A Debt of Dishonor Page 8

  Ashleigh stopped abruptly and looked at her coldly. “Miss Webster,” he began.

  “No,” she said, holding up a hand. “I know you do not like what I am saying, but you cannot deny the truth of it. You are a duke, and your position imposes obligations as well as privileges—obligations to your peers. I will now return to my family, and we will return to Kelswick. You and your family are welcome to indulge yourselves with your tenants, your bucolic neighbors, whatever they are. Just remember that you may be doing more harm than good. They are not your equals. Your cousin may fend for himself, but you may be doing your niece a great disservice by encouraging her to befriend people so far below her. When she makes her come-out, people will judge her by her companions, and they will be less tolerant than you.”

  She turned and walked away, head high. Ashleigh regarded her with a mixture of irritation and a certain reluctant admiration. She had, for once, spoken honestly—or had spoken her honest beliefs, not quite the same thing. He still could not like her, but she had earned more of his respect than he would have thought possible. Of course, these people were not his equals and they were as aware of that as she. However, they were his responsibility. Did she not realize that the welfare of this entire area depended to a great extent upon him? What he did or failed to do could mean prosperity or decline for this town and all of those around it. And if he was to guide these people, he had to understand how they thought, what they needed, what they wanted.

  Still, was it possible that there was something of the truth in what she said, at least insofar as it affected Clara?

  He looked around the ballroom. Bancroft was now dancing with Miss Shelton, whose father was a country gentleman, prosperous, though far from wealthy. His cousin seemed no less friendly with her than he had with Miss Darling. He found that comforting. Then he frowned. Bancroft was not married. Why was that? Did he want to marry? There had been several discrete arrangements over the years, but that was no reason why he should not marry. He lived in rooms at Kelswick now, but there were several houses on the estate that he could have if he wished. Was he looking for a wife?

  It bothered Ashleigh that he did not know. He relied on Bancroft tremendously, on his judgment, on his knowledge. They talked together daily about the estate, about investments, about everything concerning the dukedom. Bancroft knew all his plans. But now, he realized that he knew nothing of Bancroft’s plans, of Bancroft’s hopes. Was Bancroft preserving his privacy, or had he just never asked, never noticed?

  He turned back to the dancers. Miss Darling was a bit farther down the room, partnered with Mr. Marshall. She was no longer smiling so broadly, but she looked no less happy than she had with his cousin, Ashleigh was pleased to see. She still looked remarkably lovely. Bancroft faded from his thoughts. He could not help noticing that the slight flush on her face as she danced made her eyes look particularly brilliant, and her figure, as she moved through the steps… her body… her rounded… he caught himself. Graceful. The girl was simply graceful as she danced. That was all he noticed.

  He turned away and looked for his niece, and found her throwing herself with enthusiasm into the country dance with a group of youngsters of her own age. They reminded him of nothing so much as a litter of puppies, and he could not help but smile. But as he watched them, Miss Webster’s strictures came to mind. Clara was the daughter of an earl and the niece of a duke. The rest of them were, at best, the children of minor gentry. Was he making a mistake in allowing her to be friendly with people so far beneath her socially? He did not want her to grow up as isolated as he had been, but had this gone too far?

  Clara had been only fourteen when she and her mother came to live here after the death of Lord Talmadge, Alice’s elderly and autocratic husband. Both of them had been so dreadfully subdued. Alice was intimately acquainted with matters of etiquette and precedence, but had not dared to voice an opinion on anything else. Clara had seemed afraid to speak about anything at all. It was a delight to see them blossoming over the course of the past year.

  Clara was laughing happily as she danced with farmers’ sons. He would not wish to silence that laughter. Besides, mingling with people who were dependent on her family could only give her a greater sympathy with them so that she would come to understand her responsibilities.

  Then there was Clara’s friendship with Miss Darling. Was this something he should discourage? There was nothing in the least vulgar or pushy in Miss Darling’s behavior. Her manners, her speech, her carriage—everything about her proclaimed her a gently bred lady. The uncertainty about her background was a problem. Still, Alice liked her, and apparently so did Lady Merton, not that that was much of a recommendation. An American like Miranda could hardly be expected to recognize what was and was not acceptable.

  No, Miss Webster was simply seeking to build up her own consequence by denigrating those around her, he decided. He could see no sign of any special fondness between Bancroft and Miss Darling any more than between Bancroft and Alice. He frowned. Bancroft and Miss Darling…it would be a perfectly acceptable match for both of them, even with the discrepancy in their ages. The notion should not bother him. He had no right to be bothered.

  Miss Darling seemed to have no lack of partners this evening, but Ashleigh came up to her just in time to engage her for a quadrille. He held her hand and her eyes as they circled around. She was smiling with what he was certain was genuine pleasure. As he circled about with her, he realized that he was truly enjoying himself. He could not remember the last time this had happened.

  *

  Lady Ambruster walked into her daughter’s room later that evening and sat down. Selina was already in her nightgown and her maid was brushing her hair. She looked at her mother and dismissed the maid.

  “He is not going to make you an offer,” Lady Ambruster said flatly.

  “No,” Selina agreed, “but I am glad we came. Now, I can see that we would not suit at all. It is a magnificent house, and it would make an excellent setting for me, but Ashleigh would drive me mad. His behavior is impeccable, but he seems indifferent to society. He is as willing to attend this trifling country assembly with these vulgar merchants and attorneys as a London ball in the company of his peers.”

  “You could perhaps persuade him to change,” her mother said speculatively.

  “No.” Selina was quite firm. “I have no wish to marry a man with whom I will be in constant battle, and I do not think he would be easily led. I will be better off with Lord Carrisbroke. He will come to the point as soon as I give him a hint of encouragement. He is only a viscount, and his estate is not so magnificent, but his fortune is enormous and he prefers London, as do I. It will be a better match.”

  Lady Ambruster nodded her agreement. “However, we should stay through the week. It would not do to cut our visit short.”

  “Of course,” said Selina, slightly shocked. “If we left early, it would appear we only came in search of an offer and left in defeat. We shall stay, and I will dress most magnificently and flirt with all the eligible gentlemen, if Ashleigh can manage to provide a few. And once we are home, we will arrange a house party of our own.”

  “At which Lord Carrisbroke will be a guest.”

  “Along with a number of other eligible gentlemen.”

  Mother and daughter smiled at each other, in perfect accord.

  *

  At home in Hawthorne Cottage, Kate lay in bed, unable to sleep, smiling as she relived every second of that dance. It had been glorious. She could still feel the touch of his hand at her waist. She could still see his smile as he looked at her, looked as if he really saw her. If she had ever believed in the possibility of a Prince Charming coming to her rescue, he would have looked like the Duke of Ashleigh. He would have been tall and fiercely beautiful, with heavy dark hair and blue eyes that seemed to see into the very heart of her. He would have been a man who took care of people, who would protect her, not think of her as simply another chip to toss onto the gambling table.

>   Could the duke possibly be what he appeared to be? Could he possibly be as honest and honorable as he seemed? Or was she deluding herself? Was she so dazzled by his beauty, so drawn by it, that she saw in him only virtue?

  Her smile turned into a mocking laugh. Did it really matter? He was a duke, and could have no honorable interest in her. He would expect to marry someone like Miss Webster, whose perfect facade could not even be broken by a smile, no less a laugh. Or a thought.

  Perhaps she was underestimating Miss Webster. Perhaps she did actually think. It didn’t really matter. The duke could marry Miss Webster, the daughter of a not-particularly-impressive but respectable viscount, but not the sister of someone as contemptible, as scandalous as Viscount Newell.

  More importantly, a duke could have no serious interest in the Darlings’ niece, and that was the woman he thought her to be. What she thought she had seen in his eyes had to be simple courtesy, not interest, not attraction.

  If she thought she saw anything more, she was mistaken.

  If she wanted to see anything more, she was a fool.

  But still, she could not rid herself of this longing ache.

  Chapter Six

  Lady Clara had insisted that Kate come to visit the day after the ball so that they could talk about it, and Lady Talmadge had laughingly seconded the invitation. It was an odd experience, Kate found. She was years older than Lady Clara—in some ways she felt herself decades older. Yet in other ways, they were on the same precise level, and Kate found the novelty of a young friend enchanting. They had quickly dropped all formality.

  It had been the first ball for Kate just as it had been for Clara, and their excitement and pleasure were identical. So they spent a highly enjoyable hour curled up cozily in Clara’s room dissecting the ball. They agreed that Mr. Marshall was too kind to mock, and Miss Shelton was too dimwitted to tease. Mr. Gibbons was by far the best dancer—other than the duke and Mr. Bancroft of course—but far too proud of his cravat. Mr. Dobbins was a danger to his partner’s toes, but so shy that one could not in good conscience refuse him when he worked up the courage to ask for a dance. Miss Webster—they rolled their eyes and agreed to think no more of her.

  Kate felt rather guilty listening to Clara disparage Miss Webster. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to do so herself. She just wasn’t sure it was quite right of her to encourage Clara to speak ill of her. Although she had to admit to herself that she was extremely pleased to hear that Ashleigh’s family disliked the oh-so-proper, oh-so-perfect Miss Webster. She was even more pleased to hear that Ashleigh himself found Miss Webster trying.

  Kate could console herself that she was only thinking of Ashleigh’s happiness. He would be miserable married to a china doll. Any man would.

  Having decided to take advantage of the sunny day, they set out for a walk and were almost at the bottom of the stairs when they heard Selina and Lady Ambruster above. In a moment of panic, Clara grabbed Kate’s hand and dragged her into the nearest room. She shut the door and leaned against it, holding a finger to her lips and listening in silence until she heard the two women leave the house.

  Clara stood up with a sigh of relief. “I’m sorry, Kate. I just couldn’t bear another lecture on the deficiencies of my behavior.”

  “Perhaps a lecture on the importance of making one’s guests feel comfortable and welcome might be in order.” The deep voice came from the side of the room. Clara and Kate spun around to see Ashleigh rising from his desk with a frown and the Earl of Merton standing beside him, half-laughing as usual.

  “That’s not fair, Uncle Peter,” Clara protested. “I have had them for the past week. Lady Ambruster keeps suggesting so very sweetly that I might try to moderate my enthusiasms, and Selina keeps pitying me for being so countrified and telling me how I must change if I wish to be accepted by the ton. Meanwhile, you get to hide here in the library all day long and only have to see them at dinner.”

  “That is, of course, one of the advantages of being a man,” said Merton, grinning. “We arrange our schedules to avoid the more onerous social duties, which the ladies fulfill so much more graciously.”

  It took Ashleigh a moment to comment. He realized that he had been staring at Kate—Miss Darling—and he could swear she was staring back. “You make it sound as if we are hiding away in here,” said Ashleigh, irritated with himself. What was wrong with him that he could not keep from staring at the girl? “Ambruster has proposed this canal project, and Merton is going over it with me. We need to determine whether it is worth an investment. I cannot spend my days dancing attendance on Lady Ambruster and her daughter.”

  Kate raised an eyebrow at this, but managed to keep silent. Clara, however, did not. “I can’t believe you are seriously considering any investment with him. You know the only reason they came is to push Selina on you.”

  “All the more reason for your uncle to hide,” laughed Merton.

  “You do not think you might be raising Miss Webster’s hopes by giving her father’s project serious consideration?” Kate said. Ashleigh looked at her incredulously and she flushed. “Pardon me, my lord. I had no business commenting on your affairs.”

  “But it’s perfectly true,” said Clara. “And I, for one, would never invest in a project of his. I don’t like him.”

  “And that, my pet, is why it is the gentlemen who make the decisions, and not the ladies, who are far too emotional.” Ashleigh gave her an indulgent look. “Whether I like my partners or not has nothing to do with my investment decisions.”

  “Truly, my lord?” asked Kate. “Suppose you distrust the man arranging the project, or doubt his honesty. Would that not make you hesitate?”

  “Of course, if I had some valid reason to doubt those involved, I would hesitate to join them. But not for a frivolous reason, such as a dislike of a man’s waistcoat—or of his daughter, which appears to be Clara’s complaint.”

  “You think a woman too foolish and frivolous to be able to determine a man’s character?” Kate’s posture had grown rigid and her tone was frosty.

  Ashleigh smiled placatingly. “I think women are far too apt to value a man for his dancing or his flattery. It is part of their charm that they react emotionally.” As you are reacting now, Miss Darling, he thought, but did not say.

  “Men, of course, always act calmly and rationally.” Kate sounded increasingly irritated.

  “More so than women, I believe. That is why their fathers and brothers and uncles”—he bowed to Clara—“are charged with their care and protection.”

  Kate glared at the duke. “How lovely that must be. All those gentlemen gambling away their fortunes in the clubs and hells, or just frittering the money away on their own pleasures can assure themselves that they are taking the best possible care of their wives, sisters and daughters because they are men and therefore are calm and rational.”

  “Obviously, there are men who do not live up to their obligations,” Ashleigh said, growing irritated himself, “but that does not mean the obligations are not there. Any man who calls himself a gentleman must always put first the welfare of the ladies of his family who have been entrusted to his protection.”

  “And is that what Lord Ambruster is doing? Is he dangling his daughter before you in an effort to entice you to invest in his canal scheme or is he dangling his canal scheme in an effort to entice you to marry his daughter? In either case, is it her welfare that concerns him or his own social and financial benefit?”

  “Really, Miss Darling, that is a most improper remark.” Ashleigh was truly outraged. The girl had no sense of propriety. And to be speaking this way in front of a child like Clara.

  “Yet it is precisely the kind of determination a woman must make if she wishes to survive,” she snapped. “A great many noblemen think a title simply means that they are entitled to self-indulgence. Any woman who finds herself at their mercy had best see to her own protection.”

  Merton stepped into the breach with an attempt to defuse the situatio
n. “Assuredly, there are selfish men who do not always live up to their responsibilities. That is something on which we can agree, can we not?” He turned his charming smile on Kate.

  She did not look charmed, but she took a deep breath and subsided. “Please forgive me, Your Grace, my lord. I fear I was carried away. That is no doubt a sign of my feminine weakness.”

  Clara was staring at Kate, wide-eyed and nervous. “I think the Ambrusters have gone now,” she said. “I heard the carriage. So we can leave.” She took Kate’s hand and almost pulled her from the room.

  Merton and Ashleigh stared at the empty doorway in silence. “Well,” said Merton at length, “what just happened here?”

  “I have no idea, but such anger suggests that the topic is a sensitive one.”

  “Anger indeed,” said the earl slowly, “but you can’t deny that what she said is perfectly true. I’ve known too many titled wastrels, as have you.”

  “That is beside the point.” Ashleigh was angry but he was not entirely certain why. “She has no sense. She should never have spoken that way in front of Clara, who has no need to know such things.”

  “No?” Merton tilted his head consideringly. “You think there is no danger in ignorance?”

  “Not for Clara,” said Ashleigh firmly. “I am here to protect her.”

  Merton looked inclined to argue, but shrugged instead. “Was Miss Darling speaking from personal experience, do you think?”

  “I can hardly doubt it. It would appear that the men of her family were less than dutiful in pursuit of their obligations. She said something the other day that suggests her father paid little attention to his family.” He was still staring at the door through which she had departed.

  “A bit of a mystery, isn’t she?”

  A mystery, indeed, thought Ashleigh. She was too bitter to be complaining of nothing but carelessness. But an attractive—a beautiful—young woman like Miss Darling with guardians who failed to protect her…. he did not like to think of the kind of betrayal that could have befallen her. He turned and realized that Merton was watching him with a knowing smile. He scowled.