Page 3 of The Duke's Reluctant Muse
“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 tocontinuewriting 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 inthinking 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!”
Chapter Two
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 preciselywhyJonathan 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 letterandhis 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 cardtable 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.
“Youarehiding,” 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!”
