Page 2 of The Duke’s Reluctant Muse (The Untamed Nobles #3)

“You look a little better, brother.”

Elizabeth smiled and patted her brother’s hand, seeing the pallor of his cheeks but also the brightness in his eyes. He was tired, indeed, but the pains were not as strong and he was able to eat a little.

“Another day or so and I shall be entirely recovered,” he told her, his voice a little wane but a determination in his words that Elizabeth could not help but admire. “You have done very well in my absence, I am sure. You must be tired.”

A small shrug lifted her shoulders as she cast that compliment away. “I only want you to recover,” she answered, softly. “This time, the pains have lingered, have they not?”

Lord Dennington nodded. “They have,” he replied, closing his eyes. “Some time ago, the physician suggested that a change in my circumstances might alleviate the frequency of them and, given the severity of this most recent one, I confess that I am now considering it.”

“In what way would it make a difference?”

Her brother closed his eyes again. “The physician recognises that I spent most of my time at my desk, looking through papers, responding to letters and to matters of business and that I barely have any time to do anything other than that. These last eighteen months have brought me a good deal of anxiety in some ways as I seek to understand all the business affairs that our father was involved in – and decide whether it is right or not to linger in them! The physician thinks that if I were to take a short holiday as a respite from my present situation then it might lessen the dreadful headaches I have been having.” His shoulders lifted. “I thought about the Season.”

Elizabeth blinked in surprise but remained silent. She had no certainty that such a thing would be of any good and certainly, her brother had never mentioned the Season before now but if it was what his physician had suggested, then she would do all she could to assist.

“London,” her brother continued, his eyes still closed and his voice losing its energy. “There will be enough entertainment there to accommodate us both. The lack of responsibility, the stepping away from all matters of business... well, it might bring me some relief.”

“Then it would be worth considering,” Elizabeth replied quietly, although her heart quailed at the thought of leaving, given that she knew nothing of London.

A small smile pulled at her brother’s lips and his eyes flickered open, looking at her through tired eyes. “I had already begun to make some tentative plans, although I was not entirely sure as to whether or not I would pursue them,” surprising her all the more. “It seems now that those plans are to become certain. Closing his eyes, his smile lingered. “You must make certain to reply to Lord Harlington, however.”

“Lord Harlington?” Elizabeth queried, uncertain as to what her brother meant. “Is he an acquaintance?”

“He had offered to help me with the requirements as regards staffing the London townhouse,” came the quiet reply, his weariness becoming more evident with every moment. “He too is to be in London, he said, and knowing how busy I am with matters here at the estate, offered to be of aid out of his good nature.” Glancing at Elizabeth, he waved one hand. “You have my permission to pen a reply to him, Elizabeth. It is imperative that you do so, in fact. We will have to make our way to London just as soon as possible, if we are to be there in time for the beginning of the Season. The truth is, Elizabeth, if it is to help me and you, then it would be best that we think of making our way to London just as soon as is suitable.”

Help me? Elizabeth swallowed hard but resisted the urge to ask any more questions, seeing how weary her brother was beginning to feel. With a nod, she got up from her chair and reached across to squeeze his arm gently. “I shall do so immediately,” she promised, having left her brother’s personal correspondence alone thus far. “I will have to open a good many of your letters, however, if I am to find the one from Lord Harlington.”

“You have my permission,” her brother murmured, clearly drifting towards slumber as his heavy eyes closed. “I trust you implicitly.”

His confidence in her was touching and Elizabeth smiled gently, releasing her brother’s arm. “Thank you, Dennington,” she murmured softly. “Sleep now.” There was no answer and Elizabeth left the room as quietly as she could, hoping that, very soon, her brother would return to her once more.

***

There was a certain disinclination that came strongly into Elizabeth’s mind as she began to open her brother’s letters. She felt as though she ought not to be doing such a thing, even though he had told her that she had his express permission. To read one’s own letters was one thing, but to open and read letters that were neither addressed to nor for her was quite another. Had her brother had the strength to remain awake and inform her of Lord Harlington’s seal, then she might find herself much less anxious over the matter, but as it stood, she was strongly averse to doing so.

Sighing, Elizabeth picked up the first letter and, turning it over, looked down hopelessly at the seal. She had no knowledge as to whose seal it was and, thus, had no other choice but to break it open and begin to read.

“‘My dear lord, it gives me great pleasure to attach, with this letter, an invitation to…’,” she read, before shaking her head, folding up the letter and returning it to the desk. Picking up the second, she did the same again before turning to the third, then the fourth, and then the fifth.

“‘It has been some time since I have been in your company and I find that I am, to my great embarrassment, writing in the hope that you will be in London this winter,’” Elizabeth read aloud, her eyes drifting down to the signature at the bottom of the letter – but it was in such an ornate handwriting that she could not quite make it out. Sighing inwardly, she let her eyes rest on the top of the letter again, wondering if this might be the beginnings of Lord Harlington’s letter to her brother.

‘ As you know, I have often found myself almost silent before the young ladies of the ton ,’ the letter continued, making Elizabeth frown. ‘ From our days at Eton, I recall that you were very often disinclined towards laughter, as the others were, but were willing to aid me in any way you could. I wonder now if I might beg for that aid once more. ’

“I should not be reading this.” Elizabeth spoke aloud, lifting her head and squeezing her eyes closed, telling herself that it was wrong for her to be reading her brother’s correspondence in such a way. After all, she was only meant to be looking for Lord Harlington’s letter and this clearly was not from him. But there was something about the desperation in the gentleman’s letter that had her sympathy growing steadily, to the point that she could not help but let her eyes drop to the letter again.

‘I was in London last Season after some years of absence and failed to secure the courtship of not only one but three ladies. They all rejected my courtship outright even though they did not have another gentleman pursuing them. It seems that my dark and despondent reputation has spread all through society, so that no gentleman in all of London wishes to engage his daughter to me! I am again to return to London for the Season but alas, I fear that I shall, yet again, fail entirely. In truth, I have no confidence in myself. I have returned to London to whispers spoken of me every time I so much as set foot in a ballroom or the like! I have even heard that there is a wager in Whites about how many ladies will reject me this Season also! You know the reason for my demeanour and my regrets but I do not think that society will be at all willing to listen. Might I then seek some advice from you? We were close friends in Eton and I appreciated your thoughts then. Might I hope that, even now, you might offer me a word of guidance? I can only pray that you will not find my letter foolish nor refuse to respond due to the ridiculousness of it.’

There came, thereafter, the usual compliments and the signature of one Duke of Nottingham. Elizabeth sighed and set the letter down, telling herself that she ought to simply seal it up and, thereafter, allow her brother to answer it – but the line at the end of the letter would not leave her mind. Her brother would not be ready to even read the letter for a good few days and, thereafter, would not make the response a priority, given all that he had to do. Furthermore, they were leaving the estate to make their way to London! Even if her brother recovered before they left the estate, Elizabeth did not think that even reading a letter such as this would be his main concern.

Which meant that she had a choice to make.

Pressing her lips together, Elizabeth considered what she was to do. The letter seemed to burn hot in her hand, the questions and the beseeching contained within winding its way from her mind to her heart and refusing to allow her any peace. With a great and heavy sigh, she unfolded it again and, after another moment, sat down at the desk.

This ought not to be your priority either! Your brother has given you a task to do and this is not it!

The quiet words of her conscience set her cheeks ablaze but Elizabeth’s gentle heart could not turn away from such a letter. The gentleman was clearly eager for any sort of advice that her brother might offer him and there was courage even in daring to write such a letter in the first place!

“But what knowledge have I of such things?” she wondered aloud, her own face flushing as she realized just how little she knew when it came to matters of attraction, of affection and of courtship. Quite why the Duke of Nottingham had failed in his attempts to court three separate young ladies, she did not know and, mayhap, that ought to be her first question to the gentleman. Nor did she understand anything about the darkness of his demeanor, though it appeared her brother had knowledge of it. She could not ask him about that, though she did silently wonder about it. Biting her lip, she hesitated before reaching for the quill, ready now to write him a response.

“‘Your Grace’” she said aloud, speaking out the words she wrote. “‘I am soon to be in London, although I am a little unwell at present and may not have fully recovered by the time I return to town. I often struggle with head pains and whilst my physician hopes that town will aid their demise, I am not certain they will do as is hoped! However, I still have an eagerness to be of assistance to you and I must offer my commiseration over your lack of success thus far.’”

Setting down the quill, Elizabeth read and reread these first few lines, making sure she was not only quite satisfied with what she had written but also that it was in the very same manner as her brother might write. The latter was not of particular importance since the Duke of Nottingham had clearly not been in company with her brother for some time, but still, Elizabeth wanted to do all she could to make certain that she sounded as much like her brother as possible. When her brother was well again, she would tell him of this, of course, and he would, she hoped, then be willing to continue with such a correspondence so that the Duke of Nottingham would gain both encouragement and support in his endeavors.

“‘Might I ask,’” she continued, still speaking aloud as her quill scratched across the paper. “‘Might I ask what it is you have tried thus far in your attempts to court such young ladies? Or, if I might be so bold, to ask you to explain why you believe they might have rejected you so quickly?’” She winced as she wrote this, feeling a slight sense of embarrassment as well as sympathy for the Duke of Nottingham but knowing that, at the same time, she could not be of assistance to him if he did not respond honestly. “‘It must be very difficult indeed to have had such rejection but I am certain that, with a little guidance, you shall be able to secure yourself a bride very soon.’” She pressed her lips together, hesitating as she lifted her quill to the inkwell. She did not want to speak out of turn but there was a curiosity in her heart that could not be contained; she had to know the reasons these ladies had rejected him. Part of her wondered if he had a clumsy manner, or if he had stood thrice on their foot when dancing – and thus, Elizabeth lifted her quill to the paper and continued to write.

‘ I must finish by stating that I will still be resting and recovering in London and therefore, would be grateful to receive your letter but not, at the present moment, any visits,’ she finished, knowing that her brother would not be ready for any friends or acquaintances to call during his first few weeks in London. ‘But be assured that I shall return whatever letter or note you wish to send just as soon as I am able. Indeed, correspondence might be to your benefit for then letters themselves can be considered at length before a response is given. You have my promise of utter discretion, of course.’

It was done. There came upon Elizabeth such a feeling of anxiety that it took her some moments to decide to fold up the letter, rather than pick it up and throw it into the fire so that it might burn up entirely! She was doing something she had never done before in pretending that she was her brother, and by writing to a gentleman that she was not acquainted with by any means! It had been some time, evidently, since the Duke of Nottingham had been in company with her brother and, most likely, he would not find anything questionable in what she had written and, therefore, would assume that it was, in fact, Lord Dennington who had written it.

“I shall tell my brother all and hope that he will continue to assist the Duke of Nottingham,” she said aloud, folding up the letter and then preparing the wax to seal it. Her words comforted her heart, reminding her that she was doing this in order to help the gentleman and that, surely, could not be a wrong motivation. Pressing her brother’s seal into the wax, Elizabeth rose and rang the bell, ready to have the letter sent away just as soon as she could, so that she did not lose her nerve and decide not to send it after all. With a deep breath, she settled her shoulders and tried to smile as the footman came into the room.

“Send this at once,” she said, finding it a little difficult to release the letter as the footman came to take it from her. “And I shall require a tea tray, if I am to continue on with Lord Dennington’s affairs!”

The footman nodded and stepped from the room, taking the letter with him. Elizabeth swallowed hard, then turned and gave herself a slight, brisk shake. It was done and she need not think more about it.

All she now required was a response.

***

“Brother?”

Elizabeth looked carefully at her brother as he sat opposite her, all too aware that whilst his eyes had been closed for the last ten minutes, he did not appear to be sleeping.

“Yes, Elizabeth?”

“I am sorry to interrupt your rest, but there is something I must ask you.”

The matter of the letter had been playing on her mind ever since she had sent it, ever since the footman had taken it from her and quit the room. Over and over, she wondered if she had done the right thing, becoming frustrated with herself as her mind continually returned to it. She had settled her thoughts somewhat by stating that she would tell her brother of the letter just as soon as she was able and that, in doing so, she would find her conscience settled.

“Go on.” Her brother’s eyes remained closed but he gestured to her idly. “What is it?”

Elizabeth drew in a deep breath. “When you were ill, I did, as you know, take over some of your correspondence. In doing so, I came across a letter from one Duke of Nottingham.”

One of her brother’s eyes cracked open. “Nottingham?” he repeated, as Elizabeth nodded. “I have not heard from him in some time! We were very good friends at Eton and in the years thereafter but since –” He stopped short, shaking his head and looking away. “It does not matter but he has been absent from society for a time.”

“He did say that,” Elizabeth replied, “but he stated that, when you were in Eton, you were of assistance to him and, therefore, he has sought you ought again in order to give him some advice.”

Her brother’s eyes opened a little more and he pushed himself up slightly, showing more interest than Elizabeth had expected. “Oh?”

Briefly, she told him what the letter had said and, aware that her cheeks were becoming hotter by the minute, quickly told him what she had written in return.

“I do not know if I did the right thing in responding but my conscience would permit no other course of action,” she finished, as her brother’s lips lifted in a small smile. “I wanted very much to help him and, given that he sounded so desperately forlorn, I could not leave it another moment.”

Her brother said nothing for a few minutes, regarding her carefully although his smile still remained. Elizabeth dropped her head, not quite able to look him in the eye even though she was quite relieved that she had told him everything that had been troubling her.

“I think you have been very kind, Elizabeth.”

The breath of relief that poured from her lips made her brother chuckle.

“Come now, you did not think I would chide you, surely?”

“I was not certain,” Elizabeth replied, honestly. “It was not a business matter and I had, therefore, no right to read any such thing.”

Her brother leaned forward and placed his hand over hers, his eyes smiling. “You have a great sweetness of character, Elizabeth as well as a tender heart. I would not have expected anything less from you, my dear sister. And,” he continued, sitting back in his chair and grinning at her, “when the letter from the Duke of Nottingham comes, I shall make certain that you are given it, so that you might respond to him again.”

Elizabeth’s eyes widened. “You mean to say that you wish me to continue writing to the Duke?” she asked, as her brother nodded, his eyes sliding closed again. “I have no knowledge of what to say, or what to do!”

“I am certain that you shall have excellent advice,” came the reply, “and it will do the Duke of Nottingham no harm either in thinking that it is I who is responding to him. Perhaps, my dear sister, you will help him achieve what he longs for.” His smile shifted to one side, his hands clasped in his lap as he slumped a little in his seat. “You may help him find a wife!”