Duke's Folly Page 13

  'How…interesting. I regret I must interrupt your discussions, because it is time we made our way to the hall to greet our guests.'

  Perry jumped up, glad that this awkward interlude was over, but he was to be allowed no respite. As he escorted Lady Flintley to the hall she murmured, 'It is a pity, your grace, that the Ashertons are present this evening. As a viscountess and the most senior lady present you will be obliged to lead her out for the first dance, but after that you may please yourself. There will be plenty of time to spend with Honoria.'

  Perry inclined his head. He did not doubt Lady Flintley would make sure of it.

  No one watching the duke during the ball thought anything amiss, for he hid his ill temper well, but beneath the polite exterior his anger simmered. It was directed mainly at himself for allowing the situation to develop, but it was also directed towards Lady Flintley. Every time she provided an opportunity for him to be alone with Honoria, Perry stubbornly avoided it. The night turned into a game of cat and mouse. Perry berated himself for cowardice, but he could not bring himself to utter the words that would seal his fate forever.

  Supper was announced and Perry joined the Flintleys at their table, and when they returned to the ballroom he was relieved when the Marquess of Tormarten solicited Lady Honoria's hand for the next two dances.

  Lord Flintley touched his arm. 'I have just taken delivery of a very fine brandy, your grace. Perhaps you would like to join me in the library to try it?'

  Another ruse, thought Perry, as he followed his host out of the ballroom. His host would remind him of his duty and then he would summon Honoria to join them. Well, so be it. It was getting late, he could not delay any longer.

  The library was at the far end of a long passage and once the door was shut they could hear nothing from the ballroom. Lord Flintley waved Perry to a chair and went over to the sideboard to pour brandy into two glasses.

  'That's better,' he said, handing a glass to Perry and settling himself into a chair opposite. 'I'm glad to be away from all that racket, what?'

  'Yes, sir.'

  Outwardly calm as he savoured the fiery liquid, Perry steeled himself, waiting for the lecture to begin.

  'Well, my boy, I can't say this evening has turned out the way I expected.'

  'No, and I beg your pardon for that.' Perry took another fortifying sip of brandy. 'I am aware, sir, that your daughter is expecting me to speak to her. Today, tonight! I fully intended. That is―'

  The earl waved aside his excuses. 'Got cold feet have you, my boy? Well I don't mind admitting the same thing happened to me the first time I tried to propose to her mother. But, of course, in those days it was customary to approach the father first and have everything agreed beforehand.' He sighed. 'But there, my lady wife was eager to arrange the whole. Perhaps if you had come to me…'

  Perry interrupted him. 'But I am well aware that you have no objection to the marriage, sir, Lady Flintley has always made that abundantly clear to me.'

  Lord Flintley swirled the last of the brandy around his glass. 'There is no doubt my wife is very keen on this match.'

  Perry frowned. 'She has done everything but lock us in a room together.'

  'Aye,' said the earl gloomily. 'The women in this family do rather unman a fellow, what?' He got up and refilled their glasses. 'Lady Flintley knew what she wanted when she set her cap at me and she got it. Honoria is much the same.'

  For a while they savoured the brandy in silence, each lost in his own thoughts. After a few minutes Perry gave a bleak smile.

  'It appears this is a case of history repeating itself, sir.' He raised his glass in a final salute and tipped the contents down his throat.

  'Don't do it.'

  Perry choked. 'I beg your pardon?'

  'Worst mistake of my life,' muttered the earl. 'Marrying Honoria's mother. Get out now, my boy, while you have the chance.'

  Perry stared at him.

  'But how can I?' he said. 'It is impossible. Not only have I given my word to Lady Flintley, but if I do not propose it will dash all your daughter's hopes.'

  'Oh, she'll get over it,' replied Honoria's fond father. 'After all it ain't as if her heart's engaged. Very much like her mother in that regard.' He continued thoughtfully, 'I don't think either of 'em has a heart. No, my boy. If your heart ain't in it don't offer for Honoria. Your father and I were best friends when we were young, which is why we hatched this mawkish idea between us. And of course my wife is all in favour of it. She thinks the title is worth everything, and completely ignores the fact that your father let his acres go to rack and ruin. But I am fond of you, Peregrine, too fond to let you do something that can only lead to a lifetime of regret. I'd go now if I were you, I'll make your apologies for you.'

  Perry frowned. The earl's words had caused hope to rise up, but he batted it down again. Firmly.

  'That is very generous of you, sir, but it's impossible for me to back out now, when both your wife and daughter are expecting me to make an offer. What sort of fellow would that make me?'

  'A damned sensible one!' retorted the earl. 'As for Honoria and her mother, they'll come about, trust me. Tormarten has been casting out lures and he will suit Honoria much better. Not a duke, of course, but a Marquess is the next best thing! His fortune is not much greater than yours, but I can afford to be generous, and we'll tie up the settlements so that Honoria can rule the roost. His properties are more to her taste, too. Honoria don't care for farmland or snug little properties. She wants to make a splash in London and you've already sold your townhouse, which doesn't please her in the least. And let us be honest about it, Cullenmore is no Chatsworth or Blenheim, is it? Honoria would have you rebuilding it within the year if you make her your wife and she might well bankrupt you in the process!

  'No, my boy, Tormarten has a great palace of a town house in Grosvenor Square, plus a huge crumbling pile in Bedfordshire. Not to mention a bishop's palace just outside Brighton.' The earl rose to his feet. 'No, he may not be a duke, but he will suit my daughter very well, you mark my words. Now off you go, your grace, and enjoy your freedom while you can.'

  'But the ball.' Perry rose, too. 'Everyone will be expecting an announcement.'

  'I shall make sure everyone knows I sent you away with a flea in your ear. Dashed upstart.' Lord Flintley drew himself up. 'I am master in this house and it's about time I acted as such. I refuse to give you my daughter's hand in marriage. My family can trace its roots back to the conqueror, sirrah, your title dates only from the Stuarts, and some pretty shady characters at that!'

  The gleam in the old man's eyes belied his haughty tone. Perry felt the weight lifting from his shoulders. He grasped the earl's hand, a smile starting deep within and spreading through his body.

  'I will go then, my lord. And thank you. I am forever in your debt.'

  'Yes yes, go home, my boy. No need to take your leave of the ladies, I will do that for you.' A slow smile had spread over the old man's face and he chuckled. 'And do you know, I think I am going to enjoy this!'

  *

  Only on the very coldest nights did Perry allow the window of his room to be closed or the hangings around the ducal bed to be pulled and he awoke to brilliant sunshine and birdsong. He put his hands behind his head and gazed at the cloudless September sky visible through the glass.

  He could not quite believe that he was free. Five days ago he had set out for the Flintleys' ball with all the enjoyment of a man on his way to the scaffold, only to be reprieved at the last moment by his host. He had left Dulverton House in a daze and had spent the next few days waiting for the countess to summon him back to do his duty. Instead he had received an elegant missive from Lady Honoria informing him that any understanding between them must be at an end because she was now betrothed to the Most Honourable the Marquess of Tormarten.

  'Honoria is happy as a grig about it,' Lord Flintley had explained when he called, shortly after the note had been received. 'But that might be because I told her mother to tak
e her to Town and rig her out in the finest of everything and to spare no expense. So you see, your grace, everything has worked out for the best. You can look about you for a wife who'll make you happy.'

  Even the brilliant sunshine could not prevent a momentary chill. There was the rub, thought Perry, as he threw back the covers and rang for his valet. The woman who had stolen his heart was not duchess material. She was not born to it. She had grown up on an island where she had been allowed to run wild. She was used to growing and preparing her own food, working with her hands in the garden, climbing trees to capture runaway cockerels―he had even arrived at Duke's Folly one day to find her astride that dashed Welsh cob, skirts tucked up and bare legs on view for everyone to see!

  When he had left the ball at Dulverton House, his spirits had been soaring. His first thought had been to return to Duke's Folly and ask Sophie to marry him, but by the morning he had come down to earth. It would never work. While he was honour-bound to Honoria, Perry had not consciously thought of Sophie as anything other than a friend. Indeed, even when he realised he was in love with her he had not thought any further than the fact that she could never be his. However, a night's sober reflection had convinced him that marrying Sophie would be a disaster.

  To bring her here to Cullenmore and install her in this barrack of a house, to pile upon her shoulders the duties that he had taken upon himself―it could only smother her natural spirit. The number of servants, the size of this house compared to the castle, it would intimidate her. She would be miserable, and not for the world did he want that. Her happiness meant more to him than anything.

  Although Perry chose to put on his frockcoat and doeskin riding breeches, he spent an hour with Rafford in the steward's room after breakfast and then shut himself in his study and tried to immerse himself in work. However, the pile of correspondence on his desk was daunting. Bills from tradesmen, estimates for renewing the roof of one property and repairing the wing of another; facts and figures from Rafford to help him decide whether to continue with the building programme his father had initiated to extend the hunting lodge, or to cut his losses and sell it.

  He pushed them all aside and reached for the account ledgers, but they told a sorry tale. The plans he had put in place had stopped the rot, but there was much yet to do to restore the damage done to his estates by a decade of neglect and overspending. Perry dropped his head in his hands. Perhaps he should have married Honoria after all. At least then his financial worries would be over, he could have had the resources to restore everything, simply by signing the marriage settlements.

  'The Duchess of Cullenmore has arrived, your grace.' Perry looked up quickly as Barton made the announcement in a voice devoid of all emotion. 'I have shown her grace into the morning room.'

  'Very good, I shall go there now.' Perry pushed himself out of his chair. 'And have refreshments sent up. Wine, cakes, that sort of thing.'

  'That is already in hand, your grace.'

  Yes it would be, thought Perry as he strode away from his desk. Barton had been butler here since his grandfather's time and knew exactly what was required.

  Perry used the time walking from his study to wipe all signs of anxiety from his countenance. He paused a moment at the morning room door to arrange a suitably happy smile on his lips before entering. His mother was arrayed in a fetching lavender silk walking dress with a matching cap fixed over her dark curls. She was sitting on a sofa, leafing through a gentleman's magazine, but she threw it aside when she saw him.

  'Mama!' He hurried towards her, hands held out. 'An unexpected pleasure. What brings you here?'

  'You.' She did not rise from the sofa but kissed his cheek and pulled him down to sit beside her.

  'Do you plan to stay long?' he asked. 'You should have sent word,'

  'Surely I do not need permission to visit you, Perry?'

  'No indeed, Mama, but―'

  She interrupted him with a wave of her hand. 'You need not fret, Mrs Logan is preparing my rooms, so there is no difficulty. There was no time to send ahead.' She shifted around a little so that she might look into his face. 'I saw Lady Asherton yesterday.'

  'Ah.' Perry sat back, regarding his mother warily.

  'Indeed,' she said. 'Perhaps you will tell me just what occurred? It has always been understood that you and Lady Honoria would make a match of it. Your last letter to me said quite clearly that you would be making her an offer at the ball, but now it seems she is going to wed Tormarten.' She fixed him with a stare. 'What is going on, Perry?'

  He jumped up and walked over to the window, raking one hand through his hair.

  'I could not bring myself to do it, Mama. I had agreed the whole with Lady Flintley, and I fully intended to propose to Honoria at the ball. However, when I got there they made it blindingly obvious what was expected, and the harder they tried to force a meeting, the more I backed away.'

  'I can see that such behaviour might upset you, Perry, but you had given your word. I would not expect any child of mine to act dishonourably.'

  'I hope I have not done so, Mama. You see, towards midnight Lord Flintley took me aside. He advised me not to persevere with my suit and sent me home. In fact, he refused my offer!'

  'Good heavens!'

  'Aye.' Perry felt a smile tugging at his mouth but decided not to share the whole of that interview with his fond Mama. 'He ended by saying he preferred Tormarten for his daughter.'

  His mother's dark eyes widened, but the servants entered at that moment, bearing trays laden with wine and cakes. She closed her lips upon any infelicitous utterance until they were alone again, then she bade Perry come and pour wine for them both.

  'I must admit I am relieved,' she said as he handed her a glass. 'I was always afraid you and Honoria were not suited. But why could you not do it, Perry?' She hesitated, then said quietly, 'Have you fallen in love with another lady?'

  'Not one I can marry,' he said bleakly.

  He had returned to the window and was staring out, unseeing, over the gardens.

  'Mercy me! Is she married then, or―'

  'No, no, nothing like that,' he assured her hastily.

  'Then I am afraid I do not understand you.'

  Perry exhaled. He finished his wine and returned to sit beside her on the sofa, resting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands before him.

  'When I first came back from the ball, I thought, if I was not marrying Honoria that I could ask Sophie―'

  'Is that her name?' the duchess interrupted him. 'How pretty.'

  'That is beside the point. I cannot possibly marry her.'

  'Good heavens, my love, do not tell me you have lost your heart to, to someone wholly unsuitable.'

  'It is not her breeding that is the problem,' he said. 'Far from it. Her father is related to French nobility, and her mother was the daughter of an English earl, but her upbringing has been … unconventional. She is not rich, knows nothing of wealth or power or privilege and she has enjoyed far more freedom than I could ever know.' He sighed. 'That is the problem, Mama. My life now is one of, of protocol and duty. There are always calls to be paid, visitors to be received, decisions to be made. And one is constantly hedged about by lackeys, waiting to serve. I cannot sneeze without one of them running to bring me a handkerchief! Sophie knows nothing of this way of life. It would stifle her to be so confined, and her happiness means more to me than anything.'

  Her mind relieved of its biggest worry, the duchess reached over and took one of his hands, pulling it onto her lap and clasping it firmly.

  'I am intrigued, my love,' she said, smiling at him. 'Tell me everything.'

  And Perry did. Haltingly at first, he explained how he had gone to Duke's Folly, pretending to be an ordinary gentleman and become friends with Monsieur Coutras and his family. He ended by telling her of the last, painful meeting and the arrangements he had put in place for the future.

  'Monsieur Coutras was very generous, but there is no doubt I behaved very badly, Mama. I
betrayed their trust in me. I did not even have the opportunity to confess the whole, and I am not sure they believed me when I said I had intended to do so.'

  'Oh, if they learned to know you at all then I am sure they believed that of you. And I think you have done your best to make amends for your errors,' she told him, squeezing his hand. 'You have removed a scoundrelly agent and replaced him with an honest one, and you have gone out of your way to provide for the family.'

  'I am only doing what I believe my grandfather would have wanted.'

  'Tell me about Miss Coutras,' she urged him. 'Would I like her?'

  'Why yes, I think you would, Mama. She is a very independent young lady, strong-willed, too, but she is also kind, witty, intelligent―she reads widely and her father educated her alongside her brothers. She works hard and knows a great deal about gardening,' he laughed. 'Although possibly more about growing food for the table than flowers.'

  'Is she beautiful?'

  He considered that for a moment.

  'She is to me,' he said at last, smiling. 'She reminds me of a summer field, her eyes blue as cornflowers and her hair the colour of the corn itself. But her face has too much character to be called beautiful. She has a stubborn tilt to her chin and her mouth is not a rosebud, but wider, always on the verge of laughing.'

  'Heavens,' murmured his mother. 'And you love her very much.'

  'Aye.' His smile faded. He gently drew his fingers from her comforting grasp and put his head in his hands. 'Too much to ask her to share my burdens. As duke it is my duty to maintain Cullenmore and its people. A great many families depend upon me for their livelihood, and some of the estates require a deal of work to make them viable again, if that is even possible. It is a lifetime's work.'

  For a few moments they were silent, then the duchess laid a hand on his shoulder.

  She said, 'You believe you are not free―cabined, cribbed, confined by your birth and your title. Your responsibilities. That is true, up to a point, but you know as well as I that there are solutions. Duty need not be all consuming.'