Page 12 of The Duke's Scandal
“You must think poorly of bluestockings, Your Grace,” Lord Welton continued, nudging Amos with his elbow in a most displeasing manner. “Most gentlemen in London think that way about them! There can be nothing good about such creatures, I am sure.”
“I do not think the same way, then,” Amos replied, snapping his heels together. “I shall take my leave of you all now and permit Lord Welton to have a conversation with you both in peace. Good afternoon.”
“Oh, Your Grace, please!”
Much to Amos’ surprise, Lady Clara stepped forward just as he was turning. Her hand reached out, grabbing at him, clearly determined to pull him back, only for her hand to snag on one of the buttons of his tailcoat. There came a pop, and, with that, the sound of something tearing. Lady Clara let out a squeak of surprise, then put both hands to her cheeks, her face now scarlet.
Amos looked down, seeing not only one button half torn from his tailcoat but another quite gone, leaving a hole where it ought to be. Every eye would be on him now, he was sure, for he could not easily walk through Hyde Park at the fashionable hour without being seen and this discrepancy noted!
“I can only apologize,” Lady Clara whispered, tears shimmering in her eyes as Amos glanced at her and thenstepped back, looking all around for the missing button. “I only meant to catch your arm for a moment.”
Seeing the button, Amos bent to pick it up. “Of course.” Struggling to smile against his own sense of embarrassment and the beginnings of anger, he bowed sharply. “Pray, think nothing of it. Do excuse me.”
As he began to walk away, he heard Lady Clara begin to cry, but did not turn his head to step back towards her. There was no comfort he could offer, not at this present moment. Quite what she had been doing, Amos could not imagine, for it was most improper for any young lady to grasp at his arm in the way she had done! This had not been a very pleasant afternoon, he considered, for the conversation with Lady Deborah and Lady Clara had not been enjoyable, and the arrival of Lord Welton had added nothing to it either! He had heard more than one person present remarking upon his single dance – and with a bluestocking no less – and now, no doubt, there would come more whispers about the state of his tailcoat!
All the same, I do not regret dancing with her,he thought to himself, striding across the park and doing his best to avoid looking at any of the other ladies and gentlemen who tried to catch his gaze.Lady Isobella was very lovely indeed.
He stopped suddenly, his brow furrowing. Lady Isobella was not someone who had appeared in the least bit taken with his standing as a Duke. She had spoken to him quite sharply at times, had shown no deference, and had not once attempted to be coy or teasing. Neither had she hidden the fact that she was a bluestocking from him, which was all the more noteworthy! If she had wanted to catch his attention in any way, then might she not have pretended she wasnotsuch a thing?
“She is beautiful, intelligent, and without façade,” he murmured aloud, his heart beginning to quicken its pace. “Might I not think of pursuingher?”
It was a strange thought, an unexpected one, but the more Amos let himself think on it, the more certain he became. Was this not what he had wanted? Had he not told himself that he wanted a young lady who would not gaze up at him with shining eyes, lost in a dream of good fortune and high standing? A smile began to spread across his face, his hope rising sharply. If he called upon her, then surely within a week or two, he would know for certain whether or not she was someone he could be drawn to! He would learn more about her, see more of her character, understand her all the better – and from that, could not courtship be in view?
His reverie was suddenly shattered by the loud crack of lightning, making him jump in fright. The thunder that came thereafter sent a tremor through his bones, swiftly followed by the beginnings of what swiftly became a downpour. All around him, gentlemen and ladies began to scramble for their carriages, with some screaming with fright at the furious sounds. Amos began to hurry, his ruined tailcoat now catching the brunt of the rain. He had quite forgotten where his carriage was, losing his bearings all the more in the melee that quickly swallowed him up. Relentless, the thunderstorm drove everyone from the park, soaking many – including Amos – to the bone.
Amos shoved one hand through his hair, grimacing. “No, Galbraith. I did not have the very best of afternoons.”
His brother-in-law chuckled, tipping his head as he regarded Amos. “I can see that.”
“The fashionable hour was… ” Taking a hold of his coat with each hand, he pulled it back a little, seeing the drips of water collecting at the edges. “It was a disaster.”
Lord Galbraith’s smile did not fade. “I presume that you had many a conversation, however?Beforethe rain, I mean?”
Amos stripped off his tailcoat and began to unbutton his waistcoat. He would take both to his bedchamber in a moment, where the valet could do his best to salvage them. “I had some. Most of them involved people demanding to know why I stood up with a bluestocking and refused to dance with any other.” He scowled, holding up the ripped tailcoat. “Thiswas Lady Clara’s attempt to keep me in her company when I tried to move away.” Grimacing, he shook his head. “The arrival of a Lord Welton pushed me from that conversation, but it appears she was determined to have me stay!”
“Goodness.” The smile on Lord Galbraith’s face was gone now. “That is a little… unfortunate.”
“I shall have it replaced, if it cannot be repaired,” Amos shrugged, “but it is the audacity of her actions which troubles me! Lady Deborah is not at all the same as her friend, but all the same, shedidseem upset that I stood up with Lady Isobella and not with her.”
“Understandably.”
This gave Amos pause.
“You said to three ladies, if not more, that you were not to dance,” Lord Galbraith said, as Amos pushed his fingers through his wet hair for the second time. “Then you forgot yourself and danced with Lady Isobella. They feel slighted, which is something I can understand.”
Amos grimaced. “It was not intentional.”
“I know.” Lord Galbraith sighed and then sat back in hischair, eyeing Amos. “But you are the Duke of Exeter. As I have said to you, time and again, you are going to be pursued by nearly every eligible young lady here in London!” He eyed Amos’s tailcoat. “I did not think that it would ever reach such an extent that your clothes would be torn, but all the same, that is something you must expect! Every young lady who is eligible will want to catch your eye.”
“Except for the bluestocking herself.”
Lord Galbraith’s eyebrows shot upwards.
“Lady Isobella, I mean,” Amos continued, walking across to where the decanter of whisky sat at the opposite end of the drawing room. “As I was walking away from Lady Clara and Lady Deborah, I realized that Lady Isobella was quite different from them both.”
“Oh? In what way?”
Amos poured a measure for himself and then one for Lord Galbraith. “She did nothing to garner my attention. Nor did she seek me out, eager for me to notice her.” Handing one glass to Lord Galbraith, he took a small sip of his own whisky, smacking his lips together as the heat began to wash over him. “I realized that young ladies want to do whatever they can to catch my interest. If I were she, I would not say anything about being a bluestocking, knowing what society thinks of them.”
