The Duke's Unexpected Bride. Lara Temple
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becoming the object of wagers, even in his own club and among his own acquaintances. The sooner he made up his mind and got it over with the better. At least Lady Melissa had proven to fit his criteria very well. More than her beauty he appreciated her inherent reserve—it was clear she wouldn’t turn out to be like Serena, a beautiful but fatally flawed vessel, just waiting for the right amount of pressure to crack it. And he certainly wouldn’t have to worry whether his children were really his. Lady Melissa was as cool and controlled as Serena had been fiery and volatile. He would let it sit a day or to and then take the plunge. There was no point in prolonging the agony.
He had just taken the reins and dismissed his groom when he saw the Huntley girl walking her ungainly pug. He hesitated, wishing he had held off for a couple minutes so he could have avoided her. Still, there was nothing for it but to be civil. He held his stallion easily as it fretted at the inaction and nodded to her.
‘Good morning. I see he has come to accept his fate with equanimity.’
She stopped, smiling up at him, but perhaps she sensed his diffidence because her smile lacked the openness of yesterday and her voice was a shade more like a society miss.
‘Good morning. He actually walked down the stairs himself after his morning visit with Aunt Minnie. He is becoming quite alert, aren’t you, Marmaduke?’
Max eyed the near-dormant pug dubiously. Alert was not an adjective that sprang to mind.
‘Impressive. What did Lady Huntley have to say about the introduction of a dreaded leash into her home?’
‘I hadn’t meant to tell her, but the doctor tattled on me and it has had a most alarming effect on her.’
‘Is she angry?’
She laughed and he had to actively resist the urge to smile in reflexive response.
‘Not at all. After the doctor gave such a glowing report of Marmaduke’s performance, and I gave her Marmaduke’s sketch, she actually pinched my cheek. And apparently her spies among the servants told her the leash had been delivered anonymously and she demanded to know where it had come from, but I said I don’t know you and your sister’s name, merely that you probably lived near here and she said I was being very sly and good for me. That is by far the longest conversation I have had with her thus far.’
Max gave in and laughed. This strange girl seemed to see the positive or at least the amusing in everything. It really wasn’t quite proper or wise to be talking to her like this in the middle of the street, but as Hetty had pointed out someone as lively as she must be terribly bored with only Minerva and the pugs for company. A few moments of conversation would make no difference.
‘For how long are you captive in the Huntley hold?’
‘That is wholly up to Aunt Minnie. My other siblings lasted between a two days at the shortest to six days at the longest. That was Augusta, but she said Aunt Minnie almost never spoke to her, it was just that she liked the way she played the pianoforte. Then there was Cousin Arthur—he held on for a whole two weeks and was completely hateful and unctuous about it and I would dearly love to break his record.
‘I see. And what skill does the length of your servitude depend on aside from reforming her pugs?’
She twinkled up at him.
‘I am not quite certain. She has me read to her a great deal, the most amusing books and certainly nothing we are allowed at home. And now that she has discovered I am a fair artist she has decided she wants me to paint a full portrait...’ her voice wavered slightly ‘...of Marmaduke.’
‘Good God.’ Max glanced down at the object of the conversation and Marmaduke scratched himself absently. ‘In a heroic pose?’
Her laugh was joyful and infectious, but it caught on the end, as if she was used to reining it in.
‘Exactly. On a pedestal, with a landscape behind, or perhaps a castle. And both the Huntley and Trevelyan family arms. I told her I would be happy to, just so I can get her to buy me the painting supplies. I am to go to Reeves in Cheapside and buy what I need, which shall be very exciting, and also to the Royal Academy so I can get some ideas for the proper composition of a portrait. My dear Marmaduke is proving very useful, aren’t you, love?’
Marmaduke’s curly pink tongue lolled out and he directed her a look which was surprisingly adoring. Max smiled at the absurdity of it all—of the girl, the dog, the conversation and especially of his part in it.
‘So it looks like it is going to be a protracted stay. Have you ever been to the Royal Academy before?’
‘No, I have been pining to go see the Summer Exhibition, but one of the conditions of our stay has been that we not enjoy ourselves or at least not stray from Grosvenor Square. But now that I have a legitimate excuse to roam, I intend to take full advantage of it. The Royal Academy is this way, isn’t it?’
‘It is, but...do you intend to walk there? With the dog?’
‘Is it too far?’ she asked, concerned.
‘It is. He would expire before you made it halfway. And besides, you can’t take a pug into Somerset House!’ he said sternly. ‘And you also can’t go there on your own. You should at least take a maid with you.’
‘Aunt Minnie would never allow me to commandeer her maid and I can’t very well have James the footman trailing me around an art exhibition. I refuse to let this opportunity slip by simply because I don’t have a chaperon. I would never forgive myself. Besides, what on earth could happen to me there?’
‘That is not the point. Young women...well-born young women...do not wander around town unaccompanied.’
‘Oh, please don’t make me feel any guiltier than I already do. It is not as if I am known in London, so there is no reason anyone would ever know or even notice me. I simply can’t not go.’
Max told himself to take a firm step back. This was none of his business. And she had a point—no one knew her in London. But the thought of her wandering alone and unprotected through an unfamiliar city...
‘Take that misbegotten canine for his walk and then meet me in the garden in an hour. I will take you there,’ he said abruptly.
Her eyes widened in surprise, subjecting him to the full pressure of her sea-blue gaze. She was almost too expressive. He could see surprise and wariness and wistfulness in their multi-hued depths and he hoped no one would find out he was actually choosing to play chaperon for this peculiar girl.
‘That is kind of you, but it is really not necessary for you to put yourself out on my account,’ she said properly and some of his tension faded, giving way to amusement at what was clearly an uncharacteristic show of propriety on her part.
‘You sound like you are impersonating someone,’ he replied and her warm tumbling laugh, like the sound of water in a brook, evoked the same surge of proprietary heat as when he had accidentally touched her hand the previous day in the garden. It was short but sharp, unmistakable. Not that there was anything particular about her that merited this unwanted tug of desire. She was mildly pretty but unexceptional aside from her eyes which reminded him of the colours of the sea at summer off the coast near Harcourt. It was something that went beyond her looks, a vividness that was magnetic—an unconscious invitation to enjoy life.
‘Oh, dear, I was. My Aunt Seraphina, Arthur’s mother. She’s dreadful. I wasn’t at all believable, was I? But I do mean you needn’t go with me. I shall be perfectly fine on my own, really.’
‘Probably. We shall compromise then. I shall just make sure you get in safely and then leave you to explore while I continue on to the City. I have a meeting there later. And then you can take a hackney directly back home afterwards.’
He swung on to his horse before she could argue.
‘I will see you in an hour,’ he repeated and rode off, wondering if she would be there or whether even she would back down before such unconventional behaviour.
*