Page 4 of The Duke’s Reluctant Muse (The Untamed Nobles #3)
“I have recently come to understand that one of my shortcomings has been the expectation that a young lady's true character is precisely that which she presents to those in her company.” Elizabeth read aloud, a gentle frown sweeping across her brow as she struggled to make sense of what the Duke of Nottingham meant. “‘Lord Dalton – you may remember him – has informed me that I was foolish to think that the gentle sweetness presented by the young ladies I considered was, in fact, their true character. One, for example, might have a terrible temper, whilst another might find my conversation quite dull, were she honest!’”
This made her laugh softly, the lines on her forehead gentling as shook her head, knowing full well that such a thing was quite true and finding it rather surprising that the gentleman himself had not been aware of it before. She had, on occasion, chosen to express interest and appear almost fascinated in a gentleman’s affairs, whatever it had been, whilst at the very same time finding the subject entirely dull. Holding the letter in one hand, Elizabeth lifted her head and thought for a moment, chuckling softly to herself as she recalled how she had been required to smile, nod and murmur expressions of interest when one Lord Hobarth had told her of his interest in crop rotation. It was, she had learned later, something that a good many gentlemen were thinking of, for it was meant to benefit their crops and thus give a better yield, but she had been so bored by the conversation, it had been difficult to give the man her full attention. No doubt Lord Hobarth had thought her greatly interested in all that he had told her, just as the Duke of Nottingham had believed that these three young ladies had all been interested in whatever it was he had spoken of with them. She sighed, shaking her head as she returned her attention to the letter, wondering if, mayhap, the Duke of Nottingham would require any more assistance considering he had already come to realize that his expectations had been far too great.
‘ I am certain, however, ’ the letter continued, ‘ that there are many other things I am doing or saying that are of equal fault. During my time at Eton, I was practically silent when in the company of young ladies and my past situation has brought a certain disinclination to company, I will admit, but even now, when I do attempt conversation, I fear I have too much of a dark reputation to even be considered. I am in despair! I am not at all certain as to what parts of my character, manner or behaviour I ought to alter first, not at all sure what might be even a little endearing to young ladies in society. Given that I am already a disagreeable prospect to the ton simply by my presence alone, can I think that there could be any hope for me at all?’
Elizabeth set the letter down, choosing not to read the final paragraph for the time being. Her brow puckered, her lips pursing as she considered what she had read. The Duke of Nottingham, she feared, was becoming so melancholy and irritated with all of society that he now considered himself to be practically unable to set foot into any one of the many soirees, balls and the like! She did not want him to be thoroughly dejected, she supposed, for she had to find a way to give him a little hope rather than ask further questions about what it was he did or said that might push the young ladies of the ton away. This was now the third letter that she had responded to, although the previous two had been nothing as deep nor as serious as this. The second had been a response to her first letter to him, stating that he was not entirely sure as to why these young ladies had rejected him but he believed that his absence from society had been one reason for it. He had also stated that his demeanor had a part to play, though he had not been specific in that regard, and then he finished with his awareness that his lack of joviality might be of some concern. His third letter – this one – had come before she had even had opportunity to respond to the second, seeming, to her, to be in a state of great upset and frustration and it was this that Elizabeth now had to respond to.
And we are soon to go to London.
Her brother’s desire to return to London had not found its fulfillment, though all the plans were made and the townhouse was quite prepared for them. As yet, however, Lord Dennington had not yet fully recovered and was still in need of rest though he kept insisting that they would depart from the estate in a little over a sennight. Whether such a thing would take place or not, Elizabeth could not be sure.
Sighing, she pressed her lips together and considered the letter and the gentleman who had written it. There was a growing curiosity in her heart to meet the Duke of Nottingham, regardless of just how despondent a fellow he thought himself. Surely, if he had been to Eton and the like, he knew the manners and standards expected of a gentleman and yet, somehow, the ladies of London society pushed away from him. Even though he had a high title, the shadows he pulled over himself and his prolonged absence from society – though she did not know the reason for that – appeared to be all that the ton saw.
“You look thoughtful, my dear sister.”
Elizabeth started, a slight blush coming into her cheeks as she saw her brother’s lifted brows.
“Good afternoon, brother.” She picked up the Duke’s letter. “I have received another letter from the Duke of Nottingham,” she replied, reminding herself that she had no need to be embarrassed given that her brother had been the one to encourage her to continue writing to the fellow under the guise of his hand. “I am considering what would be best to say to him. I have received two letters in quick succession and I found his second letter to be a good deal more gloomy than the first.”
Lord Dennington sighed and, with greater care than Elizabeth might have expected, eased himself into a large, overstuffed armchair. He contemplated her for some moments and Elizabeth did not find need to say anything further, her gaze returning to the letter.
“Mayhap you ought to be introduced to the Duke of Nottingham, once we make our way to London,” he said abruptly, making Elizabeth wonder if he had somehow read her thoughts. “I can see that you are intrigued by him.”
“How can I not be?” Elizabeth replied, as her brother chuckled. “In truth, however, I do feel a great deal of sympathy for the man. He appears to be a little dejected and I fear that if I do not reply with some great encouragement, he might decide to quit London altogether.” Shaking her head, she reached down and picked up the letter once more, her eyes roving over the carefully written words. “He still attempted to tell me why these three young ladies so quickly refused him. It is something to do with his years away from London and the melancholy which poured into him at that time – melancholy that he wears still.” She smiled a little sorrowfully. “In addition, he has spoken of something that his friend has informed him about when it comes to young ladies and says that it had given him much to consider." Her gaze lingered on the last few lines, her heart quickening as she finished the letter. “The Duke of Nottingham states that he hopes he will see you again soon, brother,” she finished, throwing a quick glance towards him and seeing his eyes closed, his frame seeming to soften into the chair a little more. “I do not think that you ought to be thinking about going to London as yet, however. You still appear quite fatigued.”
At this, Lord Dennington’s eyes flew open as if he wanted to refute her suggestion immediately. He opened his mouth but Elizabeth lifted one eyebrow – and at this, her brother sighed, rolled his eyes and looked away.
“I shall write to him again,” she said, half to herself and half to her brother. “I shall encourage him not to give up and to suggest that he should practise his conversation and the like with a…..” Frowning, Elizabeth tapped her lip with one finger, her eyes roving around the room as she thought. “A willing partner,” she finished, although her brother snorted at this remark, making her lips purse and her brows lower. “If you have a better suggestion, then might I suggest you make it?” she said, one hand planting itself on her hips. “I am not certain who it is the Duke of Nottingham might speak to but surely he must have a sister or a cousin he could turn to?”
“He does not.” Her brother grinned at her, seemingly desperate to prove that he was not as fatigued as she knew him to be. His most recent headache had dissipated and as yet, had not returned but his weariness remained and Elizabeth wanted to make certain her brother rested just as much as possible. “And whilst I would be very glad indeed to offer myself to the Duke of Nottingham as a conversation partner, I highly doubt that having another gentleman to speak to would be of any use.”
Elizabeth bit her lip, looking down at the letter and finding herself in a sudden quandary. To have someone to speak with, to have a lady to make certain that one’s conversation was all that it ought to be and that there was no darkness in the gentleman’s expression or manner would be the very best encouragement she could offer the Duke of Nottingham at present. But if the gentleman had none to turn to, no-one that he might think of who would do such a thing for him, then her suggestion would be futile.
She bit her lip.
At present, I have no other thought as to what I might say, no other encouragement to give.
Her brow furrowed.
“Elizabeth?”
She lifted her gaze to her brother, seeing him grin at her with a twinkle stubbornly sparkling in his eye. “Yes?”
“I have had an excellent idea.” With a broad grin sweeping across his face, the smile taking some of the paleness from his face, he swept out one hand towards her. “I have thought that you might offer yourself as a conversation partner to the Duke of Nottingham.”
Elizabeth’s instinct was to shake her head, to refuse the very idea that she herself had only just thought of, only to realize that, if she truly did wish to be of assistance to the Duke, then she would have to do something more than just respond to another letter. “You forget, however, that we are not yet in society,” she said, the idea swirling through her and making her stomach twist with a sharp anxiety. “We have not yet made firm plans to go to London.”
“Then we shall make them quite firm and determined.” Her brother shrugged. “I have recovered a good deal and –”
“You are still very fatigued,” she interrupted, her concern growing. “The journey to London is not an easy one and the ache in your head might return if we are travelling! I cannot have you involved in this matter unless you are quite certain that you are well enough to do so.”
Lord Dennington smiled, leaning his head back against the chair. “I shall not pretend that I am at my full strength, Elizabeth,” he said, quietly, “but I do not want to sit in this house for another sennight without seeing anyone else other than my butler and my valet!” He chuckled, seeing her lifted brows. “That is not to say that you are not with excellent company, my dear, but there comes a time when –”
“I understand,” Elizabeth interrupted, not wanting a long and expressive explanation from her brother. “If you truly believe that you are recovered enough, then of course, we could go to London but I cannot permit you to re-enter society so recklessly.”
Lord Dennington’s eyebrows lifted. “If we do make our way to London, then I give you every assurance I shall do no such thing. Instead, I will remain at home and rest as much as is required and only attend things like afternoon tea.”
“But you do not like tea!”
With a shout of laughter, Lord Dennington sat up a little straighter. “My dear sister, what I mean to say is that I shall rest when it is required and only attend occasions I feel able to enjoy without growing weary.” His eyes brightened. “Would you consent if I suggested that you be the one to choose which one we should attend? That way, I will be contented and you will be able to meet the Duke of Nottingham also!”
Elizabeth frowned, not quite certain of her brother’s intentions. “But how can I be sure which gathering the Duke of Nottingham will also be attending?”
He shrugged. “Pray, why do you not inquire of him which invitation he has received for the fortnight hence?” he suggested, as Elizabeth’s frown grew, wondering just how many invitations her brother would find waiting for him once he arrived in London and just how many notes of either acceptance or gentle refusal she would have to write. “I am sure that, very soon, you will be able to meet the Duke of Nottingham in person – and then you need not fret so much over your replies. You will be able to see his manner for yourself!”
With a slight smile on her face, Elizabeth came towards her brother, her eyes slightly narrowed and one finger pointing toward him. “I do hope you are aware that once we arrive in London, you will require me to write to each and every person who has sent you an invitation to any sort of event,” she said, softly, “and I shall accept only those where the Duke of Nottingham will be present and where you yourself also feel able to join other guests.” Her hand dropped to her lap. “And that is only after I have written to the Duke himself to ask which occasions he will be attending within the next fortnight!”
Lord Dennington chuckled, although he rested his head back against the chair, his eyes sliding closed. “Precisely that. It is just as well that you have an excellent hand.”
“And that I am so generous with my time,” Elizabeth laughed, rising and, coming closer to put her hand on his shoulder. “But, given that it is for your sake and for the Duke of Nottingham’s sake, I shall do so.”
“Thank you, Elizabeth,” her brother replied, his voice quieter now as sleep began to overtake him. “I look forward to stepping out into society once more.”
And I look forward to stepping into London society for the first time, Elizabeth thought to herself, although she had to admit there was a little nervousness beginning to creep up inside her. She had never been in London society before and, given that it would be the height of the summer Season, she knew there would be a good many gentlemen and ladies present still. She would be noticed by them, scrutinized and, should she make a single mistake, spoken of by the ton . Given that the Duke of Nottingham was struggling within the ton himself – and he a Duke – Elizabeth was all too aware that she might easily stumble into difficulty herself, were she not careful.
“But I shall be careful,” she said to herself, making her way through the house and shivering slightly at the colder air that wrapped her through the hallways. “And I am to meet the Duke himself!” A slight warmth was rising in her as she thought of that moment, her curiosity over his appearance and demeanor settling within her. So long as her brother was cautious in his interactions – and so long as the Duke did not discover that it was she who wrote to him – then Elizabeth was certain all would be well.