Page 19 of The Duke Steals a Bride (Stolen by the Duke #5)

Chapter Nineteen

“T hank you for coming with us to the garden party, Papa,” said Isabella, in a bright voice, as the family walked into the grounds of Fairley Park, the home of the Viscount of Fairley. “I think it is going to be perfectly splendid!”

The duke rolled his eyes. Christine stifled a smile. He hadn’t been impressed when the twins had burst into his study this morning, begging him to accompany them and Christine to the afternoon party.

However, he had eventually acquiesced, and now here he was walking alongside them toward the white marquee on the lawn, where the ton mingled, sipping tea and champagne. Even if he had the look and manner of a disgruntled bear with a thorn pressed firmly into its side.

I do not know why he is so irritated. It should be me with the thorn in my side. I am the one the ton scrutinizes every time.

Christine’s smile tightened. It seemed that despite the duke’s strong words at that dinner party, and even standing up for herself to that dreadful dowager, the ton hadn’t listened. She could feel their eyes upon her as they walked to the marquee. Some of them were even whispering behind their hands and their fans as they watched them.

Why are they still gossiping about me? They cannot still believe that I stole the duke from my sister, or that I arranged her abduction!

But it appeared that even if the ton didn’t really believe those rumors, they were still more than willing to ostracize her. Christine felt impotent anger sweeping through her. How much longer were they going to do this to her?

“Why is everyone looking at us, Papa?” asked Beatrice, in a tense, fearful voice. “I do not like it!”

“Because they are leeches, feeding off people’s misery,” he responded, in an acidic voice. “Take no notice of them, Beatrice. They will shift their attention elsewhere with time. It is the nature of them.”

Suddenly, a brown-haired girl in a dark rose-colored silk dress, ran up to them, almost bowling over Isabella, who looked astounded, but pleased.

“Who are you?” Isabella demanded, staring at the pretty girl.

“My name is Georgina,” the girl declared, tossing back her brown curls, in an imperious way. Her doe-like brown eyes sparkled. “Do you both want to come and play? There is a family of swans on the river!”

“Please, Papa?” Isabella turned to her father, with pleading eyes. “We will not be long. I promise.”

The duke nodded his assent, and the next minute, the three girls were running away together toward the river, their hair flying in the wind.

Christine watched them go with a smile, until she was distracted by the two ladies who approached them.

One was older, middle-aged, and dressed in the stuffy, regal style of a dowager, and appeared flustered. The other lady was much younger and beautiful, with golden hair and dark brown eyes. Christine guessed she was a fresh debutante. In contrast to the older lady, this lady seemed uncertain, even shy. They both curtseyed.

“Oh, I do apologize for the forwardness of my youngest daughter, Your Graces,” the older lady cried, fanning herself wildly. “Georgina is far too bold for my liking! I am always scolding her for approaching people without my permission…”

“That is quite all right, Lady Ridgewell,” said the duke, with a small smile, inclining his head. “My own daughters are rather bold, as well. They make a good trio.” He paused, turning to Christine. “May I introduce the Dowager Countess of Ridgewell, and her daughter, Lady Ava. This is my wife, the Duchess of Ironstone.”

The ladies curtseyed again. When they rose, Lady Ava gazed at Christine, smiling in a friendly, if uncertain, way.

“Ironstone. I thought it was you,” a smooth male voice came from behind.

They all turned at the male voice. A handsome couple was approaching them. The gentleman was tall, with a muscular build, black hair and bright blue eyes. The lady on his arm was beautiful—she looked similar to Lady Ava, but her coloring was different, for she had warm brown hair and green eyes.

“Blackmoor,” the duke said, “it has been an age. How have you been?”

“We are very well indeed,” the dark-haired gentleman said, turning to the lady on his arm, and looking at her in such a warm, intense way, that Christine blushed slightly. “My wife and I welcomed our firstborn child three months ago. A son—and the heir to the Blackmoor duchy.”

“Congratulations,” the duke said, his dark eyes flickering. He turned to the lady. “To both of you.”

“Thank you,” said the lady, with a tinkling laugh, glancing at her husband, with a look of adoration. “Our Richard is a very boisterous baby. He is going to keep us on our toes.”

“Ah, children certainly do that,” said the duke, his smile widening. “May I introduce my new wife, Lady Christine? This is the Duke and Duchess of Blackmoor.”

Christine smiled at the new arrivals, hanging back a little, as the two gentlemen talked.

After a while, the Duchess of Blackmoor wandered away with the older Lady Ridgewell toward the marquee.

Christine watched Lady Ava hanging back, as well, looking uncertain. She took a deep breath, approaching the young lady.

“Would you like to take a stroll along the river, Lady Ava?” she asked. “We could keep an eye on your younger sister and my stepchildren.”

“That would be lovely, Your Grace,” stammered the lady, with a shy smile. “I must admit, I find social events tricky. I never know quite what to say or do.”

“Then we are a perfect pair,” said Christine, with a friendly smile, taking the lady’s arm. “I feel exactly the same way.”

They started walking toward the river in silence. When they reached the edge of it, where the three girls were playing, they stopped, gazing at a family of swans in the distance. Christine turned to the lady.

“Is the Duchess of Blackmoor your sister?” she asked. “I saw a family resemblance between you.”

The lady nodded. “Yes, Your Grace. I have three sisters—Juliana, who is now the Duchess of Blackmoor, is the oldest.” She smiled slightly. “I have two younger sisters, as well. You have met the baby of our family, Georgina. My other sister, Emily, is currently at finishing school in the north.”

“Are you close with your sisters?” asked Christine, in a wistful voice.

“I love them all dearly,” said Lady Ava, with a small smile. “We sometimes do not see eye to eye, but I would not change a thing.”

“It is like that with sisters,” said Christine, her heart flipping. “Even when you do not get along, there is an unshakeable bond, that can never be broken.” She hesitated. “I miss my own sister very much. It is the first time we have ever been apart from each other. And I worry about her, you see…”

“I heard that your sister is missing, Your Grace,” said Lady Ava, with a look of sympathy on her face. She squeezed Christine’s arm. “I will pray that she will return safely to the bosom of her family.”

“Thank you,” said Christine, blinking back tears. “You are very kind, my lady.”

“Please, call me Ava,” said the lady, with a shy smile. She hesitated. “I hope we can be friends. I feel an affinity with you.”

“As do I with you,” said Christine, realizing it was true. There was just something about this beautiful, shy young lady that warmed her heart. “I would very much like to be friends, as well.”

A young gentleman strolled up to them, his smile polite but eager. “Lady Ava, would you do me the honor of taking a turn around the gardens? I have already alerted your mother, and she’s coming this way to chaperone us, as is proper, of course.”

Ava hesitated, her eyes flicking to Christine. “Oh… I’m not sure. Christine, do you mind?”

Christine smiled warmly. “Of course not. Go on—I’ll be perfectly fine.”

“Are you certain?” Ava asked softly, still lingering.

Christine gave a reassuring nod. “I insist. I am well enough here. I will keep an eye on the girls. Enjoy the stroll.”

Ava turned back to the gentleman, her expression brightening. “Then yes, I’d be delighted.”

Ava smiled, ducking her head, taking the young man’s arm, and they wandered away.

Christine watched them for a moment, until a shrill feminine voice startled her.

“Your Grace.”

She spun around. A group of ladies were standing there, watching her in a haughty way, with opened parasols above their heads.

Christine stared at them. There was a full moment where they gazed back, in an insolent way, before curtseying. Her heart sank as she recognized the two ladies from the dinner party who had been loudly repeating rumors about Violet and her.

The ladies rose. There was an awkward silence.

“Have you heard any word from your sister, Your Grace?” one of the ladies from the dinner party asked, a faint smile playing at her lips. “It’s curious, isn’t it? How one might find it difficult to endure the sudden shift in fate—especially when the man she once expected to marry has found himself in entirely different hands.”

Christine gasped. “How could you insinuate?—”

“It must be quite the adjustment for you,” the other lady added in a syrupy tone. “Lady Violet always did outshine everyone—so graceful, so admired. I imagine it must feel… gratifying to finally be the one in the spotlight, even if the path there was rather unconventional. One might almost think the duke’s hand was guided more by circumstance than choice.”

“It must be exhausting to keep such close track of another woman’s accomplishments. Tell me—when do you find time for your own, ladies?”

They all turned.

Another woman was standing there, staring at them. Christine jumped, recognizing her from the dinner party, as well. It was the duke’s sister-in-law—Lady Canterfield. The sister of his late wife, who he didn’t seem to like very much.

To her surprise, the lady took her arm firmly, steering her away from the group.

“Take no notice of them, Your Grace,” Lady Canterfield whispered. “They are like vicious hens who simply must peck at something .” She paused. “I do not believe a word of what they say. I do not believe you stole the duke from beneath your sister’s nose, nor that you had a hand in her supposed abduction. It is preposterous!”

“Thank you, my lady,” Christine said, in a cautious voice.

The lady sighed dramatically. “It is true that your sister was the more outgoing and brighter light in your family, but then again, that is always the way of it, is it not?” She gave a tinkling laugh. “It does not mean that you are inferior, just because you are not as accomplished as Lady Violet. Do not think it for a moment!”

“I do not think that way,” Christine said, flushing deeply, even though the lady’s words had hit a wound, deep inside. “At least, I try not to believe that…”

“Of course not,” Lady Canterfield said, patting her arm, in an almost condescending way. “We must all do our best. And we cannot all be raving beauties with splendid accomplishments. I am certain that you have charms in your own sweet way.”

Christine didn’t reply. It was odd—even though this lady had seemingly rescued her from the vicious attack of the other ladies, and was offering words of supposed comfort, Lady Canterfield was making her feel worse, not better, about herself.

Perhaps she is right. Everyone believes it, after all. I am simply inferior to Violet—and nothing can ever change that.

Suddenly, she felt completely overwhelmed, almost exhausted. She had just arrived at this garden party and already she wanted to leave. The glow from the pleasant encounter with Lady Ava—it had been pleasant, hadn’t it?—started to fade. How much more of this social ostracism could she endure?

“Thank you for your kind words,” Christine said, taking a deep breath. “And thank you for intervening on my behalf.” She paused. “I believe I will take a solitary walk before I rejoin the party.”

The lady curtseyed, smiling brightly. “Of course. Take as much time as you need to compose yourself, Your Grace.”

Christine smiled stiffly, walking quickly away, feeling as disjointed as a wooden marionette. Tears blurred her vision.

Suddenly, she saw a path into woodlands beyond the river. She veered onto it, almost running now, desperate to get as far away as possible. Her heart was filled with pain.

She wasn’t good enough. She would never be good enough.

Not for the ton. And not for the duke.

Not now… and not ever.