Page 1 of Fit for a Duke
Chapter One
‘I can scarce believe he has agreed to come!’ Beth exclaimed, clapping her hands with delight. ‘He never shows himself anywhere. The entiretonhas quite despaired of ever getting the reclusive duke to show his face in society, as is his duty.’
‘Of course he will come, my love,’ Lady Fletcher said, smiling broadly at her daughter. ‘How could he possibly decline my invitation? I am, after all, a close friend of his dear mama’s, and I saw young Lord Ezra, as he was at the time, frequently during his childhood. I watched him grow up, truth to tell. He and his friends ran quite wild and were always getting into scrapes.’ Lady Fletcher smiled at the memory. ‘Such high spirits as ever you could imagine. But then Lord Ezra was permitted more freedom than his elder brothers. As the youngest of three boys, no one ever assumed that he would become the duke.’
‘Why did he? Become the duke, that is, Aunt?’ Clio asked.
‘Well, my love, it was all terribly sad. Freddie, the eldest, was always a sickly child. His birth was a difficult one and he wasn’t expected to survive, but he showed the true Delaney fighting spirit and defied everyone. He was cosseted, of course, because he was never strong. He wasn’t sent away to school and every care was taken with his welfare.’
‘That must have been difficult for him, to be denied the rite of passage that all young gentlemen enjoy, if that is the right way to describe experiencing those brutal bastions of learning,’ Adele said. ‘Mixing with their peers, forging friendships and that sort of thing is important though. Even I can see that.’
‘Riding spirited horses and getting into scrapes is just as important,’ Clio added.
‘I don’t know about that, my dears, but I do know that Lord Freddie understood his duty and was prepared to assume the dukedom when the time came. Sadly it never did.’
‘What happened to the next brother?’ Beth asked. ‘I have never heard anyone refer to it.’ She rolled her eyes mischievously. ‘It’s shrouded in secrecy, as though the family are ashamed of Lord Richard.’
‘Far from it,’ Lady Fletcher replied. ‘The fact of the matter is that Lord Richard died as the result of a silly accident. He had over-imbibed, as young men are wont to do. I cannot say that I approve. No good ever comes of riotous behaviour. However, be that as it may, these things happen. I think he and his friends were indulging in dares that got out of hand and—’
‘What sort of dares?’ Clio and Adele asked together. Their gazes clashed and they burst out laughing, their lively imaginations perfectly attuned.
‘Really, girls, it is no laughing matter. The poor boy lost his life, falling from…well, something.’ She flapped a bejewelled hand. ‘I am not entirely sure of the particulars. Poor Lord Freddie had caught a fever and pre-deceased his father and Lord Richard had become the new Duke of Wickham, that much I do know. He did not assume that exalted position for long though, and Lord Ezra—who considered himself footloose and fancy free and was enjoying that situation immensely—returned from Waterloo, having helped to put that wretched little Frenchman firmly in his place once and for all, and found himself the new duke.’
‘You make that sound like a bad thing, Mama,’ Beth said. ‘It is very sad that both of his brothers died, but surely Lord Ezra—whom I suppose we must now refer to as ‘his grace’—will want to do his duty and uphold his family’s honour.’
‘Oh, I dare say he does my love,’ Lady Fletcher replied, pinching Beth’s cheek, ‘and I am equally sure he will find his burden far easier to bear with the right wife by his side. And once he sees you, the matter will be all but settled, I am absolutely sure of it.’
‘Oh, Mama!’ Beth lowered her eyes and a gentle blush touched her cheeks. ‘It may come to nothing. We had best not get our hopes up only to have them dashed.’
Clio fought the urge to laugh at such an unconvincing display of reticence. But then again, Bethwasa vision and had been praised for her looks and good nature since the cradle. There had never been any question that she would make a spectacular marriage, and Clio accepted that Beth had little to be modest about.
‘His grace holds me in great affection and knows that I shall not permit the matrons to throw their charges at him during the course of my house party.’ Lady Fletcher shook her head, causing her multiple chins to wobble somewhat alarmingly. Clio knew her aunt didn’t consider throwing Beth in the duke’s path as coercion since no one, in her biased opinion, could possibly resist her elder daughter’s charms once they had been brought to his attention. A mother, she never tired of reminding the girls, had a duty in that regard. She insisted that it would save the dear duke from the tedium of trawling through a throng of eligible parties. ‘The poor man deserves to enjoy himself without having to watch his step the entire time.’
‘Besides,’ Adele added with a mischievous smile that she shared with Clio, ‘you are so lovely, Beth, that I dare say the disagreeable duke will take one look at you, fall madly in love and then all his troubles will be over.’
‘I am sure he is anything but disagreeable,’ Lady Fletcher chided, smiling at her younger daughter as she did so. ‘However, I cannot help holding out hope with regard to Beth. Indeed, my love, your sister does not exaggerate. You are indeed so beautiful and so accomplished and biddable and…well, I am sure the duke will be enchanted.’
‘She is fit for a duke in all respects,’ Clio dutifully agreed.
Everything that Lady Fletcher had just said was the truth. She had simply forgotten to add that Beth had difficulty in stringing two intelligible sentences together. Not that it signified. She was so amiable that no one held her lack of intellect against her. Indeed, ladies were not expected to be clever, and girls like Clio who were blessed with enquiring minds and a love of learning were actively discouraged from displaying those traits in front of gentlemen for fear of alarming them. Gentlemen, it was generally agreed, disliked being eclipsed by the weaker sex.
Clio would try very hard over the course of the upcoming party to remember her place and not say anything too intelligent. She had never attended such a splendid event before. The duke’s acceptance, which Lady Fletcher had managed to drop into every conversation she had with her peers, had ensured that everyone else who had received an invitation had accepted, and the huge house would be full to capacity for the first time since her uncle’s death.
The future of the reclusive Duke of Wickham, his appearance, his habits and mannerisms had been endlessly speculated upon by the ladies of the house, as had his need for a wife. Everyone agreed that he had a duty to procreate and could not procrastinate indefinitely in that regard. As a student of human nature, Clio was greatly looking forward to observing his behaviour. She wondered if he was a sensible man, lacking in pride, but suspected that the opposite was more likely to be true. Great men, in her limited experience, were full of self-importance. They were impatient, rude, and rode roughshod over the feelings of others.
‘Well, my dears, there is still so much to do. Beth, the seamstress will be here directly to put the finishing touches to your ballgown. You should make yourself ready for her arrival. Indeed, I shall stay with you, just in case my advice is required. We really ought to order you another walking gown as well, just in case we have rain and your hem gets muddy. It really wouldn’t do to…’
Lady Fletcher’s voice faded as she and Beth walked away, continuing to talk of Beth’s wardrobe. Beth made occasional animated contributions to a subject that held her entire attention almost exclusively.
‘Phew!’ Adele flopped back on the settee she occupied, able to relax her rigid posture now that her mama had left the small salon she and Clio had hidden themselves away in, in the hope of avoiding the perpetual talk of the duke’s imminent arrival. They had failed in that endeavour when first Beth and then Lady Fletcher had tracked them down. ‘I’m sure that the great man will be high in the instep and find fault with everything he sees.’
‘I cannot imagine how anyone could fault this sumptuous mansion,’ Clio replied, referring to Windgates, the Fletcher residence that was buried in the heart of the tranquil Hampshire countryside. ‘Your mother and those who went before her had exquisite taste. From my observations of the various houses I have been farmed out to before my aunt generously took me in, the possession of a fortune and refined taste seldom go hand in hand. Ostentatious displays of wealth in an effort to outdo one’s neighbours seem to be more in vogue.’
‘I keep forgetting about your nomadic existence,’ Adele replied. ‘It cannot have been easy for you, never being able to put down roots.’
‘You make me sound like a dandelion, carried on the breeze,’ Clio commented.
Adele giggled. ‘Sorry. Bad choice of words, but you know what I mean.’
