Page 4 of His Haunted Duchess
Olivia glared at her in exasperation.
“And where else, might I ask, is she going to find a husband worthy of her station? Camp out on the grounds, will he, springing out with the crocuses in the spring?”
“Oscar would enjoy that,” Caroline laughed. “He loves a good opportunity to pounce.”
“However, dear,” Winifred continued with a gentleness that spoke to Caroline’s heart, “your aunt is correct. In paving a road to a beautiful future, this ball would be an excellent place to start.”
Caroline looked at her plate. The deep, sinking feeling hadn’t left her stomach, but a flicker of courage stirred somewhere deep within her.
“I—I did think the blue silk a lovely choice,” she said timidly.
Aunt Olivia smiled like the sun coming out from behind a storm cloud.
“That was your mother’s dress. I’m sure you’ll do her credit. She was such a beauty at your age.”
Caroline sighed and put down her napkin, too nervous to finish. At least the ball was just one night. Surely nothing too terrible could go wrong in so few hours.
CHAPTER 2
“You’ll only set them tittering, Mother,” Frederic grumped. The edges of a headache pinched behind his eyes. “Please, as you love me, don’t encourage it.”
The Duke of Blackmore escorted his mother through the wide arch separating the rotunda from the ballroom. Flickering candles danced in their sconces as if eager for music. Frederic wished he could share their enthusiasm. Esther Grandon, the Dowager Duchess of Blackmore, nodded acknowledgement as they passed a group of ladies.
“Really, Frederic,” his mother said, raising a hand to acknowledge a gentleman’s bow, “you really are too hard on them. Tittering? These are the daughters of the ton, the jewels of the realm.”
“I think—even in the face of your inevitable displeasure—that I shall aver with even more sincerity: if these indeed are jewels, I prefer their earthy counterparts.”
Frederic’s mother raised one elegant eyebrow. She had, to put the term blandly, aged exceptionally well. The sudden passing of her husband, while a deep and lasting grief to her, had at least the benefit of relieving her of long-carried concerns and worries which had done wonders for her disposition and complexion. Even now, years after her loss, the tell-tale signs of age were only just beginning to creep about her eyes, and her long, ebony hair, pulled into a lush, flowing bun abundant with curls, bobbed affably to passersby.
“You really ought not to be so fastidious—especially at your age and condition when you could easily make one of these gems yours with a word.”
Frederic briefly halted, waiting for the party ahead of them to proceed.
“I have neither a plan nor inclination to marry. Even if the thought, consumed as my attention has been with business, had entered my fancy, I surely wouldn’t have attended it.”
His mother, prone to such effusions of the heart, sighed.
“Dear Frederic?—”
He pulled her around the group and further into the ballroom.
“No ‘Dear Frederic’ tonight, Mother. I’m in a terrible humor already.”
“Your Grace, then.”
She pulled on his arm, turning him to face her.
“Since your father’s unfortunate death, you are the master to the estate.”
Frederic clenched his jaw but said nothing. This territory wasn’t unfamiliar, much as he wished it to be. The duchess continued, unfazed.
“As such, you are bound with certain obligations—producing an heir of your own among them.”
Answers sprang unbidden to Frederic’s lips, and he shut them to trap them inside.
Perhaps, if his father had been more circumspect in his obligations, he could have produced more heirs himself. He, for example, made no pretense of guarding his wife’s honor and frequently sent her alone to such social engagements as this. It was Frederic who had accompanied and watched over her—and suffered through extra helpings of Lady Ethington’s platitudes on local lace—and returned home to an abandoned house and feeble excuses voiced by the mouths of apologetic servants.
Frederic’s thoughts, unchecked for a moment, continued down their surly way. In fact, if it hadn’t been for the unfortunate death his mother mentioned so ruefully, in combination withhis own assiduous business efforts, there wouldn’t have been an estate left to manage.
