Page 3 of Courting the Duke (Reimagined Regency #2)
Christian Russell, Duke of Hoxton, stood next to the pianoforte later that night in the music room while Lady Roxanne played the instrument with technical precision.
Although skillfully executed, the composition felt flat to his ears.
He tried to shake off the odd notion that she performed without passion and wasn’t truly enjoying herself.
Throughout the evening, Hoxton’s gaze kept returning to the slight figure of Miss Serena Deburgiak.
The moment he noticed her sitting in the back row, adorned in an ivory dress with a gold overlay, his heart raced, and a spontaneous smile touched his lips.
He’d been mesmerized by her singing and her entertaining performance with Rapscallion.
If only her charge could match her wit, then he might be excited about making a match with her.
He experienced a touch of guilt in his unkind opinion of Lady Roxanne.
At ten and eight, she was barely out of the schoolroom, which explained her naivety.
Lady Roxanne’s slender, delicate fingers flew across the ivory keys, her golden curls bouncing at the movement.
Without a doubt, his Aunt Imogene and all those gathered in the long, rectangular room with the domed ceiling assumed he would ask for Lady Roxanne’s hand since his grandmother was her godmother.
As the daughter of a viscount, she was a suitable match to become the future duchess.
At his grandmother’s insistence, he hosted the house party so that he and Lady Roxanne could become better acquainted.
Grandmother begged off at the last minute for undisclosed reasons that he suspected had to do with her ongoing bouts of gout.
The injury he’d sustained to his ankle during Waterloo pulled, sending a sharp pain up his shin as he dutifully turned the sheet music.
The room’s occupants appeared engrossed in the performance, all eyes on them.
Commanding a troop of soldiers on the battlefield under enemy fire was easier than navigating the intricacies of polite society.
Imogene had done her best to wrangle him into Lady Roxanne’s company since the beginning of the house party, hence his presence at the pianoforte for the musicale.
The music’s tempo increased, Lady Roxanne’s slender fingers moving with more speed. She had led a sheltered life, and her shyness reflected her youth. Perhaps when she became more comfortable with him, her true personality would shine through.
His own youth had been full of excitement at the prospect of defending his country until he actually entered his first battle. There was nothing glamorous about soldiering.
His gaze moved to Miss Deburgiak once more.
The countess, Lady Roxanne’s mother, had developed a headache and begged off the night’s festivities, leaving Miss Deburgiak to wrangle her charge.
Her eyes were closed, and a dreamy smile curled her lips.
From this distance, he couldn’t see the freckles sprayed across the bridge of her nose or the vertical scar on her top lip that caused her smile to be crooked, which lent her a mischievous air.
She must have been born with a cleft, but whoever had been her surgeon had been skilled with needle and thread.
All in all, her face had character, and her voice only added to her appeal.
Lady Roxanne finished the song with a flourish, the last note a tad off-key. She winced and wrinkled her nose before snapping her head up to look at him. “Oh dear,” she murmured, her voice barely discernible over the polite applause.
“That was lovely, Lady Roxanne.” Imogene stood and gave him a pointed look before she turned to the crowd. “I think it is time for us all to adjourn for dinner.”
Hoxton held out his hand to assist Lady Roxanne from the bench seat.
The white gown settled around her legs, the cut of the bodice enhancing her trim figure and flattering her fair skin.
Manners dictated that he escort her into dinner, which he was certain was what his aunt had planned all along. “You are a talented musician.”
The majority of the guests had moved from the music room to the large dining room, and he guided her to the back of the line waiting to exit.
“The last key was off and, well, I am sorry I did that.” She fell into step with him.
“I am sure no one noticed.” Something about her manners made him very uncomfortable, and he couldn’t pinpoint why.
Perhaps it was the pressure from both their families to make a match.
People of their station often married for alliances, and while he expected to follow the same path, a tiny part of him balked at marrying a stranger.
“Mama will,” she said in a quiet voice full of distress. “She says a lady never wrinkles her nose because it will give her wrinkles.”
Hoxton stared at her for a long moment, temporarily confused by the change in conversation. He had assumed she was referring to playing the last note off-key. “Since your mother isn’t here, you needn’t worry. Nor should you worry because I have heard that that could very well give you wrinkles.”
Lady Roxanne stared up at him, her hand fluttering to her chest. Horrified eyes met his. “Is that true?”
“I have no idea. I was merely teasing you.” Hoxton felt the need to reassure her. In some ways, she behaved like a child, and he couldn’t help but wonder if she was simpleminded. “Are you offended?”
The frown returned before she seemed to catch herself. “Should I be offended?”
“I think that is up to you to decide.” Her vulnerability melted his heart.
Hoxton was ten years her senior and had seen the same look in a young recruit’s eyes.
He’d left his military life behind and expected his life to become easier.
However, the pressure to find a duchess had steadily increased.
In some ways, it was an even greater battle.
He knew he needed to marry for the sake of the title.
Except he wanted more than what was expected of him.
“I will defer to you.” She nodded in agreement with her own statement. “If you say I shouldn’t be offended, I won’t be.”
“That isn’t up to me, but to you.” He kept his tone light and tried to hide his frustration. Women of their station were taught to defer to men and not speak their minds. Call him unfashionable, but he’d rather have a genuine conversation than focus on mere pleasantries.
They entered the dining room where the lively sound of voices mingled with the savory smell of food. While on the battlefield, he had faced near starvation with his men. Now, as a duke, he had food in abundance, but the old food uncertainties still haunted him.
The long table had been set for thirty guests, with his own seat located at the head of the table.
Lady Roxanne would be seated on his left next to Imogene, and the rest of the seating assignments would default by rank.
His cousin Daisy sat next to Lord Edward, Baron Blackstone, a man her stepmother had been trying to encourage her to engage with.
At seventeen, she was in her debut season.
Of course, the degenerate was more focused on Lady Roxanne than his cousin.
As her guardian, Hoxton didn’t think Blackstone was the right fit for Daisy, and if the time came to voice his opinion on the man to her, he would.
Miss Deburgiak sat at the end of the table beside Squire Stiller, both glancing up as they passed.
Many ladies, like Miss Deburgiak, with illustrious pedigrees, found positions with wealthier and more prestigious families, such as the viscount’s.
It was considered an honor to serve under someone with his auspicious title.
Stiller stared at Lady Roxanne with longing, as did most gentlemen when they laid eyes on her beauty.
Lady Roxanne halted to address her companion, who presented her profile to Hoxton. “Since Mama isn’t coming down, you can sit next to me.”
A rush of gratefulness hit him at the suggestion before he tamped it down.
She was Lady Roxanne’s companion and a woman he’d had a brief conversation with.
Yet, he sensed his dinner conversation with her would make the unbearable social event seem less boorish.
Or perhaps he remembered more of their encounter than warranted.
“That is not a good idea. The head of the table is meant for more illustrious guests than myself.” Miss Deburgiak kept her gaze locked on Lady Roxanne’s as she said the words in a calm and informative manner. “I will wait until the dinner is through and catch up with you.”
Lady Roxanne stiffened, her lower lip trembling.
What he had suspected was simplemindedness clarified in his mind.
For all her beauty, she was bashful, at least around him, which was understandable given the pressure they were both under.
To ease her nerves, he spoke. “I think you should join us, Miss Deburgiak. It is more than obvious that it means a lot to Lady Roxanne that you do so. Unless you’d rather not. ”
“Please,” Lady Roxanne said.
A flash of fear stiffened Miss Deburgiak’s features, but she nodded, nonetheless.
He waited until she stood before he moved to the head of the table with Lady Roxanne.
The room’s inhabitants watched them with keen interest, especially Baron Blackstone.
Hoxton waited for the footmen to pull out their chairs, and the ladies were seated on either side of him before he sat.
Blackstone flanked his cousin Daisy on the left and Roxanne to his right. Daisy had informed him that she hadn’t found a single man worthy of her attention all season. Her pronouncement waylaid any fears Hoxton had of her falling for Blackstone’s flattery.
If Imogene was insulted by Miss Deburgiak joining them, her smile of greeting didn’t reflect any ill will. She beamed at him, the light of a born matchmaker in her brown gaze. “Isn’t Lady Roxanne the most talented musician you have heard?”
“Hardly the most talented.” Lady Roxanne blushed, the color enhancing her beauty. With soft golden curls that framed her face, she was a vision of innocence. “I daresay there are others better than myself. My cousin, Serena for one.”
“You are simply being modest.” Aunt Imogene lifted her wineglass and took a sip while looking at the baron. “Blackstone, what did you think of the performance?”
“I thought it well above average.” Blackstone’s bored, affected amusement got on Hoxton’s last nerve. “Lady Roxanne does have a talented hand. What is your favorite piece to play?”
The two fell into conversation. Miss Deburgiak stared hard at the man, her dislike obvious.
Hoxton couldn’t blame her. As if sensing his stare, she looked over at him once more.
Amber eyes, the color of a petite owl’s glowed in the candlelight.
It was on the tip of his tongue to relay the resemblance to her, but he sensed the bird comparison might not please her.
His fondness for birds led him to mean it as a compliment, not an offense.
“I hope you are not offended by my insistence on you joining Lady Roxanne at the head of the table. I overstepped my bounds in the library. I do not wish to do so again.”
“I was surprised, but not offended.” She lowered her lashes, a flush warming her cheeks. “Although I daresay others might question the choice. But then again, you are a duke and this is your house, thus I don’t think they dare say a word.”
“You are indeed correct on that score, although at times I forget.” The hint of awareness in that simple gesture sparked an answering response inside his chest. “My reasons are my own.”
“Except your reasons are on behalf of my cousin, and that makes them acceptable in my opinion.” The flush deepened, enhancing her comeliness.
“She is a very agreeable lady.” As are you.
Hoxton shifted in his seat and tried to bend his mind in a different direction.
Yes, Miss Deburgiak had made an impression on him after such a short time, but he had promised his grandmother that he’d court Lady Roxanne.
Until now, no other woman had held his interest and he’d been indifferent to the process of courting.
When his grandmother suggested Lady Roxanne, he hadn’t hesitated to agree.
She had the right background and was pleasant in both appearance and manners.
The match from a practical perspective made sense.
“I am glad we are in agreement.” She continued to stare ahead, nodding at her own statement. The curls around her face shined burnished gold in the candlelight.
He tore his gaze from her profile. Regardless of his growing interest in her, he had made a promise and he was a man of his word, no matter how painful it might be to keep it.