Page 33 of The Lady's Guide to Well-Endowed Dukes
“Don’t let them do that.” Reaching across, Rockley squeezed her hand. “You’re being brave, standing up for what you truly want. You’d be surprised how many people don’t.”
Himself for one, although he was going to do something about that.
Miss Maitland sniffed. “If I’d known you’d be so nice about it, I’d have told you sooner. We’ve rather been wasting time, haven’t we; and time is a precious thing.”
“It is.” A curious lightness had come upon him. The weight of worry had been lifted, though it hadn’t come about at all as he’d been expecting.
However, there was something he still needed to say, if he was to resolve the situation in a worthy way.
“I can’t let you bear the brunt of your parents’ disappointment, nor face wider censure for having thrown away what Society will view as a desirable match. You must let me intercede.”
She blinked, waiting for him to go on.
“We may say that I am the one in love with someone else, and the breaking of the contract is entirely at my door. I shall pay all expenses and settle a large sum upon you—enough that you shall be independent, regardless of how your parents reactto the news. The sum will enable you to live however you should like, and with whomever”—he held her gaze—“regardless of there being a marriage between you. You will need to continue being brave, but if the person you love feels the same way, you may conquer anything together. It may mean making your home somewhere quietly—on foreign shores, if that appeals—but you’ll find a place in which to claim the happiness you deserve.”
The way Miss Maitland threw her arms around his neck, her parents had quite the wrong idea, upon their return. It was up to Rockley, however, to explain things as they really were.
As he’d known, and Miss Maitland had herself, there were tears, but there was also the hope of much better things to come.
He would call upon Mrs. Bongorge in the morning and leave her in no doubt of his devotion. If she had no love for him, he would walk away, as he must—but he’d be damned if he’d do so without laying every last one of his cards on the table. There was nothing to lose and so very much to gain.
One thing he vowed: the woman he desired as his duchess would be in no doubt of his true feelings.
CHAPTER 12
Yardmore Court, Hampshire
Near midnight, December 24th, 1905
With the gatesof Yardmore Court at last in view, Rockley sent up a prayer of thanks. It had been a hideous journey, with a blizzard descending some ten miles back. His driver had advocated for them pulling in at the nearest coaching inn, but Rockley had promised generous compensation for his efforts, and they’d pushed through.
Of course, he ought to have taken the railway, as Estela had done—or so her butler had told him, on Rockley having bowled up at her Mayfair residence. The ducal emblem on his carriage had ensured him being appraised of the location of Yardmore Court forthwith.
He was hardly presenting himself as he would have liked, after almost twelve hours of bone-rattling travel. He only hoped his rather disheveled appearance wasn’t too noticeable—for, if he was successful in his suit, he anticipated a formal meeting with Yardmore and the rest of Estela’s family.
As it was, he was turning up at the Viscount’s home uninvited, hoping that his name alone would ensure some degree of welcome. To his relief, many of the windows along the porticoed facade were lit warmly and, even outside, the sound of music was audible.
A party no less!
Which would suit his purpose just fine.
The door opened as Rockley was mounting the steps, with the butler taking his coat and hat, before directing his coachman to where the poor man—not to mention their horses—would have a chance for proper rest.
“Will you go through to the ballroom, Your Grace, or should I announce you more privately to His Lordship?”
One couldn’t fault a butler for having a keen eye as to the provenance of a coach!
“It’s the Duke of Pembridge, but—” Rockley assumed a confidential manner—“while I anticipate speaking with Lord Yardmore in due course, I’m rather hoping to surprise another member of the family tonight. I don’t suppose you’ve noticed the whereabouts of his sister, Mrs. Bongorge, this evening?”
Rockley could only hope she hadn’t retired early; he wasn’t above sneaking up the stairs to accost her in her boudoir, but he could hardly locate her chamber in a house of this size without persuading one of the servants to assist him. It wouldn’t be the best way to begin his introduction to the family.
“I believe the lady is taking a respite from the dancing at present, and can be found in the conservatory, Your Grace.” The butler, to his credit, didn’t blink an eye at Rockley’s unusual request. “Follow me, if you please.”
They passed through several connecting rooms until they emerged into a space which appeared to span a large portion of the southern end of the house. A glass vaulted ceiling stretchedloftily above. On silent feet, the butler retreated, leaving Rockley to wander onwards.
Beyond the vast, dark windows, the snow glowed a dull white, stretching off across blanketed lawns. Flakes drifted thick, attaching themselves to the edges of the panes.
After a moment, her voice carried to him from the far end, though he caught only a fraction of the actual words as he drew closer.
