A Damsel for the Daring Duke_A Historical Regency Romance Page 6

  “I am a specimen to you and nothing more,” he remarked and laughed.

  “You are a specimen, Lord Harrington. But I am a very keen observer, so perhaps it is not such a bad thing.”

  “I think it would be best if I simply take whatever I can get from you. Accept anything, that will be my motto henceforth.”

  “And a very fine motto it is too.” She smiled and bobbed her head a little before excusing herself to partner her bungling father in another game of bridge.

  When James brought himself back to the here and now, he realized that he was smiling to himself. He then quickly realized that Lady Felicia Trent was smiling back at him, obviously believing his smile to be for her.

  Oh, how he would love to correct her for a change! But it would be unkind and ungentlemanly.

  “I do hope you will be able to attend the little garden party that my father’s cousin is arranging two weeks from now,” Felicia said hopefully.

  “Two weeks?” James said and winced more dramatically than a stage actor might have managed. “Oh dear, I rather think I cannot.”

  “And why is that, James?” his father said loudly, reminding him of his presence at the table.

  “I am afraid I have already agreed to something and am engaged elsewhere,” James said somewhat crisply, annoyed at being questioned at the dinner table like a child.

  “I presume it is over in the east somewhere? Something to do with Hanover Hall again?” The Duke sounded exasperated, but it was clear that he would save his real fury for later.

  “You presume correct, Father,” James said and quietly thought that his father could do his worst.

  He was going to Hanover Hall and the east and Charlotte, and nothing was going to stop him.

  Chapter 7

  It was the hardest thing in the world for Charlotte to appear calm and collected at the breakfast table when what she wanted to do most in the world was run away to her chamber as fast as her legs would carry her so that she might ring the bell for Ruth and tell her everything.

  Of course, she could have told her father what was in the note, for he really was just the sort of father you could share such information with.

  Still, she wanted Ruth to see it first to be on the safe side. Ruth always had good common sense about her, and she would know if Charlotte ought to mention it to her father or not. Ruth would have the wisest solution.

  “Are you not eating this morning, Charlotte?” her father asked as he looked from his own well-stocked plate to her little empty one.

  “Oh yes,” Charlotte said, knowing that the quickest way to have her father concerned about the note was to sit there not eating.

  If she carried on as normal, he would not bat an eyelid. He would think that she had received an invitation from one of her acquaintances, the details of which he could most certainly live without.

  Charlotte forced herself to load her plate with a few items and to set about her breakfast in the calm manner she ordinarily did. She had stowed the note in the pocket of her gown, and it was almost as if she could feel it there, pulsating with a life of its own.

  She knew, of course, that it could not be, but that small piece of paper in her pocket was precisely where her consciousness lay at that moment.

  “So, do you have any plans for today, my dear?” Her father, who had just poured himself hot tea from the pot, seemed to be shrouded in clouds of steam.

  How did he manage to make such an effort and performance of the simplest practical task?

  “Nothing in particular, although I thought I might have a walk later on. This afternoon, perhaps,” Charlotte said, already laying the foundations for her secretive excursion. “What about you, Papa?”

  “Oh, a little of this and a little of that,” he said as he cut a piece of sausage meat. “I thought I might have a few words with the gardener, just some direction about the placement of the new camellias.”

  “I am sure he will manage very well, Papa,” Charlotte said and groaned inwardly for the gardener’s sake. “He has probably already picked out the best place for them depending on soil drainage and orientation for sunlight and what have you.”

  “Oh, yes, I am sure,” her father agreed readily, but there was a look on his face which told Charlotte clearly that he was not going to keep his nose out of the gardener’s business. “But two heads are always better than one, are they not?”

  “I daresay it depends on the heads,” Charlotte answered and chuckled quietly to herself.

  “Beg pardon?”

  “Nothing, Papa.”

  Breakfast seemed to go on forever and ever, and her excitement had meant that she had no appetite at all. Still, Charlotte had made herself eat everything on her plate and do so at the normal speed before finally excusing herself from the table and sedately walking from the room.

  By the time she reached the stairs, however, Charlotte had sped up considerably. She took the stairs very quickly and could hear the somewhat unladylike stamping of her feet on every step the faster she went.

  As soon as she reached her chamber, she pulled the bell rope that would see Ruth speedily making her way to her as she always did. Whilst she waited for her, Charlotte paced back and forth with the note open in her hand, reading his words over and over again.

  After some minutes, there was a light tap on the door, and it opened immediately to reveal Ruth Clarkin.

  “Ruth, how glad I am to see you,” Charlotte said excitedly. “Really, I have had to contain myself at the breakfast table and make such a performance of everything so that Papa did not suspect anything out of the common way that it is a wonderful relief to see the one person with whom I can say anything I like.”

  “Your cheeks are so pink,” Ruth said and sounded a little concerned. “My dear, you look so warm. Are you unwell?”

  “No, I am not unwell at all, Ruth,” Charlotte said and was keen to get to the main point of their meeting. “Although I suppose I am a little excited and agitated.”

  “Whatever for?”

  “Here, read this. I received it this morning at the breakfast table and could hardly eat anything for my excitement.” Charlotte handed Ruth the note, and she immediately began to read it aloud.

  “My dear Miss Cunningham,

  I am currently staying at Hanover Hall and would be very pleased if you would consent to meet me this afternoon for just half an hour so that we might enjoy a walk. I shall be on the edge of Wolverton woods at one o’clock this afternoon at the gated entrance on the north side.

  I am in hopes of seeing you there at that time,

  Fondest regards,

  James Harrington.”

  When Ruth had finished reading it out, she was silent for a few moments as she re-read it again to herself. Then, when she was finished, she looked up at Charlotte excitedly.

  “Did I not say it, Miss? Did I not tell you that Lord Harrington only makes his way over here so often now so that he might find himself in your company? Well, here is the proof of it. He wants to meet you and walk with you. Goodness me, this is exciting,” Ruth spoke in a flurry of words which seemed almost to be tripping over themselves to make their way out of the mouth.

  “Yes, I think you are right. I am finally beginning to see that Lord Harrington really does seek me out.”

  “Could you truly not see it before?” Ruth looked at her quizzically.

  “I think I could see it, but I was not sure I could trust it. I think I have been a little concerned that Lord Harrington’s interest is nothing more than his determination to win a little competition that is set between us.”

  “There is not really a competition between you; it was just how things began,” Ruth said sensibly.

  “I still have my concerns that the Duke’s son might only be interested in winning.”

  “Winning what?”

  “Winning my heart perhaps,” Charlotte said uncertainly. “I mean, if he truly is as I suspected he might be in the beginning, then he is a man who is not used to
people, particularly young ladies, making things difficult for him. I am worried that if I show any feelings towards him, that might be enough to have him crown himself the victor and walk away. Does that make any sense?”

  “The sentiment makes sense; I understand it perfectly,” Ruth said quietly. “But used in terms of Lord Harrington, from everything you have so far told me about your encounters, I could not agree that it makes sense. I do not think it is an idea that at all tends towards his character. But still, I understand your fears, Miss.”

  “You always make me feel better, Ruth. Really, anybody would think that you were the older of the two of us, not I.” Charlotte quickly crossed the room to the window where Ruth was still occasionally studying James Harrington’s letter by the light of the window.

  “So, are you going to meet him?” Ruth smiled as Charlotte took her hand. “Please say that you are going to; I could not bear it if you did not.”

  “Yes, yes. I am going to meet him. But do you think I should tell Papa?”

  “Well, I do not think your father would have any particularly strong feeling on the matter,” Ruth said thoughtfully. “But if you do mention it to him, then he is going to insist that I go along with you as a chaperone.”

  “Yes, perhaps that would be a good thing.”

  “I am not sure that you really need a chaperone,” Ruth said gently. “And it is hardly conducive to open conversation, is it? As much as I would like to be there and witness the romantic moments for myself, I do not think my presence would do anything other than upend the idea of romantic moments in the first place.”

  “Then you think I should meet him alone?”

  “Just think of it differently,” Ruth said in such a definite tone that Charlotte already felt confident in whatever plans she might be about to give. “Just imagine that you had gone out this afternoon for a walk to Wolverton woods and you had, by chance, happened upon Lord James Harrington. In those circumstances, it would be perfectly acceptable for you to have some sort of conversation with him and even to walk from one place to the other in one another’s company, assuming you are both going in the same direction. There would be nobody who would find anything to pass comment about in such a scenario.”

  “You really are very clever, Ruth,” Charlotte said. “But I have the note.”

  “You do, but there are only three people who know of the existence of the note; you, Lord Harrington, and me. There is no benefit in any of the parties revealing its existence, so I think you can be satisfied that half an hour of conversation walking with Lord Harrington is perfectly proper.”

  “Right, then that is solved,” Charlotte said firmly. “Now, what ought I to wear?” She smiled brightly at her maid.

  In the end, Ruth had helped her dress in a dark blue well-fitting but practical gown that she often wore for walking, so as not to draw her father’s suspicion.

  The gown suited her very well, and its darkness always made her skin look light and bright. She wore a light spencer jacket to match, and her gloves and bonnet were also of the same shade.

  The overall effect was of a smart walking outfit, something that was attractive and pleasing.

  For the first time in their acquaintance, Charlotte felt a little nervous as she walked the short distance from Thurlow Manor to Wolverton woods.

  She supposed it was because whenever they had previously met, James Harrington had come suddenly upon her, and nothing had been arranged between them. But now she was expecting to see him, making her way to the woods for just that purpose, her nerves had begun to unsettle her. Still, she would do her very best not to let it show.

  “Good afternoon, Miss Cunningham.” As she made her approach to the gate on the north side of the woods, Charlotte could see that James Harrington was already there. He was on the other side of the gate and leaning on it, smiling broadly, and he seemed to look more handsome than ever.

  He was wearing dark cream breaches and black boots with a tailcoat and waistcoat in a dull shade of green which actually suited him very well. As she reached him, she realized that the colour made the most of his beautiful green eyes.

  “Good afternoon, Lord Harrington.” She smiled and inclined her head politely.

  He opened the gate without a word and ushered her through before turning them both onto the main pathway through the woods. There were many other smaller pathways, and his intention to walk with her on a very open pathway where they might easily be seen by other walkers was quite a bold move, somewhat courageous perhaps.

  Also, she thought it rather gentlemanly, for he was making it clear that he had no darker purpose for meeting her there without a chaperone.

  He held out his arm for her to take, and she did so readily before they set off through the trees.

  “I must admit, I did not think you would come,” he said and smiled his handsome smile at her.

  “And why did you think that, Lord Harrington?”

  “Because I suppose it was a little forthright of me to ask you in the first place, especially when we have only been in one another’s company on a few occasions. But really because I am never quite sure if you like me or not.”

  “And why are you never quite sure if I like you or not? Am I not perfectly friendly?” Charlotte was pleased that they were already on their old, bantering footing.

  Something about fast and clever conversation gave her confidence, or at least it settled the nerves she had felt when she had been in a more romantic frame of mind.

  “Yes, you are perfectly friendly,” he said slowly and thoughtfully. “But friendliness is not always a sign of liking, is it?”

  “No more it is, Sir,” she said and laughed. “In truth, I am extremely friendly with any number of people I do not like very much.”

  “And am I one of them?”

  “I think you know that you are not, Lord Harrington. After all, I would not be here if I did not like your company, would I?” Charlotte realized that her declaration was, perhaps, a little too honest, and she wished for a few moments that she could take it back.

  “Well, I am very pleased to hear that,” he said lightly. “Because I am bound to tell you that I like you very much indeed, Miss Cunningham. And I have liked you from the moment we met.”

  “By met, do you mean the staring competition, or perhaps when we were out riding at the back of the pack?”

  “Both, and you are playing with me,” he said and laughed. “But then I think you play with me all the time, do you not?”

  “I hardly know what you mean, Lord Harrington,” she said with as much innocence as she could muster.

  “Yes, you do.” He laughed and patted her hand as it lay lightly on his upper arm. “And I do not mind it at all; in fact, I like it. As long as I am still able to tell you what I truly feel underneath all the witty swordplay of our conversations.”

  “I would not wish to silence you if you had something you wished to say,” Charlotte said and felt the tiny stab of nervousness again.

  It seemed that whenever her thoughts, or their conversation, drifted away from their amusingly confrontational stance, Charlotte felt herself just out of her depth.

  “Then I shall repeat that I do like you very much, Miss Cunningham. And I should also say that I will do whatever I can to find myself in the east of the county as often as possible. And if you do not mind me following you from place to place, I should like to see you on every occasion.”

  “You need not follow me from place to place; you may visit me at home,” she said and laughed.

  “Your father knows of my interest in you?” he said quizzically.

  “No, not currently, but he would have no particular opinion on the matter. He would simply make you welcome in our home if you were to call upon us. And he is a man who wanders off with almost frightening regularity, so if you were to come to tea, there would still be great opportunities for what you might like to call fatherless conversation.”

  “I really do think I like your father better and
better the more I hear of him.” He smiled so genuinely that she knew he meant it, and she was glad to hear that he already liked her father.

  “Well, that is settled then. You may call upon us anytime you wish, for my father and I do not receive so many visitors.”

  “I had hardly known what to expect from this meeting of ours, Miss Cunningham. If I may be honest with you, I wondered if you might meet me here simply as a means of furthering some little contest between us. But I can see that you have not, and I am very glad of it.”

  “Oh, dear me,” Charlotte said and began to laugh. “If I am honest with you, Lord Harrington, that was exactly what I had thought myself. I had, albeit momentarily, suspected that this might be part of some game of your own.”