A Nightingale for the Lonely Duke, page 14
‘How dare you speak to me in such a manner!’ Frederick barked. ‘Have I not remained faithful to my commitment up to this point? Have I not shown your family the courtesy and respect for the arrangement our fathers’ made? I have done nothing wrong, Harvey, and I will not be spoken to in such an accusatory way as to insinuate that I have. Now, I must ready myself for my guests, I will leave you to find your own way to the ballroom.’
Filled with a rage that he was quite unused to, Frederick stormed from the study, slamming the door behind him as he left. It was not his usual way, for ordinarily, he maintained a calm disposition even under great pressure, but the man had gone too far.
Frankly, he had tolerated enough of the ridiculousness of both Honoria and her brother. If he were to marry a woman he did not love or care for, then he ought to at least have the choice of choosing when he would decide to announce the wedding. It would appear, it was the only thing he may have a choice over.
Yet it was now more than that. Harvey Richardson had the audacity to attempt to blackmail him in his own home. How dare he! If the man were not the brother of his betrothed, he would have him banished from his home in an instant, and yet, with the ball about to begin, he could hardly cause such a scene. He would just have to tolerate him for the rest of the evening and attempt to control himself around his other guests. After tonight though, perhaps something more ought to be done about his rather rash behaviour.
Chapter 16
Frederick worked the space, greeting all whom he met as he went and knowing well, he would hardly get the chance to have a full conversation with all in attendance, for there must have been three hundred people mingling in the large ball room. Not really seen by most, but duly noted by himself, were his servants, working hard in the background as they ensured people had plenty of refreshments, topping up glasses when necessary as they glided furtively around the room.
The large spread that had been prepared for supper would be served much later on, but Frederick was well aware of the effort that had been made in the detail, from the delicate table pieces to the simple soups. Cooking for such an array of guests was hardly an easy task and he had been grateful to have specialists involved in both the preparation of the confectionary and the sweet desserts.
It had taken him some time to calm down once alone in his bedchamber, but at least he had the privacy to rant within himself having left Harvey alone in the study. In an even more agitated state than Harvey had been in when he had arrived, Frederick had paced the entire room many times as he considered all that had occurred between them.
Apart from the audacious way in which he had spoken to him, the appalling lack of respect being clearly evident, it had been the impertinence of his demands and his threats, as though, simply by Harvey’s bidding, Frederick would do as he had requested after Honoria had run to her brother’s side and cried about her lot. How dare he attempt to blackmail him. He was the Duke of Griffinstead and he would not be dictated to by a man who had caused him trouble and hurt enough in their life time.
Was he not sacrificing enough as it was, agreeing to marry Honoria to honour his father’s arrangement with Harvey’s father? He refused to allow any man or woman, for that matter, to force his hand until he was ready to give it and certainly not from a man such as Harvey Richardson.
Honoria had been cunning in her plan. After continually pressing Frederick to concede to her will during a long debate between them, he had refused to announce their wedding date at the ball. After much attempts to convince him, but to no avail, she had appeared at the time to accept his decision, even though it was with some reluctance. Sulking with her usual manipulative behaviour, they had ended the discussion with her saying that she was satisfied with his decision, knowing that perhaps, it would not be long until they would announce the date for their wedding.
Clearly, it had been an untruth, for what she had done instead, was to run to her brother with a great showy display of despair. No doubt she had put thoughts in Harvey’s head that would not have been there otherwise, perhaps telling Harvey that her betrothed was considering reneging on the agreement, or something similar. It had made Frederick realise how much he could not trust her and wondered if he had not made a rather colossal mistake telling her about Miss Goodwin.
Yet, what could she do with such information? It was of no interest to her really, from where Miss Goodwin had originated, nor her loss and despair. Honoria just liked to know things that had little to do with her and would press until she discovered them. She was simply nosey by nature. Perhaps now that she had found out, her curiosity had been satiated and she would leave Miss Goodwin well alone, allowing her to continue with her duties as she had been employed to do.
A hum of conversation swirled through the air, mixed with the sound of the music and the clacking shoes of those dancing in the centre of the ballroom. Now far calmer than earlier, Frederick allowed himself to enjoy the festivities. Whilst Harvey had sensibly kept his distance, which suited Frederick well, Honoria had made her presence very evident, and attempted to catch his attention at every opportunity. Frederick remained polite, for that was all he could manage given her deceit, yet he knew his coolness toward her, originated from other reasons.
Rebecca had invited Miss Goodwin to the ball some weeks ago, and he knew well, she would be in attendance. He had struggled not to glare at her, when she had entered earlier, for she did look exquisitely beautiful in her delicate gown, much like she had on the night of their going to the opera. Had Honoria not arrived when she did, he would have been able to appreciate her beauty much more, but with the evening ruined, his mind had been distracted with other concerns.
With Rebecca at her side when Miss Goodwin entered the ballroom, Frederick had rationalised to himself that he was simply approaching them to welcome his sister to her first ball. Of course, it was an excuse to greet Miss Goodwin also, for they had hardly spoken since that dreadful evening.
With a low bow he had greeted them both equally, treating Miss Goodwin as much as a guest as any other, rather than an employee.
‘Good evening, Rebecca, Miss Goodwin. I do hope you will enjoy this evening, Miss Goodwin, for tonight you are not on duty and must allow yourself some enjoyment.’
‘Thank you, my lord,’ Miss Goodwin replied.
Her reply was neither short nor terse, and yet, the comfortable way in which they had spoken to each other previously was not at all present. Seemingly, she had put the walls up once more and had returned to her professional demeanour, the way she had been before they had shared that time alone in the drawing room.
‘I cannot believe how many people have arrived, Frederick,’ Rebecca bubbled, her eyes excitedly darting behind him as she took in the scene of the room. ‘It looks as though half of London is here.’
‘Believe me, Rebecca, this is nowhere near half of London. Do stick close to Miss Goodwin, she will help you if you are unsure on what to do or say.’
‘Oh, I will, Frederick.’ Rebecca gave him a strange sort of look. ‘Though I do believe, it ought to be me, looking out for Miss Goodwin.’
Frederick was unsure of his younger siblings meaning and so did not press any further, for he feared what might come out of his sister’s mouth. Whilst Miss Goodwin had certainly made great leaps in progress with Rebecca, there was still a way to go, and her impulsive ways had yet to be tamed to an acceptable standard.
‘Well, I will let you ladies get on and enjoy your evening.’
Frederick had stood aside and Rebecca and Miss Goodwin, with a small nod of acknowledgement, had passed by him and entered further into the room. Immediately, he noticed an array of male eyes following them, and he doubted it was his sister who garnered the most attention. A pang of jealousy ran through him as he watched appreciative smiles being thrown in their general direction by the available gentlemen. He could not help but wish that he were one of them.
It was later in the evening when his feeling of jealousy returned. Whilst he had attempted to remain attentive to Honoria, Frederick had struggled not to allow his gaze to follow Miss Goodwin for most of the evening. He had been careful, of course, for he kept his gaze moving, as though he were observing all in the room, rather than just her. However, he struggled at this moment, not to be rather captivated by what he witnessed.
Unlike earlier, she was no longer accompanied by Rebecca, rather, she was gaily dancing with a somewhat, handsome young gentleman. Clearly, he was enjoying the company of his dance partner, and by Miss Goodwin’s flushed cheeks, she too, did not seem averse to his admiring glances. Even though he felt deeply envious of the gentleman in question, he could not help but gaze at Miss Goodwin, for he had not seen her in such a position before. Light-footed, as he would have expected her to be, her moves were graceful, as though she floated across the dance floor. He determined in that moment, that he wished to be closer to her and experience her elegance for himself.
When the dance had finished, Frederick made his way to where she was, catching her breath a little and sipping at the glass in her hand.
‘I wonder if I might request the pleasure of the next dance, Miss Goodwin.’
Those beautiful green eyes looked up at him with a strange stare. It was almost as though she were asking him a question, for her gaze was a mixture of confusion and inquiry. He could only imagine that it had to do with his position, and what had occurred beforehand between them.
Doubtful that she had come to terms with what he had done, she now perhaps wondered why he would desire to dance with her, when he was clearly betrothed to another. He only wished he could answer her truthfully.
‘Of course, my lord,’ she replied eventually.
Once on the dance floor, Frederick had all the reasons in the world, not to take his eyes from her. It also became evidently clear, by the return of her gaze, that whilst things had indeed, been strange between them, she still felt something for him. It appeared that at that moment, Miss Goodwin did not even try to hide it, and he wondered if she realised how much she told him with her eyes.
Graciously, she swayed before him. With the dance not being a waltz, neither touched each other apart from when their hands joined at intermittent turns, and yet, even that small touch brought him great delight. He had spent the evening stiff and rigid, with Honoria nearly always by his side.
Yet at that moment, he suddenly felt free, alive, and happy. It must have shown in his expression, for after some time, Miss Goodwin soon relaxed a little, and returned his smiles with ones of her own. The only sadness came, when the melody finally finished, and the dance came to an end.
‘Thank you, Miss Goodwin. You are an exquisite dancer, and it has been a great pleasure.’
‘Thank you, my lord,’ she replied, a blush blooming upon her cheeks.
Suddenly, after a quick bow, she turned and quickly left his presence, leaving him standing alone, his gaze following her as she manoeuvred through the crowd, until finally, she was lost amongst the throngs of people. Her departure had been swift which confused him to begin with, for he had witnessed her pleasure in his company, and yet, it took only a second longer before he acknowledged that perhaps, her joy had only been in the moment.
Miss Goodwin had not forgiven him for his earlier behaviour, and he could hardly leave the blame at her feet. He had acted improperly, for no matter what he felt toward her, he had made a promise to another. It mattered little that he felt nothing toward that other, it mattered only that he ought to honour an agreement, even if that agreement had been made without his consent.
It was not long afterward, that an associate whom he met in one of the gentlemen’s clubs in London sidled up to him. Lord Phillips stood beside him and frowned at him, clearly with a look of concern.
‘I hope you do not mind my saying, my lord, for I speak only with your reputation in mind, but is it wise to be seen dancing with such a woman who is so deceitful? People are already beginning to whisper about your connection with her.’
Frederick could not have been more confused at Lord Phillips statement, and burrowing his brow, glared at the man.
‘Whatever are you referring to, Lord Phillips? I do not understand your concern at all. In fact, I do not understand anything that you have just spoken.’
‘You must know, my lord, that Miss Goodwin is not who she says she is.’
‘And who does she say that she is, Lord Phillips?’
Lord Phillips was about to continue, when Rebecca suddenly rushed to his side. With her usual lack of decorum, a panic-stricken look appeared on her face.
‘Frederick, I must speak to you immediately. It is urgent.’
Lord Phillips regarded Rebecca with a look of disdain, and then, noticing Frederick’s glare in his direction, suddenly changed his expression. Bowing slightly, he retreated without another word, leaving Frederick to deal with Rebecca.
‘What is so urgent, Rebecca? Truly, where is Miss Goodwin? Perhaps she ought to be by your side to instruct you on how to approach me when I am speaking to another.’
‘That is just the point, Frederick,’ Rebecca cried. ‘She has left. The rumours have travelled throughout the guests. She was dancing with a gentleman one minute, and suddenly, she ran from the ballroom without another word.’
‘What rumours?’
Frederick now became very concerned, for Lord Phillips had also mentioned rumours, and the only thing he could deduce, was that his affection for Miss Goodwin had been noted.
‘Do you not remember what you told me in confidence, Frederick. What you told me about Miss Alina?’
Of course, he remembered, but he did not understand the correlation between Miss Goodwin’s past and whatever rumours Rebecca was talking about. Perhaps because he still was not aware of the content of the rumour as of yet.
‘Apparently, Lady Richardson has discovered that Miss Alina is not a lady at all. She has told everyone in the ball what she has discovered, and Miss Alina must have heard what was being spoken about her, and now, she has run off.’
‘What has Lady Richardson been saying?’ Frederick demanded.
‘That Miss Alina is not a lady at all. That she is a gold digger and has attempted to sway your heart. She is really the daughter of a wine merchant who, when he died, left her and her mother in debt. This cannot be true, Frederick, can it? Honoria must be lying.’
‘Of course, it is not true. It is utter nonsense. I must speak to Honoria immediately.’
Frederick pushed his way through the crowd, noting the murmurs and judging glances as he passed. For the most part, he ignored the looks beneath hooded eyelids, for he was determined to source the whereabouts of Honoria. It took him less than a moment to reach her across the room, and when he did so, he hardly spoke to her.
Taking her firmly by the arm, he smiled tightly at the guests as they passed, and led her out of the ballroom without a word. He still did not speak to her on the short distance from the ballroom to the study, even when she hounded him as to the reasons of his strange behaviour. Only once they were inside the study, with the door firmly closed, did he release her and glare at her with an intense stare.
‘What is the meaning of this, Frederick?’ she demanded. ‘How dare you make such a show of me before all those people.’
‘I may well ask you the same question, Honoria,’ Frederick barked in reply. ‘How is it that I told you something in confidence, and now every guest at my ball knows about it?’
Honoria’s expression quickly changed from indignation to a sudden knowing. A slight smile danced at the corner of her mouth, her usual, ugly sneer back on her lips.
‘Every guest at you ball knows the truth, Frederick,’ she drawled. ‘I have not broken any confidence, for it was never the truth to begin with.’
‘That is nonsense, Honoria. I know well, the origins of Miss Goodwin, for I received it from a very reliable source. A man I trust, with a rather excellent reputation throughout the whole of London.’
‘I do not care from whom you received your information, Frederick. I discovered the truth for myself, and I am telling you with certainty. Miss Goodwin is no aristocrat, nor is she a lady. She is the daughter of a wine merchant. Her father died suddenly and left her and her mother in mountains of debt. Look at the evidence, Frederick. If she were some aristocrat, how is it that she has no accent from the country of origin? And that is only the beginning. How can you have been such a fool to believe that she were a lady? You only have to look at the woman to know that it cannot be true.’
