Page 17 of A Bluestocking for the Wicked Duke
“I remember your father when we were still courting. Your father was as impetuous as they come; ready to defend his honour at the slightest provocation. He was a very stubborn man, refusing to bend to the wiles of any other influence especially aided by the fact that his parents died early, making him Duke at a far younger age than you. Your father got into duels too, though not at the rate you do largely because he was not as skilled as you are. Despite all these behavioural deficiencies, I discovered behind that hot head was a thinking man. He was someone who loved strongly, a trait not shared by his son,” she said looking up to catch William’s gaze before continuing.
“A person who had good interests for people for whom he represented and most importantly, he listened to me. He saw my calm persona and unlike most men, recognized that his wife had a thinking head. I’m his greatest advisor. I have had this plan for years now and studied properly before picking this girl. I see a lot of myself in her, she will do you good.”
William shook his head in resignation and sat down. He looked up to his mother.
“You cannot force a man to marry mother,” he said.
“Don’t be mistaken son; this is not a design to enforce you to marry. This is to enforce you to see the girl, court her and see if you deign enough to marry her,” his mother replied.
“What is her name?” he asked.
The Duchess smiled when he said this. She walked to him and wrapped his right hand in her palms, she made to embrace him but his injured arm stopped her.
“Her name is Esther. She’ll be at the next ball. You can introduce yourself then. I shouldn’t bother telling you how to go about it. I’ve heard enough of your exploits with the ladies to know it is of no need telling you anything,” she said.
William blushed on hearing his mother say that. He remembered Lord James was still waiting for him in his chambers so he stood up and walked to the door.
“I have heard you. I’ll work on it,” he replied.
“William,” his mother called to him, causing him to turn back to look at her. “This affair is not to last more than three months. You are not to take advantage or waste the time of the young girl.”
William didn’t reply, he turned and started his walk to his chambers. He shook his head when he thought about it.
“James would make so much mockery,” he said as he turned into the long corridor.
Chapter 5
A Brittle Sword
William spent the next two weeks at home, recuperating and thinking about ways to repair his image. Lord James came almost every day and made the days bearable. The physician came every other day and helped ensure the injury was almost completely healed. The arm wasn’t hurting to lift or use now but William had not used a sword since he lost that day. He found he couldn’t bear the thought.
William took the free time to ruminate over the plot his mother had schemed up behind his back. He would approach Esther at the ball and request a dance. William remembered his playful, sensual flirt with Meredith Charlett, something along those lines.
I have to draw her in and make her feel alive to me.
Women respond to attention in different ways but every woman loves a doting man. He would visit Norfolk at every chance he had and spend as much time possible with her. He wasn’t planning to fall in love with her but it would be far more believable if she grew to like him. It would make the entire affair all the more believable. The only problem was he hadn’t seen her before and didn’t know what his initial impression would be. He hoped she was like his mother, beautiful and calm.
“It’s almost noon, James is meant to have been here,” William said to himself.
He was in the garden and the cool morning sun had becoming a blazer. He got up and walked into the house.
Maybe I can try a bit of sword practice when I am done. William went to his room and picked his sword. He unsheathed it in his room and checked its reflection on a china mantelpiece he had on his table. It was still as shiny as when he first got it. He swung the sword left then right, allowing it run through his fingers before changing its direction in one single movement. The graze of its handle and hilt against his palm excited him. His wound didn’t bite anymore, he could fight with it. William decided to practice a little before Lord James got to his place.
William sheathed the sword and walked to the courtyard. He turned around the sides of the garden. He was heading for the small foyer opposite the statue of the first Duke of Wellington; it was at the back of the house where he practiced his fencing. He went past the garden and could see the statue but he also heard clangs. People were there before him. He walked to the statue and stood behind it, protecting himself from the scorch of the sun. He could see the children quite clearly from there but he wasn’t sure they could see him.
They were young boys, couldn’t be more than eighteen. They chattered as they fenced. William studied them closely and saw that although one was taller than the other, they both had thick black hair. They had a lanky gait like one not properly fed and their voices came off with the same ring.
They are brothers.
The taller one seemed to be better than the shorter one because he kept evading his brother’s wild swings but whenever he threw his, it was blocked by his brother.
“I am allowing you practice. Don’t go thinking you are a match for me,” the taller boy said, as if he heard William think.
The shorter boy scoffed out loud, he shook his head.
“I have gotten all your tricks. I kept blocking all your attacks; if we have a real fight now, I will win,” he said.
His brother moved back and stopped fighting, causing the other one to face his sword downwards and look questioningly to his brother.
