Page 5 of His Darling Duchess
The measure of the dance separated them for a moment before bringing them back together.
“Thank you, my lady, but all congratulations must go to my aunt. Lady Grantleigh is the mastermind of the festivities.”
“Then I congratulate you on your wisdom, for leaving all in her hands!” Aurelia said lightly, and was startled when a smile curved Stowe’s lips upwards briefly.
She had to return then to her original partner and did not see Stowe again, but the memory of that smile, the way his almost-black eyes lightened for the briefest moment, stayed with her.
He was very handsome when he smiled.
“No more for now, I beg you,” Stowe begged when his aunt caught his arm again and seemed ready to introduce him to yet another young lady.
Lady Grantleigh gave him a penetrating look. “You cannot be tired!”
“Not in body, ma’am,” he replied. “It has been long since I had to make small talk with so many people.”
His aunt’s expression softened. “Very well. Would you like to walk with me around the ballroom?”
He would not. Everyone knew his aunt, and they would be stopped every few paces by people using the excuse of their acquaintance with her to talk to him. “I need a little peace and quiet,” he attempted to excuse himself.
Lady Grantleigh considered him for a moment before nodding regally. “Return in time for supper,” she instructed. “You may take me in, and we will sit with some people you should get to know better.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Stowe said, feeling rather as though he were a small boy again. His aunt was not a lady easily gainsaid, however, and accompanying her into supper was the least he owed her.
Leaving the ballroom was no easy task, since several people stopped him to offer their congratulations on the success of the ball. Stowe thought they were premature; there was still plenty of time for some disaster to occur which would make the event memorable for all the wrong reasons. Lady Aurelia’s pert remark about his wisdom in leaving all to his aunt came to mind as heaccepted yet another empty platitude, and he smiled inwardly. The fairy princess was possessed of wit as well as beauty.
His cousin Grantleigh was a lucky man.
Finally escaping the crowded ballroom, he discovered the surrounding hallways to be no less empty, small groups standing together and gossipping, ladies flitting in and out of the retiring rooms, shouts of laughter and clouds of cigar smoke emanating from the card room where many of the gentlemen had retreated.
Relieved he’d had the foresight to declare the library and his attached study off-limits for the evening and station a footman at the door to ensure his wishes were respected, he nodded to the footman at the door.
“Good evening, John.”
“Seems like everyone’s having a good time, Your Grace,” John said.
Many might be shocked at the man’s informality, Stowe mused as John opened the door for him and he slipped into the library, darkened save for a fire burning in the grate. Many of his servants were former soldiers, however, who’d served with him on the Continent. When he returned to England and began to open the estates, he’d made it a point to find his men and seek to find them gainful employment. John was one such, and re-training from being a rifleman to a duke’s footman wasn’t something that happened overnight.
Passing through the library into his study on the other side, Stowe picked up the brandy decanter on the wide board and poured a splash into a glass. Walking over to the window, he sipped pensively as he gazed out into the gardens. At least those were quiet; although his aunt had ordered lanterns hung in the trees, bare of their leaves at the moment, the cold weather and occasional showers of rain were keeping the guests indoors.
Leaning his brow against the cool glass, Stowe took several deep breaths, letting the quiet surround him. The noise of theballroom bore no real resemblance to the boom of cannon, cracks of rifle fire and the screams of dying on the battlefield, so he had no idea why it should disturb him so.
“I will get past this,” he whispered to himself. “I must.”
His father had neglected every duty of the dukedom save for the Stowe country estates, openly stating his despite for politics, socialising, and in truth, other people. Determined to make up for his father’s failings, Stowe planned to be a voice in the House of Lords for those who had none, beginning with England’s returning soldiers who had no place to go and no jobs to sustain them.
Sighing deeply, he took another sip of brandy, chiding himself for self-pity when he stood in a fine house wearing a suit of clothes which cost far more than an average man’s annual wage. He’d return to the party when the music he could distantly hear ceased, take his aunt in to supper and do everything he could to begin his campaign to win other men active in politics over to his point of view.
A sound in the library next door, the room which should be vacant of company, made him turn his head with a frown. Was that a woman’s voice? Annoyed, he strode to the door and flung it open, ready to snap at whoever had somehow talked their way past John to cut up his too-brief moment of peace.
Chapter Three
Aurelia was sure shewas pink in the face when she finished an energetic country dance with a colonel whose dancing belied his age; the man must be sixty, but skipped and bounded about like a man half his age. Aurelia was hard-pressed to keep up, and gratefully accepted the cup of orgeat her mother presented her with.
“Here’s Grantleigh for your dance,” Lady Lymsey said. “Are you sure you wish to give him two, my dear?” she lowered her voice.
“I actually think I will ask if we might take a walk about the room instead,” Aurelia admitted. “I’m growing weary, and my feet are a little sore.”
In truth, her new silver slippers were pinching her toes and she thought a blister might be forming on her heel, but she would not for the world admit it. Not when Lady Lymsey might suggest they leave early.
