The Brooding Duke Of Danforth

At this announcement, her mother’s composure failed and her lip trembled, signalling the beginning of a response that might be far too sincere and more embarrassing than her dripping apologies.

Abby grabbed her hand and tugged sharply, pulling her away from the Countess before she could speak. She felt worse than her mother did about seeing the Duke again, but she was not about to break down in the entrance hall and display her emotions to the whole house. ‘Thank you for informing us. I will do my best to prevent any awkwardness.’

‘As will I.’ The Countess smiled. ‘As I said before, it is a very large house.’

Not large enough.

Abby had known that she would have to face the consequences of her actions eventually. But when the moment came, she’d assumed she would have had time to prepare for it. She had not expected that she would come upon him without warning and be unable to get away.

‘I will arrange the seating at the table accordingly. You need not speak, if you do not wish to. Or participate in any activities that might force proximity.’ The Countess gave an airy wave off her hand to indicate the insignificance of the problems. Then she grew serious. ‘But the other guests are likely to gossip.’

Behind her, Mama gave a small yip of distress and the Countess’s lapdog whined in response.

‘There cannot possibly be more talk than there has already been,’ Abby said, reaching into her sleeve for the spare handkerchief she kept for her mother. She turned and offered it, and accompanied it with a warning look to remind the older woman that fussing over the situation only made it worse. Then she turned back to the Countess with a smile. ‘We will be fine. And again, we thank you for your help.’

Lady Comstock nodded in return and reached for a nearby bell pull. ‘You will feel even better after a hot drink and some dry clothes. Dinner is at eight and I do not want you to miss it.’

When the maid arrived to take them to their rooms, they were led up the main stairs, past the main wing of guest rooms and down a dimly lit centre hallway with threadbare carpet and faded wallpaper. Her mother cast a longing glance over her shoulder at the newer, nicer rooms in the front of the house.

‘I am sure these are lovely, as well,’ Abby whispered, not wanting to appear ungrateful in front of the servant.

‘It does not matter,’ her mother replied with a watery sigh. ‘We will not have the opportunity to compare accommodations with the other guests. Despite what the Countess said, we shall have to take all our meals in our room.’ The maid had opened the door of the first room and Mrs Prescott hovered in the doorway, fluttering in and out like a moth trapped in a chandelier.

Abby walked in without hesitation and smiled at the maid. ‘The room is lovely. Please thank the Countess again for her generosity.’ The statement was true enough. Though it was clear that it was not in the first tier of accommodation, the linens had been recently aired and the blue silk on the walls and heavy damask curtains on the bed were free of stains or dust. She gave her mother what she hoped was a significant look. ‘And I assume you are right next door.’

The older woman disappeared after the maid only to reappear a few moments later through an adjoining door. Before she could embarrass them again with her complaints, Abby glanced into the hall to make sure the maid had gone, then shut the door.

Judging by the look her mother was giving her, she had decided against tears in favour of recrimination. ‘Have I not told you often enough that your past misbehaviour would come back to haunt us? Now, when a perfect opportunity to re-enter society has appeared, we have been relegated to the back of the house and kept far away from the rest of the guests like lepers.’

Abby sighed and closed her eyes, trying not to imagine what might be in store for them when they went downstairs again. Just the thought of seeing the Duke again made her head ache. But that was the future and could not be predicted. Here and now, she must calm her mother or she would have two scenes to deal with instead of one.

She opened her eyes again, then put on her most patient smile. ‘We have been given these rooms because the best ones have been given to people that Lady Comstock invited to her home. We would not be here at all if you had not ignored my request to return home when the weather worsened. You insisted that we must go on towards London. Now we are trapped and must make the best of it.’

‘And if you had not jilted the Duke of Danforth, we might have been invited here in the first place.’

There was some truth to that. But if she had married the Duke like everyone had wanted her to, she’d have made everyone happy but herself. After years of keeping the peace by putting her own needs behind those of the family, Abby had not been able to manage it. ‘The Countess of Comstock seems prepared to forgive me on that account. Perhaps, some day, you will as well.’ She sat down at the dressing table, removed her soggy bonnet and began pulling out pins so she might properly dry her hair. ‘For now, I mean to do as she suggested and prepare for dinner. I have no intention of hiding in my room to avoid one man.’ Even if she wanted to, now that they were in the same house, she doubted she could prolong the inevitable meeting for more than a day or two. It would be easier to get it over with quickly.

‘Have you no shame at all?’

‘I have nothing to be ashamed of. I am not the one travelling about England with a mistress always in tow.’

‘Do not be ridiculous.’ Her mother tutted. ‘You could not possibly do so because you are a young lady.’

Abby sighed again. ‘As usual, you are missing the point.’

‘I am ignoring it,’ her mother replied. ‘That is what a decent young girl would do, when given the opportunity to marry a man of such stature.’

‘Then I am sorry to be such a disappointment,’ Abby countered. ‘Despite all your efforts to the contrary, you have raised an abomination.’

It was fortunate that she had not expected a denial after that proclamation, for none came. ‘I knew there were too many books in the house. But your father insisted you be educated. And now look at you.’

Abigail smiled into the mirror. ‘Despite the rain, I do look quite well today, thank you.’

‘You know that is not what I meant.’ Now Mama was positively huffing with indignation.

‘I am what I am,’ Abby announced. Though, in her heart of hearts the fact frustrated her even more than it did her parents. Life would be so much easier if she were anyone else. ‘If I could not manage to ignore Danforth’s mistress before we were to be married, it would have been just as hard, after. I saved us all from future unhappiness.’ In truth, it had been nothing more than a brief reprieve. Despite her mother’s belief she was without shame, she had been far too embarrassed to question the Countess as to whether the Duke had come alone or brought Lady Beverly with him. Tonight, she might have to face her worst nightmare at dinner. She would have to share a table with the two people in England she had never wanted to see again. At the thought, her stomach clenched. Perhaps she could excuse herself early, for she doubted that she could eat a bite, feeling as she did.

‘I am more concerned with the past than the future. The least you could do is apologise to him for the trouble you have caused,’ her mother said with a note of pleading in her voice.

‘Since a lady has a right to change her mind, I have nothing to apologise for,’ she replied, ignoring the niggling fact that there had been many less embarrassing ways to call an end to the engagement. Instead, she had chosen to make a spectacle of him. She felt even worse knowing that she had earned any punishment society decided to inflict.

Her mother deserved some small share as well for putting her in this situation, so she added, ‘I will endeavour to avoid him so as not to make things worse. And, since you were no doubt hoping when we barged in here that we might find me a husband, I will set my cap for the first fellow I see on the ground floor. Then Danforth can keep his mistress and I can keep house somewhere else. The whole matter will be settled by morning.’

At this, her mother’s lip began to tremble, a signal that her brief show of courage was over. ‘Abigail Prescott, you will not flirt with a stranger under the nose of the man you spurned. If you humiliate me again, I do not know what I shall do.’

She would probably cry, in public or private. If Abby was the cause of those tears, she would be no better than Father was. She rose and went to her mother, taking her hands and giving them a comforting squeeze. ‘I was jesting, Mama. It was cruel and I am sorry. While we are here, I shall be on my best behaviour. Since I refused to marry one total stranger, I promise you I will not be flirting with another.’

‘He was not a stranger. He was a duke. Everyone in England knows him,’ her mother said with a wail, still mourning the loss of Danforth. ‘What more did you need to know?’

‘What else could I possibly need to know but his title?’ she said with an ironic smile that was lost on her mother.

There were myriad answers to that question. His favourite colour. Whether he preferred coffee or tea with breakfast. If he had a dog. There were a hundred things she wished to know about him that she had not learned. The most important of them was what had motivated him to offer for her in the first place.

She pushed them all to the back of her mind and tried to give her mother a sincere smile of encouragement. ‘Since he was not particularly interested in me during our engagement and has made no effort to speak with me after, I doubt he will want to acknowledge my existence, much less trail me around the house interfering in my doings. I am sure we will both feel better if I ring for a maid to get us out of our wet clothes and changed for dinner. Then we will go downstairs and meet the other guests, and I will prove to you that things will not be as terrible as you fear.’

Chapter Two

Benedict stood patiently in the finest guestroom of Comstock Manor as his valet dressed him for dinner. When he’d arrived, the Earl had told him that it was a former repose for King Henry VIII.

He had seen better.

Until recently, Comstock had been an American. It was quite possible that he knew little to nothing about the house or its previous guests and had made the story up out of whole cloth. Still, it was comfortable enough. The mattress was not a Tudor antique and he slept well on it.

‘Chin up, Your Grace.’

He obliged as Gibbs flipped the linen cravat about his neck and began the knot.

There was a single knock on the door and, as usual, it opened and closed before he could even give his permission for entrance. He watched in the mirror before him as Lenore crossed the room to sprawl among the pillows on his bed.

‘You should not be here,’ he reminded her with a sigh. ‘Especially not during the day when anyone might notice.’

In response, she laughed in the deep, throaty way that made heads turn and breeches tighten. After twenty-two years of exposure, he had developed some immunity to it. ‘Might notice? Darling, I made sure that they did. I would much rather that people think I am with you than that they realise what I really get up to on these trips. I doubt some of them could stand the shock.’

Despite himself, he laughed. The movement of his head earned an annoyed grunt from Gibbs, who tossed away the spoiled neckcloth and went to the wardrobe for a replacement.

He took advantage of the respite to turn from the mirror and address her directly. ‘You know that I would never deny sanctuary to a lady in distress, especially when she is my best and oldest friend. But some day, it might be interesting to go on a trip where I do not have to be the last bulwark between you and disgrace.’

She answered with a shrug and a smile, and, as usual, no promise to change in the slightest.

‘Do I want to know who you have been visiting when you are pretending to be with me?’

She shook her head. ‘It is better that you do not. But my liaison will pale in comparison with the scandal about to break at supper tonight.’

‘Do tell,’ he said, taking care not to move as Gibbs began the new knot.

‘The weather today is as bad as it was yesterday, which is to say, only a bit better than last night,’ she said. ‘We shall all be trapped inside until the storm breaks and that could take days.’

‘I am aware of the fact. The room has windows.’ He flicked a glance to the panes which were currently rattling in their frames under pea-sized hail.

‘But today, there have been some surprise additions to the party. A fallen tree in the road caused a carriage accident. The travellers are sheltering here until the weather turns and the vehicle can be repaired.’

He turned to glance over his shoulder, receiving a sigh of frustration from the valet, who tossed the second spoiled cloth aside and picked up another.

‘Since this is not my house, I have no say in the matter. I am told there are forty rooms. It should not matter at all if a few more people come here.’

‘The stranded guests are Mrs Prescott and her daughter.’

Now, it felt like the valet was knotting the cloth tight enough to strangle him and Benedict tugged it away, tossing it down to lie with its fellow before turning to face Lenore. ‘Which Prescott?’

‘The only one that matters,’ she replied, eyes flashing with amusement as she waited for his response.

He had no right to be annoyed. If she had not come to give him a warning, he might have ended up facing a dinner table full of people eager to dissect his reaction at the first sight of his former fiancée. And a fine show he would have given them had he come upon her unawares. Even with advance notice, his initial desire was to curse aloud, his second to run screaming into the rain and try to avoid the meeting that awaited him in the dining room.

Instead, he took a deep breath and apologised to Gibbs. Then, he held a finger in the air to warn Lenore of the need for silence. He ignored her expectant expression and stood stock-still until the valet had completed his work.

He was being foolish. He was used to scrutiny. His title was so old that he tended to be the ranking peer at most any gathering and he had come into it when he was still a boy. It was not unusual to feel all eyes in the room upon him, especially when he was travelling with Lenore.

But his friendship with her was old news. Though people tended to suspect the worst about them, they did not dare to voice their theories aloud. A meeting with Abigail Prescott was another matter entirely.

‘It has been long enough since the incident that I doubt anyone will even remember,’ he lied, as Gibbs gave his coat a final brushing.

‘Do not be naive,’ she said with a soft laugh. ‘It has been barely three months since she left you standing alone at the altar in St George’s. I was in the parlour when the other guests learned of her arrival and the room fairly hummed with the desire to gossip.’ She gave a modest bow of her head. ‘I came here so as not to inhibit them.’

He gave her a sour smile. ‘You might have remained and prevented it.’

‘Only delayed it, I am sure.’ She shrugged. ‘If I do not allow them some liberties, they will take to avoiding me so they might talk about you in peace.’

‘You are willing to sacrifice my reputation for the sake of your own popularity.’

‘As I have always done. You have been telling me since we first began going about together that you did not care what people thought of you.’ She touched a hand to her ample bosom and gave a dramatic sigh. ‘My reputation was your main concern. What would the world think of me, that I was so much in your company?’ Her hand dropped to her side and she looked at him, eyebrow raised. ‘It is a surprise to find your chivalry failing just when things are becoming interesting.’

‘I was young and foolish back then,’ he replied. ‘Not that I regret it, of course,’ he added, for in truth he did not.

‘But you did not think through the repercussions,’ she added. ‘Nor did you imagine that you would be trapped at a house party with me and your betrothed.’

‘My former betrothed,’ he said firmly. Then he attempted a joke to change the subject. ‘And I chose to keep company with you because I assumed that, eventually, you would see the error of your ways and accept my proposal.’

‘Silly boy.’ She smiled fondly. ‘My opinion has not changed in all the years we have been together. We did not suit then. We do not suit now.’

‘Not as you did with your first husband,’ he agreed.

‘I did not suit him, either.’ She laughed.

‘But I could not imagine a better union than one between two friends,’ Benedict insisted.

‘You could not?’ She arched her eyebrow again. ‘Having tried it, I can assure you, there is more to marriage than that. You need a woman who will give you a son.’

He frowned. ‘I thought I had found one.’ He could still remember his first glimpse of Abigail Prescott’s flashing dark eyes and serene smile. One meeting was all that had been necessary to decide him. In less than a week, they had been engaged. ‘It was all arranged.’

‘And then she jilted you.’ Lenore did not exactly chortle, but there was a distinct lack of sympathy in her tone.

‘I gave her no reason.’ He was still not sure what had changed her mind.

‘Now that she is here, you must ask her.’

He frowned, wishing she would drop a subject that was embarrassing enough without additional commentary.

‘You have made no effort to speak to her, thus far,’ she reminded him. ‘It is time you did.’

‘Since we are not married, you have no power to nag me into doing things I do not wish to.’ Not even when she was right. His childish infatuation for Abigail Prescott had been accompanied by equally childish anger at her rejection. Perhaps she was in love with another. Perhaps the responsibilities involved in elevation to Duchess were too daunting.

Or perhaps she simply did not like him.

But she could have been polite enough to inform him of the fact in person or in writing before the actual ceremony. He had thought it wonderfully brazen when she’d threated her own father with a public scene. But it had been another thing entirely when she had pulled the same trick on him without the courtesy of a warning. If she did not want to marry him, then he had no intention of chasing after her to beg for a reason. If the girl was a harpy in the making, then their failed wedding had been not so much an embarrassment as a reprieve. If she could treat him thus before the wedding, then their marriage would not have been the peaceful union he sought. It would be misery from start to finish.

As the days turned into months, he had decided the less he thought about her, the happier he was likely to be. Now she had appeared out of nowhere to destroy what small amount of peace he had managed to regain. But that did not mean he would give her the satisfaction of seeing him hurt. Having witnessed the results of unfettered emotion in his family, he would not give her the satisfaction of seeing him lose control.

He stared into the mirror, pretending to admire the beautifully tied cravat to show how little this supposed crisis mattered to him. Then he turned to Lenore. ‘If she wished to ruin her reputation by crying off, it was not my business to ask why. Nor do I mean to offer her any more than I already have. If a dukedom is not enough to get her to the altar, I cannot imagine what she expects.’

‘It could have been nothing more than fear on her part,’ Lenore said in a gentle voice. ‘You can be quite intimidating when you set your mind to it.’

He laughed. ‘Do you think I bullied her into marrying me? She is lucky that I took her on at all. With a philandering drunk for a father and a social-climbing cit for a mother, her family pedigree was not likely to gain her an offer as good as mine.’

‘It did not seem to bother you at the time,’ Lenore replied. After a lifetime’s acquaintance, she could look through him like an empty glass.

‘And it does not bother me now,’ he insisted. His last comment had sounded like the petulant outburst of a man who cared far too much. ‘If you wish to know the truth of her motives, you will have to ask her yourself. When I see the girl, I mean to treat her in a civil manner to prove there are no hard feelings on my part. But I am not going to beg for an answer, nor will I be goaded into a public confrontation for the amusement of the crowd.’

Her lips formed an ‘O’ of astonishment and she looked ready to question him further. He had few secrets from Lenore, but friendship did not entitle her to pick through the remnants of his heart like a rag bin. ‘Gibbs, please see Lady Beverly out. If she spends another minute meddling in affairs which do not concern her, she will not have time to dress for dinner.’

His valet went to the door, opened and stood respectfully to the side and gave Lenore the patient look that servants used when forced to obey commands that were not likely to go well.

Lenore looked between master and servant, then laughed. ‘Putting me out?’ She rose from the bed as gracefully as she had taken to it. ‘You have never done that before.’ Then she swept past him and through the door, turning to leave a parting shot. ‘This will be an interesting—’

At Benedict’s signal, the door closed before she could complete the sentence.

Chapter Three

It did not take long for the Comstock servants to prove that there had been no insult intended in the rooms they had been allotted. Before Abby and her mother had finished speaking, a string of footman appeared, carrying their luggage from the carriage, and Lady Comstock’s own maid was hurrying between their two rooms, drawing baths and pulling dinner gowns from their trunks.

* * *

An hour later, with her hair dried, curled and decorated with emerald pins to match her green silk gown, Abby felt more than a match for anything or anyone that might await her on the ground floor. But upon arriving there, it took only a moment to realise that things were not as bad as Mother had expected—they were far worse.

Their appearance in the door of the sitting room brought the action within to a sudden halt. It was as if she was staring at an oil painting of the ton at leisure and not an actual party. All chatter stopped. Glasses paused halfway to lips and, though play had stopped, hands around the card table rose slightly to disguise the curious expressions of the players that held them.

Beside her, she could feel her mother begin to falter. She sympathised, for she could feel her own heart racing wildly and her blood pumping ice through her veins. Before either of them could make things worse by showing their fear, Abby pushed from behind, forcing her mother forward. Once they’d passed the threshold, the Countess bore down on them with the singlemindedness of a dreadnought. ‘Mrs Prescott, Miss Prescott, please, come join us.’ She kissed their cheeks as if they were old friends and not complete strangers, then forced her way between them, linking arms and towing them into the midst of the gathering. ‘Even if it comes from misfortune, I welcome your company. You are not yet acquainted with my husband. We must remedy that immediately. And if there are people in our little group you do not know, point them out and I will be happy to make introductions. I am sure all are as happy to see you as we are.’ Then she swept the room with a steely glare that was in opposition to her honeyed tone, as if daring anyone to go counter to the wishes of the hostess.

With a rustle of satin and a few nervously cleared throats, the other guests offered forced smiles of welcome, turning away as soon as they could find an excuse to return to what they had been doing before the Prescotts arrived.

Before they had a chance to be bothered by it, the Countess had them across the room and standing in front of the Earl of Comstock, who complained about the miserable English weather and assured them that everything would be done to make up for the discomfort it had caused. Though he’d held his title for over a year, his temperament and accent were still somewhat colonial. But at least there was no trace of the reserve Abby sometimes felt when people were confronted with her mother’s unguarded emotions and unpolished manners. It did not seem to bother him in the least that she had not been born to associate with someone of his rank.