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

Jonathan grimaced as he sat down, having chosen a chair that was half in shadow so that he might not be too noticeable. He had no confidence when it came to being amongst society now, given that he had been rejected outright by not one but three young ladies last Season. He winced as he recalled how the third had even laughed when he had made his intentions to her known, although she had, immediately thereafter, tried to hide her mirth from him by way of covering her face with her fan and begging his pardon for coughing in such a manner.

Jonathan had not been convinced.

The last few years had been difficult, filled with a regret and a frustration which had stolen every consideration of happiness from him. It had been difficult to pull himself out from the cloud of shadows but, eventually, he had managed to do so. Having decided that the time had come for him to wed, Jonathan had made his way to London with every confidence, only to discover that such a confidence was of no benefit. In fact, he had found it to be entirely useless, for his expectation that all would go well and he would have no difficulty in securing a bride seemed to dissuade the young ladies from him all the more! Given that he held the title of Duke, Jonathan had considered that, surely, to be considered to be an excellent match for some young lady despite what they had heard about him. To his mind, it did not make sense that he was so rejected! However, after some prolonged considerations over a glass of whiskey, he had realized that the way he had hidden from society, the way he had pulled back from them all and the dark demeanor with which he promoted himself had made a distinctly poor impression – even if he had not known what to do about it.

Thus, in desperation, he had turned to one gentleman who had not only proven himself wise in his thinking in the past but who also knew precisely why Jonathan behaved as he did. Of course, his first thought had been to write to his younger sister, who had herself only been married last summer, but when he had imaged her response to his letter, he had winced and chosen to write to Lord Dennington instead. It was not that he thought his sister would find him foolish but rather that there might come, thereafter, a little jesting and a little mirth – neither of which Jonathan wanted. She had married for security rather than anything else and so she had never understood his struggles. In all of this, Jonathan had wanted nothing more than understanding and assistance and hence, the letter to Lord Dennington had been sent. What a relief it had been to receive a response and know that his friend did not think him altogether ridiculous!

“And the response was more than suitable,” he muttered to himself, still surveying the crowd from under half-lidded eyes. He had spent the afternoon in his study trying to respond to the questions therein, for they had been somewhat difficult to answer and Jonathan was still not yet satisfied with his response. It was somewhat embarrassing to be as truthful as was required, for to find the right words to express the pain he still felt and the way it affected him had been a struggle. It had reached a juncture where he had finally declared himself content with his response—though inwardly, he was not—and so, he sealed it and dispatched it without further ado before proceeding to the assembly. He had hoped that the soiree might take his mind from his letter and his current sense of failure, though he did not intend to remedy that in any way as yet. He had no thought as to how to pursue any particular young lady this evening and had no intention of even gazing over long at any of them. No, Jonathan thought only to make his way to the card table and to spend the evening indulging himself and enjoying whatever entertainment his host intended to put on.

Sighing, he shook his head to himself, a little frustrated that the card table was not yet ready when he arrived, for it seemed that Lord Chesterton wished only for his guests to mingle and converse for a short while before such things were set out for them. Such an idea was not unusual, of course, but it was not what Jonathan had been hoping for. Any delay was a frustration, given that he sought only to pander to his own desires this evening rather than actually put any effort into conversing with the other guests.

“Are you hiding?”

With a jerk of surprise, Jonathan kept his gaze straight ahead, refusing to move from his chair nor turn his head to look in the direction of the speaker.

“I am not hiding,” he stated, as the Earl of Dalton came to sit beside him, flinging himself into a chair and drawing a good deal of attention to them both. A muscle in his jaw worked as Lord Dalton grinned at him, his broad smile nothing but an irritation.

“You are hiding,” Lord Dalton retorted, chuckling. “Why else would you be hiding yourself in the shadows?”

“Might it be that I have no interest in company?” Jonathan countered, throwing a hard glance towards his friend who, instead of removing his ridiculous grin, only began to chuckle. “I am quite content alone!”

“Then I am surprised that you have come to a soiree!” Lord Dalton shot back, leaning back in his chair and lifting one eyebrow. “That is a little foolish, is it not?”

Jonathan bit back a harsh answer, closing his eyes and letting his breath hiss out between his clenched teeth. Silence answered him for some moments and it was not until he opened his eyes and looked again at his friend that he saw Lord Dalton’s smile had finally faded. Lord Dalton was an old acquaintance and one that Jonathan had let fade during his years absent from society. Lord Dalton, however, had not seemed to even think of that for when Jonathan had first stepped into London society, he had been right beside him again, seeming to delight in Jonathan’s company.

I ought not to be angry with him.

“You are unhappy.”

At Lord Dalton’s words, Jonathan swallowed back his first response. Everything in him wanted to retort that he was not unhappy, that he was quite well and there was nothing whatsoever the matter, but the truth was there, refusing to permit him to escape. Besides which, he considered, Lord Dalton was a friend and it was not as though the fellow was well known for spreading all manner of gossip and rumor. He could trust him with this.

“I suppose you are well aware that last Season, my suit has been rejected for a third time in quick succession,” he stated, trying to keep his tone measured although his words sounded a little more clipped than usual. He looked out at the room, his eyes caught on one particular young lady with her yellow gown, dark tresses and dancing brown eyes. Jonathan sighed inwardly, dragging his eyes away and refusing to allow himself to look at her any longer. It was foolish to even think of a lady given his current circumstances. “All of the ton had seen my evident interest in Lady Beatrice and, no doubt, they must all speak now of how she rejected my suit. It may have been last Season but the mind of society does not easily forget.”

Lord Dalton cleared his throat and looked away. “Indeed, that is so.”

“And,” Jonathan continued, scowling, “the ton is also aware of my previous two attempts with two other young ladies and now must think me one of the most ridiculous men in all of England! This despite the fact that I am a Duke! I have no confidence in society any longer though I am here nonetheless.”

“Well, you did pursue them all rather quickly.”

His skin prickled and Jonathan sent a glance back towards his friend, though Lord Dalton spoke gently and without derision.

“It was clear that you desired a bride, Nottingham.” Lord Dalton spoke with a familiarity that came with a long acquaintance and close friendship and Jonathan could not help but listen. “It is unfortunate that they all rejected your suit but you must see why that is. You were abrupt, sharp in your words, seemingly angry or frustrated in your demeanour with everyone at all times! It was as though you were demanding their interest, rather than merely seeking it. I do not mean to injure you in what I say but I speak what I hope is the truth.”

“I understand that.” With a heavy darkness pooling into his soul, Jonathan nodded but looked away from his friend, setting his eyes, once more, on the young lady in the yellow dress. Was it just his imagination or was there a gentle scent assailing him? Vanilla? Rose? No doubt, it came from her. A sigh pulled itself from his lips as he forced his eyes away once more, reminding himself that he was not a gentleman that any young lady would wish to form an attachment with at present.

“You are considering Miss Hamilton, I see.”

“No, I am not considering anyone,” Jonathan snapped back, raking one hand through his thick, dark hair and scowling furiously. “She is pretty, certainly, but I cannot give her more than a few moments of my attention.”

Lord Dalton shrugged. “She may well be eager for your company.”

“I hardly think so,” Jonathan spat, his anger beginning to curl up within him, sparks in his eyes and a tightness in his chest that he could not easily remove. “Three young ladies have each, separately, cast me aside and have rejected my suit outright. I return to London and within a day of my arrival, I hear whispers about me.” His scowl hardened. “I even heard there was a wager in Whites’ betting book as to how many young ladies would reject my offer of courtship.”

Lord Dalton shook his head. “That is most unfortunate and certainly not in the least bit deserved but I do not think you need to fear the ton ,” he replied, his eyes no longer dancing and no smile on his lips. “They are not inclined towards kindness, as you have discovered, but you do not need to hide from society.”

“I have no choice but to listen to them all the same,” Jonathan replied, his shoulders dropping and the tightness beginning to loosen around his chest as they began to speak in more equal terms. “They decide whether or not I am suitable for any young lady in the ton to consider, it seems. They determine whether I am to be the subject of gossip or forgiven for my demeanour. They decide if I am to have wagers placed against me or if I am to be permitted to go about my business without such a ridicule made of me. I fear now that I shall have no other choice but to wed a lady that every other has overlooked.”

A shrug lifted Lord Dalton’s shoulders. “Mayhap that would not be too terrible an outcome,” he suggested, only for Jonathan to roll his eyes. “No, you do not think so?”

Jonathan shook his head, wishing he could find a way to express his depths of his frustration at even the thought of such an arrangement. “I do not want to marry simply because I am required to,” he told his friend, deciding to speak the truth as to his reasons for such a thing. “I find the idea of being forced into matrimony to be a very disagreeable one indeed, for then one is less likely to have any feelings of interest or affection for the lady in question.”

Lord Dalton turned, tilting his head just a little, his lips pursing for a moment. “You think such a thing to be important?” he queried as Jonathan nodded, all too aware of the heat that rolled up his chest as he spoke.

“I wish to have some sort of affection or even interest in the lady I wed,” he replied, speaking quickly so that his words were expressed in as hurried a manner as he could manage so that his embarrassment would not increase. It was not like him to speak with any sort of frankness. “It is not that I require to have a great depth of emotion for her – I certainly do not ask for the notion of love - but rather that I would like to feel something !” He sighed and dropped his head, grimacing. “I did find myself rather drawn to each of the three ladies I have already approached, for whilst they were all beautiful – exquisite blossoms in a sunlit garden, I would say – there was a gentleness, a sweetness to their character that I found very pleasing." Shooting a quick glance towards Lord Dalton, Jonathan was surprised to see the scowl growing across his face. Lord Dalton shifted in his chair, a hardness in his expression that surprised Jonathan.

“I am not certain that such ‘sweetness’ and ‘gentleness’ as you have described were a true reflection of any of those young ladies,” he said, his voice dropping a little lower. “You are aware, are you not, that all the young ladies of the ton are expected to present themselves in a certain way?”

There was a hint of sarcasm now in Lord Dalton’s tone and Jonathan shifted uncomfortably, taken aback by the sudden change in his friend’s manner.

“Let us say that Lady Beatrice – the daughter of Lord Bathurst – is a young lady you find yourself interested in. She is nothing but delightful when you are in her company and you become quite besotted with her. Can you be certain that the character she presents to you, the lady that you see when you are with her, is her true nature?”

Jonathan hesitated, spreading his hands. “I should hope that there would be a good deal of truth it in, yes.”

“Then you are being foolish!” Lord Dalton exclaimed, throwing up his hands before sitting forward in his chair, pinning Jonathan with his gaze. “The lady might have a furious temper, which you have no knowledge of until you one day decide to call at an unexpected hour, only to find the entire house in uproar because Lady Beatrice had become displeased with something!”

Pressing his lips together, Jonathan chose to say nothing in response to this. Lord Dalton was now red faced, with his eyes flashing and a tightness in his jaw that spoke of an ongoing and overwhelming anger that his friend still felt deeply. Jonathan did not want to ask further questions, quite certain that Lord Dalton had not had the intention of making himself so obvious. Still, the advice he had given rang true and Jonathan could not pretend that it was irrelevant to his own situation, even if he did not really want to believe it.

“You will be cautious, I hope.”

Jonathan nodded, clearing his throat and coupling his hands together. “I appreciate your advice – and your candour,” he added, as Lord Dalton grimaced, turning his eyes away from Jonathan. “Mayhap I have been a little….hasty in my considerations.”

The sharp, guttural laugh that came from Lord Dalton caused Jonathan to flush hot, hearing the agreement in Lord Dalton’s mirth that perhaps his friend had not wanted to voice for fear of insulting Jonathan. Was that the reason – or part of the reason – he had failed to find himself a suitable wife? Because he had been much too hasty about it all?

“There is Lord Falconer.” Lord Dalton rose from his chair, the easy smile he had worn on his arrival now gone completely. “I must beg you to excuse me.” He made to leave, only to turn on his heel and come back towards Jonathan, the tightness of his frame beginning to fade as he gave him a long look.

“I – I do hope you know that I am eager to help you in any way I can,” he said, after a few moments. “I do not wish to appear as though I lack sympathy or consideration. I am filled with both, I promise you and I wish you the very best for the remaining Season. I spoke more than I ought and I hope you understand that.”

Jonathan smiled, appreciating the fact that his friend had chosen to come back to speak those words of comfort, making certain there was no awkwardness between them. “Thank you, Dalton, indeed, I understand fully. I have listened to what you have said and I promise you that I will consider your words carefully. Your honesty is valued and appreciated.”

Lord Dalton nodded, lifted his chin and turned away again, this time making his way towards Lord Falconer without delay or hesitation. Jonathan’s eyes roved around the room as he considered all that his friend had told him. Lord Dalton’s experience with Lady Beatrice was certainly something he ought to consider. After a few moments, he dropped his head and ran one hand over his forehead, his fingers pressing lightly on either side of the bridge of his nose. Even the way Lord Dalton had recognized the haste with which he had pursued a connection gave him a good deal to consider. Was this one of the reasons why he had failed to capture the attentions of any one of the three ladies he had been pursuing? Had they all thought him much too hasty, much too foolish in his expressions of interest? It had, Jonathan conceded, been a short while between the first and the second young lady he had pursued, and an ever shorter time between the second and the third, but he had found himself so eager in his desire to wed that he had not stopped to think about such a thing as that.

Lord Dalton was right: he had not known any of these young ladies particularly well. He had taken what he had seen and thought that to be the full expression of their character, without ever considering that there was only a little of their true selves being presented. Lifting his head, Jonathan let out a heavy sigh and then rose from his chair.

He had no interest in lingering here any longer. What Lord Dalton had said consumed his thoughts and, as such, Jonathan found his mind heavy. He wanted to go somewhere quiet, somewhere where he might sit and think and allow himself to look over his past behavior with new considerations and he certainly could not do so here. Rising – and praying that Lord Chesterton would not notice his quick departure and think ill of him – Jonathan made for the door, sidestepping various guests and keeping his gaze fixed low so that he would not be held back by the need to greet anyone. His steps were hurried, his intention determined.

There was a good deal for him to think on now.