whilst she was lost in thought and now stood before her. ‘You are troubled. Allow me to help.’

Rosalind swallowed the ache of tears at those gentle words. How she wished...but there was nothing he could do to help.

‘I am sorry. It is nothing.’ She stretched her lips in a smile. ‘We might stay here. I have not decided yet.’

‘You have not decided? Does your brother not have a say in what you do?’

‘It was a figure of speech. I meant we.’

‘Your brother... He is a man. He has a man’s pride.’

Rosalind frowned at him. ‘He is my brother. You have only just met him.’

Leo regarded her thoughtfully. ‘I had no intention of annoying you. I do wonder, however, if—’

‘It is not your business to wonder at what my brother and I do or how we live, sir.’

Nerves fluttered within as his brow lowered. That had been rude. Nonetheless, she stifled her urge to apologise. Her family was her business and no concern of anyone else. Particularly someone they had only just met and who could have no idea of what life had thrown at them.

‘What happened to your brother’s leg?’

The abrupt change in conversation took her by surprise and she answered without any censorship of her words.

‘It was a carriage accident. Freddie’s leg was crushed and our father was killed. My mother and I were uninjured.’

‘I see. And how old was Freddie?’

She did not care for the understanding in those silvery eyes. It made her feel like weeping. ‘He was one year old.’

‘And you were...what...three? Four?’

‘Six. I was six.’ Her birthday. She stamped on the memory of that terrible day even as her hand crept, without volition, to the comfort of her locket and the memory of Grandpa, of sitting on his lap as he told her stories.

‘Your father was killed, you say. Where is your mother now?’

Rosalind grabbed the poker and stirred viciously at the fire. ‘She died when I was nine.’

‘And Freddie would have been only four. Do you have other brothers or sisters?’

That deceptively simple question hovered perilously close to matters Rosalind wished to avoid. She dropped the poker on to the stone hearth with a clatter, and marched across the kitchen to haul open the door.

‘It was kind of you to retrieve my hat, Mr Boyton. I make no doubt you long to return to your friends at Halsdon.’

Leo raised a brow and scrutinised her from head to toe. Then he smiled.

‘We will meet again, Rosalind, before I leave Halsdon. On that you may depend.’

He strolled across the kitchen, taking his hat from the table as he passed. As he neared Rosalind, her breath quickened under the magnetic pull of those extraordinary, omniscient eyes. Might he try to kiss her? Touch her? He did neither. And she was left shaken and bereft as he strode from her sight.

She used her pent-up energy to tidy the kitchen, before taking Freddie his newspaper—ordered daily from London—and the letter she had collected from the village.

‘There was a letter from Jack,’ she said, on entering the room. ‘I could not tell you whilst Mr Boyton was here. Jack writes that Sir Peter visited the school and quizzed him as to Nell’s whereabouts.’

Freddie held out his hand. ‘May I read it for myself?’

‘Of course you may.’ Rosalind handed him the letter. ‘It is addressed to us both. He suggested to Sir Peter that you had expressed a desire to visit Brighton and that he might enquire for us there.’

She laughed, trying to catch Freddie’s attention, but he appeared disinclined to share the joke, managing only the slightest smile in response. Mentally, she shrugged away Freddie’s bad mood. He appeared edgier by the day. Being forced out of Lydney must be affecting him more than she realised.

‘Jack thinks it a fine jape to hoodwink Sir Peter like that, but I pray it will not rebound upon him. Sir Peter is, like it or not, his guardian. He could, if he chooses, impose sanctions or punishments. I worry—’

‘You worry too much.’ Freddie’s vehemence cut short Rosalind’s words.

‘Well, yes...but that is, surely, understandable, Freddie. I worry about you all.’

Freddie did not reply, but the mutinous set of his mouth did not imply agreement.

‘What is wrong, Freddie? I hate to see you so out of sorts. Do you miss home?’

‘Of course I do. Don’t you?’

‘Well, yes, but I make the best—’

‘Do not—’ Freddie levered himself to his feet ‘—tell me to make the best of this...this half-existence.’

‘But...Freddie...we agreed...’ Rosalind trailed into silence at Freddie’s scathing expression.

‘Since we arrived here two and a half weeks ago, I have been stuck in this blasted house and seen no one other than you, Nell and Penny until today. I have been nowhere and now, with the carriage in London, I cannot go anywhere even if my appearance wasn’t likely to set people talking and risk bringing Sir Peter post-haste to our door. Can you not realise how that makes me feel?

‘And, for all my sacrifices, it seems as soon as you make the acquaintance of some random gentleman, all your strictures about me lying low are forgotten and you bring him home. That is quite apart from your attracting the dubious attention of our new neighbour, Lascelles.’

‘That was not my fault, Freddie. And, as for Mr Boyton, mayhap you are right to feel aggrieved that I brought him home, but I simply wished to show my gratitude for a favour. Nell is no longer here to be recognised, after all. Sir Peter cannot harm us, Freddie, even if he does discover our whereabouts. The danger is past.’

‘You know that her reputation could still suffer if it became known we had removed her from her guardian’s care and brought her here, with only us to chaperon her.’ Freddie limped to the door as he spoke. ‘You said yourself that nothing must be allowed to taint her if she is to make the marriage she deserves. Why can you never admit to your mistakes? You like to think yourself infallible, Ros, but you are not.’

Knowing he was right made it hard for Rosalind to be angry with him, but still she was loath to admit herself in the wrong.

‘There is no reason for Mr Boyton to make the connection between us and Lady Helena Caldicot, even if they do meet in London,’ she said. ‘She knows not to speak of us or to mention running away from Sir Peter. And he will not make a fuss. It can be of no advantage to him to harm Nell’s reputation.’

‘Let us hope that you are correct, Sister.’

Freddie left the room, snapping the door shut behind him.

Chapter Six

Leo waited until he could speak to his cousin in private. After dinner that evening, the other two men disappeared in the direction of the billiards room, Vernon having challenged Stanton to a rematch following his defeat the night before. Leo and Lascelles lingered over their port in the dining room, where the table had already been cleared.

Leo pushed his chair back and stretched his legs out under the table. Lascelles eyed him through a haze of cigar smoke.

‘Such a shame you missed most of the chase today,’ he said. ‘I do hope you contrived to amuse yourself.’

Leo shrugged. ‘There is always another hunt, if not this season then next.’

‘There should be another opportunity before we leave here.’ Lascelles leaned forward to stub out his cigar, then fixed Leo with a narrow stare. ‘Something on your mind, Coz?’

Leo raised his brandy glass to his lips and swallowed, savouring the fire of the spirit as it slid down his throat, before answering.

‘There is. I understand you did not stay with the hunt the entire day, either.’

A fleeting smirk crossed Lascelles’s countenance. ‘My mare was unable to stand the pace. I decided to retire. To save her for another day, don’t you know?’

A memory surfaced, of Stanton haranguing Lascelles about his treatment of his horse after their first outing with the hunt. The day they met Rosalind.

‘I am pleased to find you have your animal’s welfare at heart. Did you spend an enjoyable afternoon?’

Lascelles shrugged. ‘It was agreeable enough. I decided to familiarise myself with the neighbourhood and to make the acquaintance of some of my new neighbours.’ The smirk returned as Lascelles locked eyes with Leo. His look suggested there was more to his news than one objectionable visit to Frederick Allen. For the first time, Leo wondered if his cousin was aware of his own activities that afternoon.

‘I heard you called upon Mr Allen.’

‘Allen? Allen? Do I recall...? Oh, yes, indeed. The cripple. His name...somehow...slipped my mind.’

Distaste at his cousin’s sneer clawed at Leo. He would not continue to tiptoe around, guest or not.

‘You are aware, of course, that Mr Allen is the brother of Mrs Pryce?’

Lascelles’s dark eyes widened, mockingly innocent. ‘No, is he, Coz? Well, I shall bow to your superior knowledge of the Delectable Dorcas.’

His use of the nickname they had bestowed upon Rosalind—‘Dorcas’ after Shakespeare’s shepherdess in The Winter’s Tale—irritated Leo, but he held his temper in check. Lascelles was a complex and difficult man, a fact that was becoming more apparent by the day. It behoved Leo to tread carefully around this subject, even though his instinct as head of the family was to lay down the law.

‘You are unused to the customs here and of the behaviour expected of a gentleman.’ He rose to his feet and paced around the room. ‘You do wish to fit in here? You want to be accepted in society?’

Lascelles remained sprawled on his chair, but his eyes were watchful. ‘The widow and her crippled brother are hardly prominent members of society. Why, if you came across them in town, my dearest Coz, you would not even deign to notice them, they are so far beneath your touch.’

Again, Leo reined in his temper, distracting himself by examining a model of a Chinese pagoda displayed on a side table. It was exquisite, the ivory carved in intricate detail.

‘Ming,’ Lascelles said. ‘The Prince has one very similar, I am told. Now, that is the mark of a gentleman.’

Leo crossed to the fireplace, and settled his left shoulder against the mantelshelf, folding his arms.

‘You are mistaken. The mark of a gentleman has nothing to do with money or with fine possessions. Birth is, of course, important but it is manners that mark the true gentleman. Manners and the treatment of others and, in particular, the treatment of those of lower birth. If you do not understand that, Anthony—and believe it—you will never earn your place in society.’

Even as he spoke the words, Leo questioned whether Lascelles could ever be a true gentleman. It was not something that could be learned but was, in Leo’s opinion, something intrinsic in a man’s character. Looking at his cousin, at his insolent sprawl, he doubted Lascelles possessed that trait. Rather, he was more than ever convinced there was something rotten at the man’s core...something more than just bitterness over his illegitimacy. Stanton had been right: Uncle Claude—Fourth Duke of Cheriton—had been right not to wed Lascelles’s mother, and not only because of her profession. She would have made a terrifyingly unsuitable duchess with that temperament of hers. Leo still could not help feeling some guilt, however, and it was that guilt that had prompted him to accept Lascelles’s invitation to Halsdon Manor, to find out if their relationship could somehow be redeemed.

It seemed not.

He pushed away from the mantel. ‘I am going to see how Vernon fares in his revenge on Stan.’ He paused by Lascelles’s chair, steeling himself against the urge to wipe the mocking sneer from his face. No matter his aversion to Lascelles, he was family and he was also, for now, Leo’s host. ‘Will you accompany me?’

There was a pause. ‘Not for the moment, Coz. I shall join you directly.’

As he strode in the direction of the billiard room, his muscles tight with anger, Leo knew he should leave Halsdon and go back to London before he and Lascelles came to blows. It had always been thus between the two men—that constant vying for supremacy. Leo’s hope that his cousin had changed—mellowed—had not been realised: Lascelles was merely an older, more confident version of his younger self. He still knew what he wanted and, it appeared, cared even less about the means by which he got it.