The Duke and the Vicomtesse: (Clean & Wholesome Regency Romance Book) Read online

  “Ahem.”

  She swiveled around, still lost in her thoughts. Marlborough stood there, looking at her.

  “Your Grace.” She said, automatically curtseying. She thought fast as she lowered her face. Why had he approached her? He had made it known he wanted nothing more to do with her. It didn’t make sense.

  Why, oh why, did I agree to come to this ball? She chastised herself anew.

  “I didn’t know you were in the district,” he continued, looking at her. He wasn’t smiling.

  “Well, it appears I am,” she answered. He continued to stare.

  “It is a fine evening, is it not?” He turned and gestured toward the vast gardens and the navy-blue sky, dotted with stars. A full moon hung low, almost touching the earth.

  “Indeed,” she replied. “A magical evening.” What did he want? She didn’t understand.

  “Have you grown weary of London society?” he continued. “I thought you craved exciting company.” He lowered his voice as he spoke, staring at her intensely.

  Marie-Therese was puzzled. What on earth could he mean? She, who suffered through company as if it were the plague!

  “I think you do me a disservice, Your Grace,” she replied stiffly. “I attend the social engagements of the season as is my duty as the companion of Miss Bloom. But I rarely enjoy such activities. I find myself always longing for solitude. It is a peculiar characteristic, I do admit.”

  “You like the country?” He stepped closer to her. “You enjoy solitude?”

  “Oh, yes.” She felt his closeness. “I would be happiest in a country home, I am sure. Surrounded by books and wilderness. It would be the natural habitat for a creature such as I.”

  “I, too, dislike social engagements.” He spoke in a low voice. “I went years without attending any, and now, after such a long time in seclusion, I barely know how to proceed…” He frowned, shaking his head.

  He stepped back from her as if suddenly conscious of how close he had come.

  “You suffered a great loss, I have been told,” Marie-Therese said.

  He looked at her, a little sadly. “A great loss. But my son is my consolation and joy.”

  She curtseyed, acknowledging his statement.

  He stared at her as if struggling to formulate his next sentence.

  A tinny voice cut through the air. “Marlborough!”

  He jumped.

  Miss Kitty Rivenhall was standing there, looking from him to Marie-Therese. She didn’t look pleased. “Marlborough, Phoebe is looking for you. She is ready to make the announcement,” she said. She stared hard at Marie-Therese.

  “Of course.” Marlborough bowed to Marie-Therese stiffly, then left the balcony with his sister.

  How very vexing! Marie-Therese leaned against the balcony rail, quite put out.

  She simply didn’t understand the man. One minute he looked on her coldly as if she were something he must scrape off the sole of his shoe. The next he was seeking her company, eyes aglow and peering searchingly into hers. It didn’t make any sense at all.

  And why was fate so determined to throw them together? She had left London with the sole purpose of avoiding him. She had thought that by the time she returned, he would have gone back to his country palace. Surrounded himself with his sycophants, people like Lady Hawksbridge, who barely had a brain or an authentic opinion to share between the lot of them, she thought bitterly.

  She left the balcony, just in time to see the assembly quietened and the Duke making an announcement. Lady Hawksbridge was by his side, smiling widely.

  “It is my pleasure to announce my engagement to this lovely lady,” he said, raising a glass to her. The crowd gasped. People rushed to them, offering congratulations. The Duke received them silently, but Lady Hawksbridge was crowing with pleasure.

  Marie-Therese fanned herself vigorously, a sudden heat rising through her body. She should have known. People like the Duke always preferred women like Lady Hawksbridge. She tried to quash the disappointment that reared in her heart.

  Chapter 9

  A Walk in

  the Country

  T he country air was replenishing her spirits.

  The ball had ended the same way balls always do: with happy guests trailing off to discuss the latest piece of fascinating gossip. Tonight, everyone was abuzz with talk of the Duke’s engagement. Marie-Therese carefully avoided the Duke and his new fiancée and exited the ballroom as soon as she could persuade Emily and Minnie to let her leave. She knew she had no right to feel disappointed, but it hurt. Why, she simply did not know.

  The walk back to the Shaw’s was long, but pleasant. Along the way, she stopped to pick some wildflowers, breathing in their wild scent. Just that morning she had been reading Lord Byron’s “And Thou Art Dead, As Young And Fair,” relishing the beauty of the lines. Breathing the wildflowers’ fragrance, she recalled a line from it: the flower in ripen’d bloom unmatch’d/ Must fall the earliest prey. Beauty cut down in its prime, withering on the bud. She caused the death of these lovely flowers, simply by picking them. Trying to capture and imprison their beauty, for her own selfish purposes.

  She walked further, dwelling deeply on the lines and their meaning and fingering the petals between her fingers, not aware of where she was going. Suddenly, she lost her footing and fell heavily into a ditch, putting out her hands to break her fall.

  She sat up, rubbing her ankle. She had twisted it. She attempted to stand, letting out a cry at the pain. She managed to climb out, sitting beside the road. Her ankle was so sore—how on earth was she going to make it back to Eden Hall? She had lost track of time, as always, and probably was at least two miles from either the ballroom or the Shaw residence. Well, she had no choice. She would sit awhile, hopefully soothing her sore ankle enough to be able to walk, then she would have to attempt the journey back.

  She had sat for a half hour when she saw a horse and rider approaching. She breathed deeply in relief, managing to stand and wave to alert him of her presence.

  The horse approached her, slowing down.

  The Duke of Marlborough stared at her as shocked as if a woodland fairy had suddenly appeared before him.

  “Miss Deauchamps?” He dismounted, approaching her.

  Marie-Therese smiled weakly. “Your Grace.” She managed a lopsided curtsey.

  “Are you hurt?” He was frowning.

  “I fear I have twisted my ankle,” she replied. “My own fault, I must admit. I was daydreaming and not aware of where I was walking.” She laughed.

  “Are you able to walk?” He came to her, holding an arm out to assist her. She took it gratefully. He led her ten paces, observing her hobble.

  “We must get you back to where you are staying,” he said. “You need to rest that ankle and have a doctor examine you. Where are you in residence?”

  “I am staying with the Shaw’s. Eden Hall,” she answered.

  He contemplated for a moment, then nodded sharply. “Very well. I will take you there myself. Here, hold my arm, put your good foot in the stirrup.”

  She did as he asked, and then he lifted her onto the front of the horse. When he was sure she was settled, he mounted himself, hoisting up to sit behind her in the saddle.

  And then they were away, riding back down the country lane. She felt the wind in her hair, whipping it back into his face. She was conscious of him behind her, his strong legs keeping her in place on the horse. If she turned slightly, she could see his face: the brown eyes, the well-chiseled countenance. He was so close, she could feel his breath on her neck.

  She tried to think of lines of poetry to recite in her head to distract herself, but it wasn’t working. All she could think of was his closeness to her, and how it made her feel. A flush had sprung up and spread over her features. The throb of her ankle receded into nothing.

  At last, they arrived. He alighted, gently helping her to descend as well. She tried not to shake as he put her gently onto the ground.

  “Thank you,” s
he whispered.

  He looked down at her. “My pleasure, Miss Deauchamps,” he said.

  “Marie-Therese! What has happened?” Minnie said, appearing at the doorway of the manor, flanked by Emily.

  As they realized who the gentleman on the horse was, Minnie and Emily rushed toward them. The spell broke; Marlborough stepped away, releasing her. She felt the absence of his touch keenly.

  “Please, do not fuss,” she answered the ladies. “I twisted my ankle, that is all. His Grace happened to be riding past and, seeing me in my plight, unable to finish the walk home, assisted me home.”

  The two women looked at the Duke in amazement.

  “Ladies,” he said. “I am afraid I must depart. I am expected this very moment at Mitford Manor.”

  “Congratulations on your engagement, Your Grace,” Marie-Therese said. “I did not get a chance to wish you and your new fiancée well.”

  The Duke looked at her sadly for a moment, then bowed.

  The next minute he was galloping away.

  The three ladies stared after him. They couldn’t have looked more shocked than if he had been one of the four riders of the Apocalypse riding away.

  Chapter 10

  The Ladies’

  Visit

  M arie-Therese leaned against the back of the carriage, feeling every jolt and shudder sharply.

  Not much longer, now. They should be approaching the outskirts of London very soon. She simply could not wait. It had been a most unexpected series of events at Eden Hall. Running into the Duke again when she had taken such pains to avoid him. Hearing of his engagement to Lady Hawksbridge. Injuring herself on her walk, and then the Duke’s sudden appearance, his rescuing her. Riding with him back to Eden Hall, so close to him…

  She frowned. What was she to make of it? Had she developed feelings for him? She simply did not know. It was all so confusing. But he was now an engaged man, so even if she did feel something, she must put such thoughts behind her.

  She thought, also, of the strange and inexplicable visit Miss Kitty Rivenhall and Lady Hawksbridge had paid to Eden Hall, the day after her fall.

  Nobody had been expecting them. Minnie and Emily were lolling on the sofas, needlework abandoned. Mr Shaw was out hunting as usual. And Marie-Therese had been sitting in a chair, deeply involved in Walter Scott’s The Black Dwarf. No one had heard the carriage pull up, and so they were all astounded when the names of the ladies were announced.

  Minnie and Emily had bolted from their sofas as if scolded, quickly hiding their embroidery and straightening their dresses. Marie-Therese had risen to receive them, too, but she made no attempt to tidy herself. She simply stood impassively, wondering why on earth two such haughty ladies had condescended to visit.

  They swept in, assessing the drawing room and the occupants swiftly. Emily had bolted toward them, curtseying deeply. Her eyes were bulging out of her face.

  “My ladies.” Emily could barely catch her breath in her excitement. “We are so honored! Would you like tea?”

  They nodded, sweeping grandly to the sofas. Marie-Therese watched them gingerly lowering themselves, perching on the edge of the furniture as if it might be contaminated.

  Tea was served, and small talk made. At least, Emily and Minnie attempted to engage the ladies. It was hardly a conversation. Kitty and Phoebe answered in monosyllables as if the effort of talking was quite beyond them.

  Marie-Therese was mystified as to why they had called, at all. It seemed like they would rather be anywhere but in that drawing room.

  “Are you feeling quite recovered, Miss Deauchamps?” Kitty asked, turning to Marie-Therese. “We heard you had a nasty fall yesterday. Quite felled, we heard.” They tittered.

  “Yes, thank you,” Marie-Therese answered. “My ankle was very sore yesterday, but I can stand on it today. A minor sprain, I think.”

  “Quite,” said Phoebe, putting her tea cup onto the table so suddenly the tea service rattled.

  “It was very lucky for you that the Duke happened to be passing,” Kitty continued. “You were quite the damsel in distress! I have always found it a low performance when a lady uses her fair sex to impress herself upon a gentleman.”

  Minnie and Emily gasped. Phoebe merely stared ahead, smiling absently.

  “I beg your pardon?” Marie-Therese turned to Kitty. “I must have misunderstood you. It was fortuitous, yes, that your brother the Duke came upon me in my misfortune. I am very grateful to him. But I did not exaggerate my injuries to seek the Duke’s good favor.”

  Kitty and Phoebe exchanged a glance, then turned to Marie-Therese.

  “How very comforting to hear, Miss Deauchamps,” continued Kitty. “For you must understand, I am sure, that His Grace as a newly engaged man cannot be seen favoring any young lady. I am sure it was a mere accident as you say.”

  “We are thinking of a spring wedding,” Phoebe said, yawning. “The Duke, I must confess, says he cannot wait! He is so violently in love with me, he says the vision of him putting his ring on my finger is the only thing that he sees when he closes his eyes at night.” She picked up her cup and sipped, glancing sideways at Marie-Therese.

  “Indeed,” said Marie-Therese. “If a man is so violently in love, he cannot be apart from his beloved, at all! You are continuing on with His Grace to Bleinheim Palace after quitting Derbyshire, then? I seem to recall him saying he could not wait to get back there and see his son.”

  Phoebe colored. “Not right away. He has business he must attend. I am to return to London until he has the palace ready to receive me.”

  “Of course,” said Marie-Therese serenely. “A man so violently in love must prepare his palace!”

  Kitty looked at her, sourly. She stood up, Phoebe taking her cue and standing.

  “We are so pleased you are much recovered,” she stated. “One must be so careful on these country walks. You never know what you may encounter!” They laughed. “Good day.”

  Emily and Minnie had risen in confusion, following the ladies as they exited the house.

  Marie-Therese sat back down. It was simply astonishing, why two such high-born ladies had condescended to visit, unannounced. And so vexing. The sole purpose of their visit had seemed to be to warn her away from the Duke, yet why should they care in the slightest? Lady Hawksbridge was engaged to him, now. And she had barely spoken to either one prior to the visit.

  Following the encounter, Emily had been enthralled that the ladies had visited her humble home, raving to Minnie about how elegant and sophisticated they were for the rest of the afternoon. Marie-Therese had excused herself, saying she had a headache, and left them to it.

  She could see the houses of London, now. She was impatient to get home.

  She had told Emily and Minnie the night of the visit, at dinner that she desired to return to London. She missed her aunt Celine and worried about her. Marie-Therese had insisted that Minnie stay at Eden Hall for the remainder of the visit as planned, and eventually they had conceded.

  And so here she was. She hadn’t told them the real reasons, of course—that the thought of running into the Duke again made her heart flutter and strange sensations course through her. She simply had escaped him. He was an engaged man after all. And she didn’t want to see Kitty and Phoebe again if she could help it, either.

  Almost there. Two more streets. She was surprised at how much she had missed London, and poor Aunt Celine. She always felt guilty if she was away from her too long.

  The horses pulled up outside the townhouse, and the groomsman was just getting down to help her from the carriage when the front door burst open. It was Mrs. Bloom.

  “Oh, Marie-Therese!” she cried, running toward her. “You have come, just in the nick of time! How did the rider get to Eden Hall so quickly?”

  Marie-Therese looked at her in confusion. “Mrs. Bloom, pray, of what do you speak?”

  Mrs. Bloom looked at her in astonishment. “You mean you do not know? But then why are you here?”


  “What is wrong?” Marie-Therese demanded.

  The woman’s eyes glistened with tears. “It is your aunt, child. She took a bad turn yesterday. It is feared she will not recover.”

  Chapter 11

  The Note

  M arie-Therese flew into her aunt’s bedroom.

  There she was, a crumpled heap on the bed.

  How could this have happened? She had been used to her aunt’s illnesses; Celine had been ailing for as long as Marie-Therese could remember. From when she was a little girl, Marie-Therese had heard that she must be patient and gentle with her aunt. She suffered so many maladies over the years, always of a vague nature. But it was like the boy who cried wolf—Marie-Therese had gotten so used to it, she failed to take much concern with her aunt’s illnesses anymore.

  But it was very real, now.

  “Dear Aunt.” Marie-Therese was at Celine’s side, bending down and taking the frail woman’s hand. “I am here. It is Marie-Therese.”

  “Marie-Therese?” Her aunt turned over, slowly, to look at her. “Is it really you? They told me you were far away and mightn’t be able to get here…in time.”

  Marie-Therese kissed her aunt’s hand. “Hush, dearest. I am here. There is no need to be distressed.”

  Her aunt was silent for a moment. Marie-Therese could hear her faint shallow breaths, and could see her eyelids fluttering. How and when had Celine gotten so old? She hadn’t noticed. She had thought her eternal, that she would be here forever, complaining of her sore stomach and panicked nerves.

  She should never have left her. She had been selfish, thinking only of herself. Preoccupied with a certain Duke and not giving her aunt a thought. Marie-Therese chastised herself soundly.

  “Ma chérie?”

  Marie-Therese could barely hear the faint call. She bent down to her aunt’s face. Yes, she was still conscious, but barely.

  “What is it, dear Aunt?”

  “There is something I must tell you,” Celine whispered. “I never wanted to, not after…” she paused, and memory seemed to glaze her eyes. She flinched, but forced herself to continue.