Advised of the Duke of Midland’s imminent arrival by a tall footman, who rode in advance of the ducal retinue, the earl, his mother, his ward and Charlotte awaited him in the entrance hall.
Saunton looked around. No need, for me to be ashamed of either the linen-fold panelling from which every cobweb has been banished, my coat of arms above a fireplace large enough to roast an ox, or banners and various weapons, wielded by my ancestors, that hang on the walls.
Fletcher opened the front door. Outside footmen had lined up on either side of it. A team of six chestnuts harnessed to a coach approached. It halted. One of the footmen sprang down from it opened the door and lowered the steps for his master to descend.
“His Grace, Duke of Midland,” Fletcher announced.
Midland strode into the hall. Saunton bowed. “Welcome to Longwood Place, Your Grace.” His mother, Charlotte and Miss Carstairs sank into deep curtsies.
Magnificent in a drab, many caped great coat which swirled around his ankles, Midland stepped towards them. He offered Hortense his arm to help her rise. “My lady, may I compliment you on both of your beautiful daughters?”
“Your Grace, the lady on my left is my son’s ward, Miss Carstairs, my daughter, Lady Charlotte is on my right.” Hortense said, somewhat flustered by his error.
Saunton suspected his mother feared the duke would be drawn to his ward instead of Charlotte. He choked back a chuckle.
“The heiress!” a quiet voice exclaimed from the landing above the entrance hall.
Furious, Saunton glimpsed Margaret. He hoped the duke, who inclined his head towards Miss Carstairs, had not heard his sister. Only a twitch of his mother’s eyebrows and her rigid jaw indicated she had also heard. He tilted his head towards the gallery. He scowled with the hope it would warn Margaret not to make another comment.
Charlotte curtsied again. “Your Grace, it is an honour to make your acquaintance.”
The duke proffered his arm. Charlotte put her hand on it, stood and gazed at him. Her fingers remained where they were for longer than necessary. Saunton smiled. It seemed his sister approved of the young nobleman, with a fine figure revealed by the open front of his great coat.
Saunton considered Midland. Many gentleman of fashion, including his guest, practised boxing and fencing, rode every day, hunted and frequented the ballroom, where dances were excellent exercise. All of these activities kept them in good form.
“The duke’s very handsome, I wonder if Charlotte will catch him,” came another remark from the gallery.
This time, Midland gazed up, his vivid green eyes curious in his oval face. “My thanks for the compliment from my unknown admirer but remember I might be the one to catch the lady if you and I play a game of hide and seek with her.”
“Your Grace, I regret my sister, Lady Margaret, has yet to learn her manners,” Saunton said in a level tone hard put to leash his anger. “Margaret, you may join us and make your curtsy.”
A startled cry followed the thud of slippers on the highly polished wooden tread. Margaret tumbled from the top to the bottom of the stairs. She landed on her back and lay motionless.
“My poor child! Speak to me,” Hortense cried out. “Dear God, Saunton, is she…could she be -?” she began when Margaret did not reply. She tottered across the hall and sank onto a chair as though her legs would not support her.
Followed by Amelia, Saunton and Charlotte ran towards their sister. She knelt by her side. Tears streamed down her cheeks. “Are you badly hurt, sweetheart? Oh, Saunton, surely she has not broken her neck?”
Fear gripped him. “No…no of course not.” Even while he reassured Charlotte he hoped Margaret lived. He and the duke stepped towards her.
The hem of His Grace’s greatcoat swirled across one of the shabby oriental carpets laid over the floorboards as he rushed to kneel opposite Charlotte. Midland searched for a pulse in Margaret’s wrist. He smiled and looked across the prostrate girl at Charlotte. “Don’t be alarmed. Your sister is breathing. Let us hope her injury is slight.”
“Thank God!” she and her mother exclaimed simultaneously.
Miss Carstairs held out a tiny gold-chased vinaigrette. “My late grandmother always insisted I should have this near at hand.”
Charlotte took it removed the stopper and applied the pungent smelling salts beneath Margaret’s nose. Hortense clutched the arms of her chair and forced herself to her feet. “Saunton, carry my dear child to her bedchamber,” she ordered, her voice choked with sobs.
A veteran of many battles, familiar with injuries, Saunton shook his head. “Not yet. We must wait for her to come to her senses. In the meantime, I must find out if she has broken any bones.” Margaret stirred. “Midland, Charlotte, please move away to give me room to examine her.”
Saunton stood by Margaret’s head, his anger dissipated by fear and guilt. If he had not banished his sister to the schoolroom, she would have been with them to greet the duke.
While he examined each of her limbs and straightened them his mother staggered forward. “Please speak to me, Margaret. Saunton, tell me she has neither sustained a fatal injury nor one which will cripple her.”
“Calm yourself, ma’am,” Miss Carstairs said. “When Margaret recovers her senses, she will be alarmed if she sees you distraught.”
Side by side, Charlotte and Midland gazed at each other.
“Your Grace,” she looked down. “My sister has paid the price for her impertinence. I hope you will forgive her.”
The duke smiled. “My twin sister and I were pardoned on many occasions when we tried everyone’s patience, so, I have already forgiven her.”
About to examine Margaret’s head, Saunton glanced at them and saw Charlotte peep up at the duke, who still stood too close to her his head bent towards her.
Margaret’s eyes flickered open. She blinked. “My head hurts. What happened? Did I fall down the stairs?”
Relief coupled with a wave of tenderness swept through Saunton. “Yes, you did. I fear the bump on the back of your head will be very painful. We must send for the doctor.”
“Are you very angry with me?”
He ignored her question, stood and picked her up. “To your bedchamber, you wretched chit.” He kissed the top of her head.
Hortense wiped her eyes on a handkerchief. “Miss Carstairs, I am overcome. Quite overcome. May I borrow your smelling salts again?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Amelia handed her the vinaigrette. “With your permission I shall help you upstairs to Margaret’s bedchamber.”
“Dear child,” Hortense murmured as though she offered her the highest accolade.
* * *
Midland removed his greatcoat and handed it to a footman.
“Lady Charlotte, may we snatch a moment’s privacy?” he asked in a low tone aware of the butler and two footmen’s presence. Without allowing her a second to refuse, he cupped her elbow and guided her through a door.
“Your Grace,” Lady Charlotte protested, although she did not appear alarmed. “You are outrageous.” She looked around the ill-furnished ante-room. “I should not be alone with you,” she said but did not seem discomposed.
“I know, but I needed privacy to express how much I admire you.”
Her grey eyes fringed with incredibly long lashes stared at him.
“Admire?”
“Yes, you neither indulged in histrionics nor stood by idly after your sister tumbled down the stairs.”
Lady Charlotte trembled. “I will never forget the horror I experienced when I feared Margaret might be dead.”
“My poor girl.” Careless of convention, he captured her hands. “And I have never forgotten the dreadful moment when I assumed my twin sister died. She is a bruising rider but when her horse shied at a hedge during a fox hunt she lost her seat on the saddle and thudded onto the ground.”
Her ladyship’s surprisingly strong fingers clung to his. “Was she injured?”
“No, only senseless for a few minutes and badly bruised.”
“You have my sympathy.”
“Ah, you understand.” He raised her hand to his mouth and kissed the back of it.
In response to his shocking breach of the convention that dictated gentlemen should not kiss unmarried ladies’ hands, Lady Charlotte stepped backward. “You must agree you deserve a rap over the knuckles.”
“My dear Lady Charlotte, your reprimand casts me into despair. How shall I ever gain your forgiveness. Please-”
Laughter interrupted him. “My lord duke, you should be on the stage.”
A pleasant change to be in the company of a lady not overawed by his title. One who did not try to engage his interest.
A crease formed between her arched eyebrows. “I have not thanked you for-”
“Lady Charlotte, if you are about to express gratitude for my intervention when, in his cups, your father wagered your hand in marriage, there is no need.”
“You are gallant, my lord, but-”
“And you are gracious, my lady.”
“I should retire to my bedchamber. It is inexcusable of me to have been at Longwood Place for so long without washing off the dirt from my journey.” He looked down at the damp, soiled knees of his fawn pantaloons. “I shall be in disgrace with my valet.”
“I hope you are not one of those gentlemen who think of little other than their appearance.”
He chuckled. “I confess I have not the heart to disappoint my valet.”
“You have a heart?”
“If I do, would you believe me if I said it only beats for you.”
“No.” She glanced at the grandfather clock. “Please join us in the large drawing room. Luncheon will be served in the dining room at two o’clock. “Her smile resembled the sunshine that pierced the clouds which cursed the land this year. “I warn you, if the meal is delayed, the countess becomes peevish.”
“The mere idea of incurring her ladyship’s displeasure makes me shake in my boots. It is quarter past one. I must hurry if I am not to displease her ladyship.”
Charlotte’s musical laughter rang out. The sound tugged at his heartstrings. Steady, Saunton will challenge me to pistols at dawn if I toy with her ladyship’s affections.
“Your Grace, please pardon me.”
“For what?”
“I could not help laughing when I imagined you trembling in your splendid boots.”
Those long-lashed large eyes which stared at him with a hint of apprehension were remarkably beautiful. “There is nothing to forgive.” Midland bowed. “Please excuse me, my valet awaits.” He paused by the door.” Let us hope all will be well with Lady Margaret.”
“Thank you, my lord.”
The purpose of his visit, to assure himself a delicately reared lady recovered from the impropriety of her late father’s wager fulfilled, he relaxed.
Without conceit, he knew a wealthy duke, whose ancestry stretched back through the ages, would be a matrimonial prize. If the countess did not want Lady Charlotte to snare him she would be an unnatural mother. He decided to divide his attention between Lady Charlotte and Miss Carstairs, his host’s ward, whose fortune unfortunately derived from trade. However, he must be cautious for he did not wish to rouse hope false hopes in either lady.
The duke whistled low. He should not have flirted with Lady Charlotte who made no attempt to lure him. If he wished to further his acquaintance with the charming young lady he must exercise caution, but whatever he decided he must be wary of her mother. Midland suspected steel hard determination lay behind her façade.
* * *
After much discussion, most of it instigated by the countess, who assured everyone Lady Margaret suffered no ill-effects from her fall apart from a headache, Midland confirmed he knew how to skate.
Pleased, her ladyship arranged for him to accompany Saunton, Lady Charlotte, two of her younger sisters, their governess and Miss Carstairs to the lake. “I shall dress in warm clothes and observe you from the sleigh.” Her voice implied she could make no greater sacrifice than watching over her ‘dearest ones’.
* * *
Midland faced Miss Carstairs, who sat on a marble seat, adjacent to the shore, “I would be honoured if you allow me to escort you onto the ice.”
Her glance flickered towards Saunton, who helped Lady Elizabeth and Lady Diana onto the ice. “No thank you, Your Grace, I don’t know how to skate.”
“But you are wearing skates.” Before she could say that Saunton said he would teach her, the duke clasped her elbows and drew her to her feet. “It will be my pleasure to instruct you. Come.”
Miss Carstairs’ gloved hand trembled in his. She hesitated then wobbled off the shore onto ice which glistened beneath a pale blue sky ornamented with banks of fat white clouds. Before she could baulk like a horse at a fence, he put his arm around her slender waist. “Don’t be frightened, I shall not allow you to fall. Slide your right foot forward. Good. Bring your left to meet it. On no account lift your feet off the ice.”
Midland gazed down at Miss Carstairs’ face framed by tiny golden curls and a dark grey hood lined with sable. Conscious of being his family’s last male descendant, and that his estates were entailed, he accepted his duty to marry well and father an heir.
If the well-mannered beauty’s fortune came from rich acres of land he might have been tempted to court her. On the other hand, if Lady Charlotte cut herself blue blood might flow.
Miss Carstairs stumbled. She cried out like a startled bird. Midland tightened his hold around her waist. She tensed. “Enough, Your Grace, it is very cold. I want to join her ladyship in the sleigh.”
“Don’t give up so soon. You are an excellent pupil. If we skate faster, you will soon become warmer.” He propelled her forward. “More practice and you will be able to manage without support,” he encouraged her. “Admit you are beginning to enjoy it.”
“Y…yes, I am, but I don’t know what Mrs Bettismore, my late grandmother, would say if she could see me.”
“I think she would be proud of you.”
“I doubt it; she preferred me to embroider, play the pianoforte or amuse myself with some other ladylike accomplishment.”
Midland roared with laughter. “My sister would pity you. She prefers to ride, to hunt, and practice archery in the hope her arrows will hit the bullseye. My aunt, who brought us up after our parents died, often despaired and called her a hoyden and blamed me for encouraging her. My uncle predicted my sister would never find a husband, but she did and is very happy.”
“Did you encourage her?”
“We still enjoy those pursuits and-.” He broke off when Saunton skated up to her, the expression on his face hard by winter’s clear light when he looked at them.
“Midland, Miss Carstairs, it is time to return to the house. It will be dusk, soon. Besides the air has become frigid. I don’t care to keep the horses waiting any longer.”
Not only was the air frigid when they gathered in the small drawing room to enjoy hot mince pies served with a choice of coffee, tea or chocolate to warm them, each time the countess looked at him or Miss Carstairs her glacial expression almost unnerved him.
Midland compared his hostess to a fierce tabby cat with ruffled fur and set about soothing her. He complimented her on the attractive glow on her face due to fresh air, vowed she must have been more beautiful in her youth than Lady Charlotte and told her how well half-mourning suited her. Enough, if he continued the countess would sheathe her claws and purr.
“Another mince pie, Your Grace,” Charlotte suggested.
He looked at her across the table into eyes filled with laughter. Dash it all, the minx knew he set out to placate her mother with compliments.
“Thank you.” He served himself from a plate in the centre of the linen tablecloth. “May I say it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
A contented sigh escaped the countess, who sat next to him. “My dearest Charlotte is a treasure anyone would be delighted to meet. In April, she will go to London where I hope you will call on us.”
“I look forward to it, Countess.” About to add a fulsome compliment, he changed his mind when he noticed the fascinated expression in Lady Charlotte’s eyes. “Saunton, how is Lady Margaret?”
“My sister has strong bones. Charlotte assures me Margaret’s sore head does not prevent her from enjoying the broth, the jelly and ice cream cook made for her,” Saunton said, drily.
“Yes, but she frets because she cannot perform in the play before dinner.” Her glance at the duke mischievous, Lady Charlotte continued. “I cannot ask His Grace to take her part but, if she would be so good, Miss Carstairs might oblige.”
“Oh, no, I cannot, my grandmamma would not have approved of my appearance on the stage,” the heiress protested without a second’s pause. “Charlotte, could you not play the part?”
“No, I already have one.”
“Miss Carstairs, no need to be nervous,” Lady Hortense tried to reassure her. “I doubt the sainted Mrs Bettismore would have objected to you acting not on a public stage but in front of a small, select audience in a private house. To set your mind at rest, my chaplain does not disapprove of such performances.”
“Yes, of course you are right, ma’am. How foolish and disobliging of me. If there are not too many lines to learn I will take Margaret’s part.”
“There is little for you to say,” Charlotte encouraged her, “and the play will be ruined without someone to play the part of the Virgin Mary.”
“Your Grace, please don’t feel obliged to attend,” Lady Hortense said.
“I am sure I shall enjoy it. When we were young, my sister, my cousins and I entertained guests with recitations, songs and charades.” He grinned. “I always looked forward to returning home from school to my aunt and uncle for the vacations.”
“We have something in common, Your Grace,” Amelia said. “I am also an orphan.”
“A mince pie, my ward?” Saunton suggested his voice very gentle, his dark eyes soft.