Page 2 of Only a Fortnight with the Duke
CHAPTER 2
T he first real ball of the season was in full swing from the moment the Clark’s arrived there, right in the center of a queue of carriages clamoring to get in the doors. There was heavy anticipation from the ton for this season’s matches—not in recent history had there been quite so many dashing young men and women vying for good matches. The mamas were engaged in deep discussion about their children’s prospects while those very children found merriment in food, drink, and dance alike.
Lady Clark stood just on the outskirts of the dance floor, a drink in her hand, with her two closest friends beside her. They indulgently observed the couples who’d made haste to take the first few dances together and kept watchful eyes on the manor’s entrance.
“How is it that we have been here just less than an hour and our dear Lady Emmeline has not yet filled her dance card?” Lydia teased, amber eyes trained on her friend. “Has your reign as the prettiest young woman in all of England finally ended? Perhaps I’ve a chance.” There was not a drop of envy to Lydia’s playful words. Her long, dark hair was pulled up high into a knot to display her proud cheekbones and striking features. She was every bit as pretty and as popular as Emmeline, though it would not have mattered.
Between those three girls, there had never been any hint of rivalry.
“You speak too freely,” said the red-haired girl that stood with them. Her voice was softer, calmer than Lydia’s. “While your present party are aware of what you mean, think what would happen if a potential suitor overheard you speaking in such a manner. You could?—”
“Please! We would hardly make the scandal sheets,” Lydia cut in. Emmeline smiled at the pair of them and raised her hand to Lady Margaret’s cheek, patting it gently as if to calm her nerves.
“Our dearest Lady Lydia is merely excited by the splendor of the ball. It is true—my dance card remains empty. But that is more likely because the three of us stand together. What man in his right mind could approach a trio like ours with any confidence?”
This made Margaret smile, and once again, all was well. “Then shall we part ways so we might go and find suitors to attends us for the night?”
“Certainly not!” Lydia cried with a smile, hooking her arms through Lydia and Emmeline’s elbows as if to lock them in place. “Let only the bravest of men win our hearts. They shall be forced to—Oh, my!”
Margaret and Emmeline’s heads swiveled in the direction of their friend’s gaze. They watched, together, as a pair of young men entered the dance hall. It was apparent that they were not the only ones looking, either, as the entire ballroom seemed almost to suck in a collective breath of awe. To what effect, she could not be sure.
The first was handsome in a soft manner, with pale skin and pretty light brown curls. His friend was a few inches taller than him, quite a bit broader in his shoulders, and had the most beautiful face that Emmeline thought she had ever looked upon. His hair was as black as night, sleek and straight, cut short and combed fashionably. The set of his jaw and the proud angle of his nose were like something out of a famous painting. Even his clothes were fine, a rich and deep navy blue with gold trim.
“Is he…?” Margaret was the first to speak, though she, too, could not tear her eyes away from the sight.
“Yes,” Lydia breathed. “He is.”
“Who?” Emmeline demanded, turning to look at her friends. “I have never seen him before. Have you made his acquaintance?” Lydia’s eyes followed the pair of men as they walked for a moment, then her attention snapped to her blonde friend, a wicked grin spreading across her pretty face.
“There are two men there, my sweetest Emmeline. Which of them has peaked your curiosity?”
Emmeline smiled, the blush that ran across her cheeks real and comfortable despite her friend’s jokes. She glanced again at the two men, observing them for a moment together. The taller man with the black hair seemed to regard the party with an air of disdain. He looked down at the people who approached them while his friend smiled and spoke pleasantly.
“Who are they ?” she corrected herself.
“They are the Dukes of Blackwood and Newbridge.”
“The Duke of Blackwood is here?” Margaret’s eyes widened as she and Lydia exchanged a look between themselves. “And you’ve made his acquaintance?”
“Yes. The Walford family has done business with mine for some time, now, so my father’s office was one of his first stops when he arrived. We were not formally introduced, and I never thought that I would see him here at a ball, so it did not occur to me to mention.”
Emmeline narrowed her eyes at the other two women. “Just what is so special about the Duke of Blackwood?” She could feel her cheeks growing warm again, though not from embarrassment this time. How was it that two men of the exact same station could carry themselves so differently? What was it that made him believe he was so much better than everyone else?
Lydia lowered her voice and Margaret and Emmeline instinctively crowded around her to hear better. “His Grace has a certain reputation.”
“Yes,” Margaret answered, almost too eagerly. “My brothers spent time with him a bit after they left university. He has a particular reputation.”
“He is a rake,” Emmeline filled in.
“It seems to matter very little,” Lydia continued. “My papa said that His Grace is looking for a duchess. He did not say so himself, but Papa heard it from Mama. Apparently, every family here is vying for his attention toward their eligible daughters. Now that he has shown his face…”
“It is hardly natural to appear in society for the express purpose of finding a wife, but he seems the perfect candidate,” Margaret muttered. “He will likely find himself a most eager bride very quickly. Then, we will be rid of him, surely.”
Emmeline heaved a great sigh and pulled a bit away from her friends, pressing her glass to her lips to take a long drink. Idly, she searched the room for her friend, Lord Bancroft, thinking that he might know a bit more about the mysterious stranger who’d caught the ton’s attention. When she caught herself in this train of thought, it ignited the anger that had been building since she first looked upon him. She crossed her arms over her chest.
“I loathe the look of him.”
“Emmeline?” Margaret and Lydia looked upon their friend as if she had gone mad.
“I mean it!” she continued. “Have you seen the way he’s been walking around this room? The Duke of Blackwood—what’s a title to a man’s character? He has no regard for anyone he speaks to, and I can see that observing him for a minute, no more. To think that he has come here to find a wife as if she were some sort of possession. He might be the most eligible young man in town according to some, but I would not marry a man such as he if it were my only option. What self-respecting woman could stand beside such a creature? He is so clearly concerned with mere power and wealth as if nothing else in the world could possibly matter. Lonely spinsterhood sounds to me like a much softer, warmer fate than if I?—”
Emmeline lost her steam when she finally took notice of the pale, hardened looks on her friend’s faces. The air in the room seemed suddenly thin as realization dawned on her. Slowly, Lady Clark turned. She was not surprised to find that both Dukes stood behind her. The Duke of Newbridge regarded her with a bit of a smile, casting his eyes at the ground when she looked up as if stifling his laughter.
But the man in question had a steady, apathetic gaze. He had heard her, surely, but he gave no indication that he cared at all. Slowly, he smiled at her.
“It would appear that you were so concerned with me and my alleged wrongdoings that you forgot yourself. Do not worry yourself—I am not nearly the horrendous man you have made me out to be in your mind. As such, I have a friendly word of advice for you.” The Duke’s bright green eyes travelled slowly over Emmeline’s form. “Were I you, I would not waste my breath rejecting men who have not yet made me an offer. I think it far better to be mistaken for a greedy rake than for a desperate, marriage-obsessed young lady. There is a great deal of pleasure in life when learns to put oneself first. It will come with no small measure of jealousy, but you ought to try it and see.”
He nodded his head to Lady Lydia and Lady Margaret, addressed them both formally, and took his leave with his friend close behind him. Lady Emmeline watched him go with bated breath and the heat of anger rising rapidly within her. The three girls stood together in shocked silence for a short while before Lady Clark found her words once more.
“Such insolence!” she muttered; her voice uncharacteristically low in volume. Lydia and Margaret exchanged a look, though Emmeline hardly noticed. It was well known to the two of them that their friend was much sharper of tongue than she appeared at first glance. Her temper could be explosive, but if they gave her the space to let her feelings out, it need not be destructive. “To think that there is a man in this world who has the nerve to say such a thing.”
“Should we go outside for some fresh air?” Margaret asked tentatively.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Emmeline snapped. Immediately, she realized her error and softened her face, reaching out to gently grasp Margaret’s hand in hers. “My apologies. I don’t mean to be harsh with you. You have done nothing wrong.”
“I do not blame you for being cross, Lady Emmeline,” Margaret began in a soft, gentle tone. “I would feel the same had I just been insulted in such a manner. Perhaps we ought to try and enjoy the ball, anyway. The dance floor is large enough to steer clear of him.”
Emmeline considered Margaret’s proposal for a moment, but a glance at the Duke, who was now across the way with his friends, still regarding everyone with haughty judgment, sent her upset over the edge.
“I will not,” Emmeline insisted. “Why should I? Because I am a lady and he a man? Is his behavior excusable because he was born with a title, land, and money whereas I must marry if I want those things? How could someone be so arrogant? To suggest that putting oneself above all others is an acceptable way of life is a testament only to the easy, sheltered life he has lived.”
“What of the easy, sheltered life you have lived?” Lydia goaded, her smile mischievous even as Margaret jabbed her playfully in the ribs with an elbow.
“You raise a perfectly valid point, Lady Lydia,” Emmeline continued without missing a beat. “Indeed, I was awarded quiet luxury and enjoyed the benefits of my dear Papa’s employment and esteem. Yet, somehow , I also managed to learn that there are other people in the world who deserve respect and gentle regard. That man is a?—”