Page 5 of His Haunted Duchess
He sighed. But true points aside, it didn’t do to speak ill of the dead, however much they endeavored in life to deserve it.
“From my own experience,” he said, trying to keep the ire out of his voice, “I wouldn’t inflict a childhood like mine on any being, much less my own issue.”
Her eyes clouded.
Frederic sighed but continued, “your affection wasn’t sufficient to cover his neglect. His addiction?—”
“Frederic!” she said reproachfully, looking about the room.
“His habits, if you prefer,” he amended, lowering his voice, “put me through what I would never willingly inflict on another, especially a child. Were I—as you have often expressed hope that I would—to follow in his footsteps, then even in my last, selfish moments, the horse races would weigh heavier in my esteem than the suffering of my own kin.”
The duchess brushed a curl off her shoulder and smiled tightly as another patron strolled past them.
“You did not know him as I did.”
“What I knew was enough. And I firmly hold, madam, that even if the chance for matrimony were to present itself, I wouldn’t be inclined to take it.”
His eyes scanned the room. He nodded to a few gentlemen of his acquaintance, generally associated with recent business interests. A few others he passed over scornfully. He had no time for such men as those—men with whom his father would have enjoyed spending an evening.
An older gentleman, quite close to them, bowed.
“Your Graces—a pleasure, as always.”
“Lord Russell.” The duchess curtsied. “I hope you have come intent on being better company tonight than my son. He hardly wishes to dance at all and only accompanied me upon my insistence.”
Frederic bowed but said nothing. Lord Russell smiled nervously.
“Any occasion to meet His Grace in public is, of course, a delectation.” He turned to Frederic. “I hope, sir, that your disinclination does not stem from a lack of acquaintance with ladies of your preference. I should be happy to provide you with an introduction if you are so inclined.”
Frederic scanned the room. High brown curls wrapped in green velvet turbans and ostrich feathers; coquettish blonde ringlets flattered by fluttering lashes and pert, cherubic lips, the deepestauburn locks studded with diamonds and pearls—and yet, in all of them, something lacking. No depth. No presence. Just fashion.
He sighed.
“Thank you for your offer, sir, but I’m far more inclined to refreshment from the kitchens tonight than to any offered by the fairer sex.”
Lord Russell bowed and moved further into the room. Esther turned to her son.
“What your father was or wasn’t does not pertain to us here. Even more importantly,” her eyes softened, “you are not him, nor are you what he was or in any danger of becoming so.”
Frederic’s throat tightened. He had been there, the night his father died. He had been there every day since, trying to repair the damage of his sire’s spendthrift recklessness. Esther laid a hand on Frederic’s arm.
“When the time comes for you to raise your own child, I’m sure you’ll provide an excellent example.”
Frederic sniffed, but the corner of his mouth turned up, perhaps for the first time that evening.
Despite his taciturn rejection of the ball in general, he couldn’t help but be affected by the beauty of the room. Gold crepecurtains fell down like the train of a benevolent goddess, blessing the shining marble tiles at their feet. A chamber group played a thoughtful air in the corner, priming their instruments for more lively music to follow. Frederic closed his eyes, absorbing the distant strain.
“Ah!” His mother cried in obvious relief. “Lady Felicity. So good to see you again.”
Frederic snapped his mouth shut just in time to prevent the groan that was threatening to escape it. In the future, he vowed to himself, he didn’t care how much his mother wanted company, he would send a servant instead.
He opened his eyes.
A petite, brown-eyed beauty bobbed in front of him, just rising from a deep curtsey. Her eyes immediately sought his.
“Your Grace,” she beamed almost as brightly as her honey-blonde curls. “I’m delighted as always.”
Frederic, trapped between his true and unfavorable opinions of the lady before him and the demands of false courtesy, merely gave a short bow. The duchess immediately filled the gap.
