Page 5 of The Duke's Reluctant Muse
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, withoutever 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.
Chapter Three
“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 washehad 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 thetonsimply 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 thetonaway. 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 thathis 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 letterandthe 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 thetonsaw.
“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 butElizabeth 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?”
