Page 40 of The Undesirable Duke
“I am not the one who was impertinent, Mother.”
Lady Welsford turned to Lillian and pointed angrily at her.
“You are to never go anywhere near the Duke of Yarmouth again, Lillian. Is that clear?”
Lillian’s jaw dropped, and she was shocked that her mother would behave in such a manner.
“But why, Mother? The Duke did not do the things that people think he did. He is not the man the article portrays. He is-”
“I do not care, Lillian. You will do as I say. It is imperative that you find a good match to ensure the ongoing reputation of our family. Lord Bertram is that match, not the Duke,” Lady Welsford hissed.
Lillian stared angrily at her mother and threw her hands in the air.
“I do not understand, Mother. You wish me to be betrothed to a Marquess, while the Duke is of higher rank. What is better than a Duke? Should I rather seek out the affections of a Prince?”
Lillian did not allow her mother to answer as she turned on her heel and stormed off, leaving the room. She very much wished to climb back into their carriage and return home, as the night was certainly over for her, from that moment on. She would seek her evening cloak from the footmen at the front door, and she was certain that her mother would find her there, and quite quickly. Whether she would be allowed to leave the ball or not, she needed this few moments’ respite from her mother’s controlling manner.
Chapter Thirteen
Aloud sigh escaped Samuel’s throat, and his brow furrowed, creating deep lines on his forehead.
His study was quiet and peaceful, precisely how he preferred it. Unfortunately, his mind was not peaceful. The turmoil inside him was alarmingly loud, and he could not shake the feeling of dread. Not only had he not been able to find the writer of the article which had shamed him for being a gambler who was in financial ruin, but he had also realized that he might be beginning to develop feelings for Lady Lillian.
At Lady Montague’s ball last evening, he had found comfort in her presence. They had shared a few moments of amusement; he had made her laugh, and he had very much enjoyed their spirited dance. Lady Lillian was a lovely young lady whose smile was radiant, and her presence made Samuel feel safe. That was a rather odd thing for him to feel. Usually, he would be the one who would help someone feel safe, but as he was shunned more and more by the members of theton, she was the only one, apart from her brother, who did not turn her back on him.
Last evening, he had managed to find Lord Timothy amongst the guests after Lady Welsford had dragged Lady Lillian away,but he did not say much. They did not speak of the scene that Lady Welsford had made, despite her feeble attempts to go unnoticed. The guests, by contrast, had noticed it, and they were eager to gossip about it, pointing the finger undoubtedly at Samuel as somehow responsible for everything.
Samuel grumbled to himself as he reached for a pencil, which he often sketched with. A sheet of paper lay bare on his desk, and he began to draw.
As his mind began to wander back to Lady Lillian, his brow furrowed. Thinking of Lady Lillian was not ideal, since it seemed that she was practically betrothed to Lord Bertram. But Lady Lillian had been rather hesitant last evening, whenever Lord Bertram’s name was mentioned. It was as though she was not certain of the match, and Samuel found that realization filled him with relief. He was not certain why, but he did not wish Lady Lillian to marry Lord Bertram. He was not properly acquainted with Lord Bertram, although he did remember him from university. The man had not been quite as sturdy back then as he was now - the years had been kind to him, physically, and in the fact that he had inherited his father’s fortune and was doing well for himself.
Samuel certainly did not have a problem with him, but he could not help but feel envious of him. As he had come to know Lady Lillian, he had realized that, despite his vow to himself not to marry, at least not in anything like the near future, he was unable to stop himself from thinking of Lady Lillian.
As a matter of fact, he had to admit to himself that he had begun developing feelings for the lovely and lively golden-haired woman who lifted his spirits and offered her assistance to restore his reputation.
As he lowered his gaze, he was surprised by the sketch on the page in front of him. He had been so deep in thought that he had not paid any attention to what he was sketching. Yet, aperfect sketch of Lady Lillian’s beautiful face graced the page in front of him. It was easy to sketch her from memory, as every line and every tiny feature of her face was etched in his mind. An unforgettable vision of beauty that called out to him, and that he was unable to ignore.
Samuel stared at the sketch, feeling rather unsettled that Lady Lillian’s face was the first thing he had sketched in a very long while. She must have made a much bigger impact on him than he had initially thought. After all, she had willingly spent time with him at the ball, even if it was at the risk of ruining her family and her reputation. Not only was she painfully beautiful, but she was also selfless in that regard.
Samuel reached for the silver bell on his desk and rang it, its shrill sound piercing through the silence.
Within a short while, his butler entered the study and quietly approached the desk.
“Your Grace.”
“Have you ever been in love, Billings?”
“I cannot say that I have, Your Grace. Love is a fickle thing.”
“Indeed,” Samuel agreed and leaned back in his leather-bound chair. “Count yourself lucky that you have not. It is a type of pain which I do not recommend to anyone.”
“Is Your Grace well?” Billings’s brow furrowed, and Samuel shook his head.
“Oh, do not mind me. I am merely thinking aloud. Call for my carriage. I wish to visit Lord Timothy Colborne at Welsford House.”
“Right away, Your Grace,” Billings nodded and swiftly left the study.
Within fifteen minutes, his carriage was ready, and, as he settled into the seat, he patted his coat pocket, where the sketch of Lady Lillian was folded and tucked away, his heart poundingin his chest. Perhaps he could gift it to her, as he was certain that she would appreciate it much more than an expensive brooch.
