Page 10 of A Tale of Two Dukes

Viola’s difficulties were not over, even if seeing His Lordship briefly yesterday could be said to have resolved anything.

By now, half the world would be talking about her and Mr Brummell, and the other half about Ventris and Lady Caroline.

She must exercise a little caution, then, in what she did next.

The Duchess might not care much for her own reputation, but she had her younger unmarried sisters to think of.

Men, of course, could go where they liked and when they liked.

The world was not equal in this respect, as in so many others.

She could not doubt that Ventris often entertained female company at his rooms – it would be the height of folly to imagine him lonely – but ladies of quality would not go there, unless they came disguised.

And Viola would not stoop to such a pantomime, though Lady Caroline’s reputation – to pick a random example – suggested that she for one easily might.

It was obvious that the decisive interview with her suitor, if that was what he was, could not be carried out in a public place where they might be overheard and watched.

Last night had made that sufficiently clear.

That being so, she had no alternative but to ask him to call on her at Armstrong House as he had implied that she should, and hope that if anyone heard of it or saw him entering, they would not think it too odd.

If she really did marry him soon, as she’d realised last night, it wouldn’t matter in the least. Their relationship would be public knowledge and public property. It wasn’t a pleasant thought.

Frowning, she sat down at her desk and dashed off a quick note, telling him that she would be free later that afternoon if he cared to call.

She sent one of the footmen off with it, simultaneously hoping and fearing that he would be at home to receive it.

Making him – and herself – wait until the next day because it seemed somehow more proper not to show unseemly haste felt like cowardice.

It wasn’t that she was eager to see him again, she told herself, but she knew she wouldn’t sleep tonight or do anything but pace the room all day today if she’d arranged to see him tomorrow.

She wore a high-necked, amber-coloured day-gown, not one of her new ones, but she disdained to change for him.

He’d seen her looking well last night, in velvet and jewels, but now he must accustom himself to her in her everyday dress – as indeed he’d have to if they married.

There should be no pretence between them.

He didn’t want her for her fashion sense or any beauty she might possess, whatever he might say to her to charm her, but for her fertility alone. He’d said so plainly enough.

She’d surprised herself, showing a burst of anger over that when she’d been talking to Sabrina.

If it had ever occurred to her to resent the reason she’d been chosen by Edward as his bride, she’d long since buried those feelings, and all but forgotten she’d ever harboured them.

There had been a dark time in her life after she’d married that she chose not to dwell on if she could help it.

Perhaps she’d been simmering with resentment all along, all these years, and never allowed herself to realise it till now.

Perhaps her initial reaction had been right, and Ventris’s offer was a grave insult – another one – as well as being a lifeline.

It was ridiculous that she couldn’t tell for certain what to think, but kept changing her mind.

Marry him, don’t marry him, and round and round.

She told herself that it was only natural to be nervous; this was a life-changing decision she was contemplating.

Her private sitting room was comfortable, full of books, furniture and pictures that she had chosen for herself with great pleasure a couple of years after her marriage – the first time she’d ever had that luxury after her crowded, shabby-genteel childhood, and then Winterflood, which as a nervous young bride, she’d been unable to change in any respect.

It looked out over the park, and was a tranquil space, decorated in harmonious shades of green, gold and plum but with no regard to whatever might be the latest mode in furnishings.

She paced it now, its peacefulness having vanished along with her own.

He was punctual to the minute. The footman announced him – she had given instructions that he should be admitted without delay – and closed the door behind him.

It was suddenly shocking to see him here in the flesh, alone, in her sanctuary.

They stood looking at each other in silence, and the moment stretched, neither of them seeming inclined to break it.

Once words were spoken, they could not be recalled.

Last night had been the merest skirmish, and in front of others, where they could not speak their minds; now they would come to it properly.

He kissed her hand again; at home, she wore no gloves, of course, and the brief contact burned all the more on her bare skin. But she would not let desire prompt her into hasty speech that she might regret later. She would save her breath and make him speak first, for the sake of her own pride.

He said wryly, wasting no time at all on idle chatter, ‘I understand that I have been outflanked, Duchess, and that you have had another fine offer for your hand. A much finer one than mine, indeed. Should I congratulate you on your conquest? He is not quite the catch that he would have been a few years ago, now that one hears that his fortune is entirely frittered away and the Regent no longer stands his friend, but still – a notable feather in your cap, madam, and if you must exchange your title for a humbler sobriquet, Mrs Brummell will sound very well.’

He almost sounded as though he believed it and was sorry, or was possessed by some other strong emotion, perhaps even common jealousy, but that could surely not be the case.

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ she said shortly.

‘Mr Brummell merely decided to indulge himself in a little light flirtation, in his capricious way. He knew that I would cause a stir, since I have so rarely been seen in Town, and he thought he would add to it, for his own amusement, by creating this fantasy of a case between us. I assure you I have not the least intention of marrying him. I have not quite run mad.’

‘But he offered for you?’ He didn’t sound as if he cared that much, but if he didn’t, why had he asked?

She shrugged. ‘In jest.’

‘Whereas I was not jesting. And I am anxious to know if you have summoned me here today to accept me, all the more because I cannot expect the next man who offers for you, now you have emerged from your seclusion, to be making a joke of it as Brummell did. I cannot imagine why else you would have asked me to call on you, unless it was merely for the purpose of abusing me for my audacity in offering for you. In which case, madam, I beg you, say your piece and be done, and I shall go out into the street directly and find some flower-seller or milkmaid who has a fancy to be a baroness.’

‘There must be one or two who might. I am right in thinking, then, that no ladies of your acquaintance would jump at the chance? Lady Caroline is married, of course, sadly, and therefore out of your reach, but still it seems most odd.’

She hadn’t asked him to sit down. He had released her hand, so that she had not been obliged to pull it from his grasp, but he was still standing very close.

‘You must be perfectly aware that I have as little genuine interest in Byron’s poor discarded lover as you say you do in George Brummell.

You know that my brief flirtation with her was all for show, and for your sake, to set idle tongues wagging on the wrong topic.

But yes, it is curious, is it not, that I should be so limited in my choice of bride?

Though I know I explained the peculiar circumstances to you with great frankness when I wrote to you. ’

‘My friend who was with me when your letter arrived thinks there are only two possibilities – that you meant to insult me gravely, or that you are mad.’

‘She didn’t think it could be both? I must be losing my touch.’

She had to stop herself from smiling, and knew he was aware of it. He said in a more serious tone, ‘You must also know I didn’t mean to insult you, Viola.’

This was too much. ‘No, of course you didn’t. Perhaps I am over-sensitive. I should be accustomed by now to being regarded as some sort of prized farm animal.’ Unwelcome emotion made her voice waver, and she swung away from him, struggling to regain her composure, cursing herself inwardly.

‘I am sorry,’ he said from behind her, sounding as though he meant it, though how could she ever be sure, with this man?

‘I had reason to know that, and it was never my intention to hurt you. That would be unconscionable in the circumstances. Sometimes, my humour is too dark for civilised company. I should have realised that my bitter jest, which I admit was not in the best of taste, would strike you in that manner and no other.’

‘How else could it strike me?’ She was furious suddenly; she turned to face him once more, wanting very badly to hit him, or at least to find some crack in his infuriating composure. ‘Good God, my “notorious fecundity”? Is my life nothing but a joke to you?’

‘It’s not a joke. Far from it.’ He sighed.

‘Viola, you know my situation, and I have an inkling about yours. Unlike Brummell, I am entirely serious. I thought we might help each other – build something lasting out of the ruins of the past. Make life easier for both of us, not just me. Keep the boys safe.’

She could not afford to dwell on the rest of it, however much it stung; this was the heart of the matter, or should be. ‘Have you any reason to think that they are not?’