‘Two whole days with those smug Moorcrofts! No, I don’t think I can bear it...’ grumbled Marina’s mother with a heavy sigh, followed shortly by slapping her hands together decisively. ‘Colin, I think we should go home—say I am ill or something. I know it is an excellent opportunity. But honestly, it would be better for your practice if we did not go!’
Marina brightened at the prospect. ‘I would not mind going home. I have a new melody I wish to practise.’ Which was true, but there were other reasons, too—uncomfortable reasons.
Her father shook his head, and both women gave a miserable sigh. Most people would have been thrilled to receive a house party invitation from the Duchess of Framlingham. They would consider it a great honour to stay at the palatial mansion owned by such an illustrious hostess, who was loved and admired by the ton, but Marina could not think of anything worse and neither could her mother.
The Moorcrofts spoiled everything!
The rivalry between the two families had been going on for years. Although, until recently it had mainly been one-sided, as Marina’s family had always tried their best to ignore it.
It had all begun when her father, the son of a common bricklayer, had dared to not only set up his own architectural practice, but had—more importantly—succeeded at it, winning many contracts that Mr Moorcroft had wrongly presumed were his by right, because, unlike Marina’s father, Mr Moorcroft was the son and grandson of celebrated architects.
It wouldn’t have been so bad, if it had been confined to their professional lives. But the whole family seemed to take delight in trying to wage a war of their own making.
Herbert and Priscilla Moorcroft were a similar age to Marina and her brother Frederick. They might have been friends, if the Moorcrofts hadn’t been so determined to prove they were better than them in every way, sometimes deliberately humiliating or embarrassing them in public to prove their point.
Marina had not cared about it until her most recent humiliation. Still, she should pity poor Frederick more. He had always struggled socially, and was now stuck with Horrible Herbert at school.
‘Oh, but, Colin, it is not as if they will accept us anyway. Not after the Moorcrofts have got their hooks into them. Which is a pity. But don’t you think it is better to cut our losses and run? Rather than face two days of torment for no good reason?’
Her mother’s lament was made somehow worse by the sudden jostle of the hackney carriage, which sent her plump mother sprawling into her father’s lap. Marina had to grab her own seat and thrust her silk slippers against the opposite bench to stop herself from falling to the floor.
Colin Fletcher, with his usual calm and methodical manner, gently pushed her mother back into her seat, taking a moment to squeeze her hand lightly before releasing it. ‘Kitty, my dear, do stop worrying, all will be well!’ He gave Marina a sympathetic smile, and she tried her best to return it. ‘We will meet with His Grace and the Duchess. They will be the ones to decide who will redesign their ancestral home—not I and certainly not the Moorcrofts.’ Then he turned to thump the side of the carriage with his large fist and shouted in an authoritative voice that Marina had only ever heard on building sites, ‘I will give you an extra shilling if you slow down!’
There was no response from their driver, but Marina noticed the carriage gentled to a less terrifying speed. The Duchess’s grand home was situated in Twickenham and overlooked the Thames. It was on the north side of the river, so they hadn’t had to cross at London Bridge, but it had still taken longer than expected to slip through the swathes of travellers coming in for their evening’s entertainment. They must have seemed like a fish fighting against the current as they made their way towards the Duchess’s fashionable hideaway on the outskirts of town.
The Duchess’s end-of-Season ball was legendary among the ton. She was well known for her extravagant house parties, too, and only the most impressive and fashionable of London’s high society were ever deemed worthy guests. So, for Marina’s family to receive such an honour was incredible and solely due to her father’s success.
The two-day event, according to the gold leaf invitation, would consist of a dinner with entertainments upon arrival. The following night there would be a ball, where the entire ton would hear of the Duke’s exciting plans for his new home.
The Duchess had asked them to stay for two nights so that she could ‘better know the families of such incredibly talented architects’. It was obvious she intended to employ either Marina’s father or his rival, Mr Moorcroft, and that this whole event was a competition, with the winner announced on the night of the ball.
All hope of them avoiding such a spectacle had been quickly snuffed out by her father’s firm refusal. It was a competition between the two best architects in London and Colin was determined to face it head on—despite the awkward history between the two families.
Marina patted her hair self-consciously to check it was all still in place. It was fashioned in an elegant chignon upon her mother’s insistence with curls framing her face. Marina sighed with relief when she realised none of the pins had fallen out after the sudden carriage jolt.
Kitty had not been so lucky. A thick ebony lock had fallen out of place on the side of her head and Marina took a moment to carefully pin it back into place. Her mother gave her a grateful smile when she was done. ‘Thank you, darling.’
They both had mountains of thick black hair that was difficult to tame. Marina took after her mother in face and colouring, with her pale complexion, and bright blue eyes. Her mother was a little plumper than she was, but Kitty claimed that was due to having two healthy babies and a husband who could never refuse cake. Neither of them could be described by society as great beauties, but that did not seem to matter to Colin who clearly adored them both.
‘It’s all a bit tasteless in my opinion. Having you and Mr Moorcroft compete against one another in a social setting! If they want an architect for the remodelling of their ancestral home, then why not request plans like any normal person would? What does it matter if they like us or not?’ complained Marina, avoiding her mother’s eyes—she had spent many days trying to tell Marina the same thing.
‘Who are we to question the aristocracy?’ said her father pointedly.
Kitty pulled her shawl closer around her shoulders primly. ‘We shouldn’t have to waste our time on the eccentric whims of others! Either they want you to work for them or they don’t. I agree with Marina. This is undignified.’
Marina nodded thoughtfully. ‘Still, it is a bit odd that there are so many of us invited to dinner.’ She marked off the names of the guests with her fingers. ‘The Moorcrofts, Lord Clifton and his sister, Miss Clifton... I suppose I can understand them, I believe they are close friends of the family. But the Redgraves, too? They aren’t even architects!’
Her parents exchanged a knowing look, before her father said, ‘I think the Duchess is hopeful to find a match for her son as well as an architect. There have already been a lot of engagements this Season—very few debutantes are left.’
‘So, we are the entertainment.’ Marina groaned, then began to speak as if she were reading from one of the scandal sheets. ‘Which architect will they choose? Place your bets, ladies and gentlemen! Or, if that doesn’t interest you, which young lady will win the hand of the Duke? It is well known that the Duke likes to gamble, but will he gamble with his heart? That is—’
‘None of our business,’ interrupted her father with a stern expression.
Marina gave a light shrug of acceptance. ‘True. Thankfully, it will be the well-bred ladies in that race, not I or Miss Moorcroft, as we are not part of the landed gentry.’
‘But Mrs Moorcroft is an architect, too—of her own social climbing!’ quipped Kitty. ‘Don’t look at me like that, Colin! She was crowing to Mrs Banks about it at tea last week.’ Her mother put on a simpering voice. ‘My Priscilla has already caught the attention of the Duchess of Framlingham and it is barely even the end of her first Season! At this rate, she will be wed before the Princess! After all, she is such a fine beauty!’ She finished with an insidious laugh that sounded like a cat wheezing.
Marina and her father both chuckled at her oddly accurate impression, although her father quickly tried to appear firm. ‘Come now, Kitty. You will get yourself into trouble one of these days!’
But they all knew he would forgive her anything—Kitty had supported and believed in him when no one else had. Part of his great success was due to his constant need to prove her faith in him right.
An outsider might have thought her mother’s criticism of the Moorcrofts as harsh, but Marina knew her mother was only trying to make her feel better about facing Priscilla again.
‘I promise I will be on my best behaviour, my darling husband,’ Kitty replied, before winking at Marina. ‘But I suspect she has high expectations for Priscilla and wants someone like Lord Clifton or even, perhaps, the Duke... Which is laughable—I doubt that man will ever settle down, unless it is to avoid bankruptcy!’
Marina squirmed in her seat, uncomfortable with the subject of marriage.
At the beginning of the Season, she had been hopeful, but after that terrible incident at the Haxbys’ soirée, she feared marriage was not an option for her. At least not a happy one like her parents’ marriage and she wanted nothing less than true love.
Marina had learned in the worst possible way that she wasn’t the type to turn heads or make a man fall madly in love with her—no matter what they might say. Especially not when she was sitting next to women like Priscilla.
After much consideration—and tears—she had decided that the prospect of becoming a spinster no longer frightened her. Family would always come first in her mind. Love, or the lack of it, was only a passing disappointment at best.
Music would be the love of her life. There was no need for her to marry.
It was as if her father had read her mind, because he said kindly, ‘Well, do not feel under pressure to like any man. I would rather keep you at home than hand you over to anyone less deserving of you.’
Marina gave her mother a sharp look, which Kitty pointedly ignored. She had always suspected her mother of telling him about the Haxby incident, even though she’d begged her not to. It certainly explained why he’d never questioned the way in which Mr John Richards had suddenly dropped all interest in courting her.
A cold shiver ran down her spine as she remembered him laughing with Priscilla.
‘Oh, she is nothing in comparison to your beauty, Cousin! But a man needs money to live and don’t worry—I will put a stop to that awful music once we’re wed! Marina the Wallflower Maestro—she is truly ridiculous. If she weren’t so wealthy, I would never have considered her!’
Her father’s apologetic tone cut through the pain of the memory, as he said, ‘I only mean—you have more sense than to set your sights on someone like the Spare Heir Duke.’
Marina flinched at the nickname. She had never met the man, but she thought it very unkind that all of society called him that after his elder brother’s sudden death. After all, she knew what it was like to be mocked and ridiculed behind your back.
‘Oh, that’s so unkind,’ said her mother and both women gave him a reproachful look. ‘It must have been hard for the Duke. I hear he lost his father quite young in a riding accident, and then to lose his much older stepbrother in a similar way... He must have felt as if he had lost two fathers! Such a terrible shame.’
‘Yes, sorry. I only meant to say that he seems unprepared and unwilling to face the responsibility of his dukedom—and I have heard that he’s been quite the cad since returning home from the army. He’s always in gaming dens or other places of ill repute. I will be shocked if this new house ever goes ahead—he spends most of his days in White’s.’
Marina replied, ‘Still, it seems wrong to judge him so harshly on gossip and hearsay...’
Her father nodded thoughtfully. ‘I suppose we will discover the truth for ourselves tonight at dinner.’
At that moment, the carriage came to a standstill outside the Duchess’s mansion and they carefully stepped out on to the drive. The gas lamps illuminated only half of the imposing building, which was grand in the extreme and built in the Palladian style. The white stucco render gleamed like marble in the lamplight and the ornate columns surrounding its classically styled entrance towered above them on top of a large, stepped entrance. Everything in its design reflected the elegance and wealth of its illustrious owner within.
It was an intimidating sight and Marina glanced at her father to see what his professional eye would make of it. To her surprise, he was staring at Marina pleasantly. ‘What do you think? Do you think I could build something better?’
Marina grinned. ‘Certainly!’
‘That’s what I like to hear!’ he said and with a grin he turned to help her mother from the carriage. Footmen poured down the steps and began carrying in their luggage silently. After paying the driver, he nestled each of their arms into his before guiding them up the steps.
They were promptly welcomed and shown into an offensively large drawing room by the butler who was wearing burgundy and gold livery that would have put many of the landed gentry to shame with its elegance. Marina was glad she had worn her best evening gown and she tried to subtly smooth out any creases of her pale blue dress before entering the room.
They were the last of the guests to arrive. The Moorcrofts appeared well settled, as if they’d been there some time—no doubt blown swiftly here by the winds of their own self-importance, mused Marina drily.
As the formal introductions were made, Marina couldn’t help but stare at the Duke. She had never seen any man quite like him: tall, dark, with pale skin and green eyes that reminded her of a predatory cat. He was handsome in a sharp, cold sort of way, the lines of his body dramatic with narrow hips that flared up to impossibly broad shoulders. She had heard he was at Waterloo and could very well imagine him leading the charge to victory, his imposing figure striking fear into the hearts of the enemy.
Cad did not seem a fitting description for him.
Oh, she could well imagine him ruining many girl’s dreams and virtues. But cad implied the sort of dandies who lazed around gentlemen’s clubs writing bad poetry, in the hopes of becoming another Byron. The type of men who only actually succeeded in indulging in too much brandy, cards and debauchery, their heads too muddled by laudanum and increasing debt to be of any use to anyone.
This man did not look muddled, he looked like a demon, the kind that tempted weaker souls into vice and wickedness.
‘What took you so long, Fletcher? Everyone has been here almost quarter of an hour already,’ said Mr Moorcroft, a wide smile that did not reach his eyes spread across his broad face. She had met the others before in passing: the handsome Lord Clifton, his pretty sister Miss Clifton, Lord and Lady Redgrave, Miss Sophia Redgrave and of course the Moorcrofts—minus Horrible Herbert—whom poor Freddie was dealing with even now.
Kenneth Moorcroft was older than Marina’s father by at least ten years, his hair fully grey and patchy in areas. He squinted as if his eyes were poor. His body was an average build for a man in his sixties, but he dressed as if he thought himself a fine figure of a man, no doubt trying to hide the fact that he was much older than his wife, who was more around her parents’ age. He had children from his first marriage, but little was spoken of them. They had been removed from London to live at one of his estates in the country. Only his current children seemed to matter to him now, as if his dead wife and all that she had left behind had been buried without a trace. All so that he could begin again with a fresh family.
Marina disliked him immensely, even more so when she was in his presence.
Her father looked a little embarrassed, but gestured pointedly at the ornate gold clock on the mantel. ‘We are still ten minutes early and I thought it best not to rush our driver.’
‘Quite right,’ said the Duchess. ‘Some of the speeds they drive at are terrifying!’ Marina’s earlier criticism of the Duchess suddenly felt more than a little mean-spirited as the woman in front of her looked younger than she had expected and was light and friendly in manner. Her gown was elaborately embroidered and as bright as a ruby.
‘Did you take a hackney carriage all the way here?’ Mr Moorcroft laughed. ‘You are an eccentric fellow, Fletcher, walking everywhere! I bought a new carriage last week. A lovely post-chaise, comfortable and convenient. They will even paint your coat of arms on the side and at a good price, too—’
Marina rolled her eyes and deliberately ignored the rest of what Mr Moorcroft had to say. It was heavily laboured with self-indulgent peacocking and she could tell her parents were gritting their teeth through every word.
Green eyes caught hers and she realised the Duke was watching her with interest. Usually no one noticed her, so her little gestures would always go unmarked, but not tonight, it seemed. The smallest tilt at one side of his mouth revealed that he knew what she was thinking and found it amusing. Heat swept up her cheeks and she looked away, praying that he would do the same.
‘You can’t put a price on comfort! Especially when you travel around the country as much as we do,’ said Mrs Moorcroft with a sickly-sweet tone, looping her arm into his and gazing up at him with an adoring smile, as if he wasn’t the most odious man on earth. It made Marina’s stomach churn just to watch.
‘Or health,’ added Marina, unable to help herself. ‘Father has always been a firm believer in the benefits of walking for one’s health and happiness.’
The Duchess smiled warmly at Marina. ‘I must agree. I love to walk and ride around our country estate. Anything to get the heart beating! It makes me feel alive!’
Marina nodded—she could well imagine the Moorcrofts boring the Duchess with their talk of connections and travels to all the large country estates, paying less attention to what they had seen and more on the importance of where they had been and how much it had cost them to get there.
‘I have spent most of my life in London, but sometimes we travel to the coast and I think there is nothing more beautiful than where the land meets the sea,’ said Marina.
‘Oh, then you must come to our country estate, Stonecroft Manor. It is the estate we are hoping to modernise,’ said the Duchess, ‘It is beautiful, but very old. I go to sea bathe there each summer. It is not as entertaining as places like Brighton, but it is just as good for the constitution.’
‘What a wonderful idea!’ exclaimed Mrs Moorcroft breathlessly, as if she had suddenly realised she was late to the race. ‘I also love to sea bathe!’
Glancing back at the Duke, Marina saw his smirk had raised itself another quarter of an inch, but his eyes remained fixed on her and she could not look away, no matter how much she knew she should.
It wasn’t so much what the Duchess said next that surprised Marina, but the way in which his mother’s words affected him. ‘Brook loves it there. The hunting is excellent. I should arrange another house party for this summer! In fact, I should probably have my end-of-Season ball there instead of here! That will make a nice change, won’t it, Brook?’
The Duke’s amusement dropped like a stone, and his gaze slid to his mother. ‘If you wish, but I will not be there. You know my plans. Our business is almost settled and I will be leaving to travel the Continent shortly.’
‘Oh, but you have only just left the army and it has been so long since we were at Stonecroft together,’ she replied, with a painfully bright smile that seemed a little forced to Marina. ‘Surely you can delay a little longer? Besides, I have heard the weather on the Continent has been unseasonably bad this year. Better to stay in England and enjoy the beauty of your own home with friends!’
‘I have delayed once already.’ There was a firmness to his tone that made his mother flinch and Marina couldn’t help but pity her. It was obvious she wanted to spend more time with her son.
How could he be so cruel?
The Duchess’s voice was low and quiet. ‘Please, Brook...’
‘Until the end of the Season,’ he snapped, after a moment of hesitation.
When he turned away from his mother, his scowl was thunderous and full of accusation. To Marina’s horror it was focused on her, his eyes narrowing as if he blamed her for his mother’s plans, as if she alone had deliberately engineered this invitation—when she’d never intended it in the first place!
Now, she feared she had made an enemy of the Duke and how would that help her father’s business? Apart from her music, her family’s happiness was the only thing that mattered to her.
Something this Duke could never understand. Look how cruelly he had treated his grieving mother, who wanted nothing more than to spend time with him!
Marina had never met a more offensive or selfish man in her life and for once she was glad she was a wallflower. He would forget her soon enough—all she had to do was suffer a couple of days with him.
Copyright © 2024 by Lucy Morris