Duke of Honor, page 12
Hadley followed Phoebe to her bedchamber. As they entered, she saw Phoebe’s husband sitting in a chair by the window, an open book on his lap and his infant son in his arms.
“Hello, my darling. Lady Hadley,” he greeted. “We have been reading Shakespeare’s sonnets.”
Robby screeched piercingly and then a huge grin crossed his face.
Phoebe went and lifted her son into her arms and kissed his forehead. “Is Papa teaching you to be a romantic?” she cooed to the child. Turning to Hadley, she said, “He is, you know. A romantic.” She smiled fondly at Windham and handed the baby back to him.
“You have a look in your eyes, Wife. You are up to something,” the duke noted.
The duchess smiled. “We are. Operation Rescue.”
“Hmm. It sounds military in nature to me. Who needs to be rescued, my love?”
“The Duke of Hardwick,” Phoebe replied. “He’s meant for Lady Hadley here and is too obstinate to realize it.”
Windham nodded. “I have pointed that very thing out to him myself, my dear.” His gaze turned to Hadley. “Sebastian has feelings for you, my lady. The war changes men, though. It colors the way they view the world. I think my friend was more affected by his experience than most.”
“That is my observation also, Your Grace,” she said. “Hardwick told me, in so many words, that he doesn’t deserve happiness. He kissed me—and then let me know we had no future.”
The duke chuckled. “Couldn’t keep his hands off you. That’s a good thing, my lady.” He reached for his wife’s hand and threaded his fingers through hers. “I assume Operation Rescue is meant to make Sebastian see the wisdom in offering for you.”
“I hope so.” Hadley sighed. “I don’t know how to save him, Your Grace. My head tells me he is a broken man but my heart wants to help him heal.”
A thoughtful expression crossed the duke’s face. “War is devastating to a man’s soul, my lady. In countless ways. Officers, in particular, carry a heavy burden because of the love they feel for their men. When letters are written to loved ones at home confirming a soldier’s death, details and feelings must be suppressed. Duty lies above all else.”
He kissed his son’s head. “Everything about the war stays with you, long after you have left the battlefield. The sounds of the cannons firing until you feel you might grow deaf. The smell of gunpowder and blood permeating the air. The ground littered with bodies—some still and dead, while others who are maimed or fatally wounded cry out for help or their loved ones. You dread falling asleep because you dream of these things. You awaken from the nightmares in a cold sweat, your heart beating so violently you think you will die. You second-guess yourself after a battle because you wished you could have done more to save the men you lost.
“And you must write countless letters to the families of the soldiers under your command who were lost. Over and over, you describe a man’s bravery and his quick yet heroic death, when many times that soldier suffered beyond imagination.”
His Grace’s smile tore at Hadley’s heart. “These are some of the things that haunt Sebastian.”
She swallowed, recalling the many letters she had read to the old duke from his son and how not one had mentioned any of this.
“How does a man recover from these life-altering experiences?” she asked. “What could I do to help Hardwick to heal?”
Windham gazed up at her. “You watch carefully. You try to help ease his transition into civilian life. You listen without judgment, refraining from commenting and inserting your opinions. You help him to once more enjoy the small things in life that can bring pleasure.” He paused. “And you love him, pure and simple. You let that love flow into him. Love will bring the emotional strength he needs to recover. It will help give him a foundation to help rebuild his broken life.”
His Grace smiled at her. “I will do my part and rally the troops to make sure we support your endeavor. What is your first step?”
“Lady Hadley is going to look ravishing at dinner tonight,” the duchess said, trying to lighten the somber mood. “In one of my gowns.”
Windham nodded. “The royal blue you were to wear this evening?”
“That is the one I was thinking of,” Phoebe confirmed.
He closed the volume of poetry and set it aside and then rose, his son still in his arms. “Robby and I will leave you to your work. Good luck, Lady Hadley.” The duke winked at her and left the room. A cat jumped into the now unoccupied chair and began bathing.
Her friend rang for her maid and then went to the tabby and stroked him.
“This is Caesar,” she told Hadley. “He is an integral part of our family and goes wherever we do.” Phoebe laughed. “When the trunks come out to be packed, so does Caesar’s traveling basket.”
“I have never had a pet,” Hadley said. She bent and stroked the cat’s silky fur.
“He even sleeps with Andrew and me,” admitted Phoebe. “I had to leave him behind once—before Andrew and I were married—and Andrew brought Caesar a long way so we could be reunited.”
“Is that when you knew he was the one for you?” she asked.
Phoebe sighed. “I don’t remember a time when my heart didn’t tell me that Andrew was for me.”
“I have felt that way about Sebastian for years,” she said, still petting the cat’s fur.
“What?” her friend asked, her confusion obvious.
“Although I only met Sebastian when he returned from the Continent, many years ago I saw him riding away the day he left and I arrived at Hardwell Hall,” she explained. “Sebastian wrote home once a month and I would read his letters aloud to the duke over and over until the next one came. Over the years, I drew a clear picture in my mind of the man Sebastian was.”
“What a romantic way to fall in love with someone, through letters,” Phoebe exclaimed.
“The trouble has been that while I believe I know Sebastian extremely well, he knew nothing at all about me.”
“He is attracted to you, Hadley. He wouldn’t have kissed you otherwise.”
“I know. It’s almost, though, as if he wishes to save me from whatever gloom lies within him by pushing me away. He would rather wed a stranger and keep her off to the side than give us a chance at lasting happiness.”
Phoebe’s maid entered, carrying a beautiful dress in her arms.
“That one will be for Lady Hadley,” she told the servant. “Fetch me the gold for this evening.”
“Yes, Your Grace.” The maid placed the gown across the bed and bobbed a quick curtsey before leaving.
They went to the bed and Hadley saw this must be the gown the duke had referred to. “Oh, my. It’s so lovely,” she said, fingering the silk.
“It will look even lovelier on you. Come, let me help you into it.”
The maid returned with a second gown for her mistress and they both worked on placing Hadley in the borrowed gown. The blue silk shimmered. The only thing she doubted was the scooped neckline.
“You don’t think . . . that it is too much?” she asked hesitantly.
“Not at all,” Phoebe assured her. “You have a lovely bosom. It is meant to be displayed. The bodice and cut of the gown show enough for a man to be tempted. You will attract more than a few men’s eyes tonight. I expect that will include Sebastian.”
“You do look beautiful, my lady,” the maid seconded.
Hadley smoothed the skirts, feeling the folds of blue were like water streaming about her.
“I do like it,” she confided. “I feel quite pretty in it.”
“I have two more gowns that you will need to try on. It’s a good thing my breasts are larger now that I have birthed Robby else you wouldn’t have fit into my gowns before that.”
Phoebe told her maid which two dresses to take to Hadley’s bedchamber and said if Hadley needed any adjustments made to them, she would loan her maid to make them.
“I will return to my room now and have Millie work on my hair,” she said.
“Something simple and elegant, Hadley,” Phoebe suggested. “A low chignon would be nice.”
“I agree.”
Hadley returned to her guest chamber and found Millie waiting for her.
“My stars! You look wonderful, Lady Hadley. That color of blue is striking on you.”
“You think so, Millie?”
Her maid nodded emphatically. “I know so. You will have all them lords eating from the palm of your hand. If you are wanting a husband, tonight might be the night you find yourself one.”
She didn’t want any husband. She wanted Sebastian. Would he be able to cast aside his demons and doubts in order to chase after happiness? She prayed he would, for both of their sakes.
“The Duchess of Windham suggested a low chignon for tonight.”
Millie nodded. “Her Grace is right. You have got nice cheekbones, my lady. You need to show them off. No stuffy hairstyle or curls to take away from the beauty of your face and that of the gown.”
She took a seat at the dressing table and Millie unpinned Hadley’s hair and brushed it until it shone. Then the maid smoothed and twisted and twirled and repinned it so the knot of hair brushed low on Hadley’s nape.
Millie stepped back, admiring her work. “You look right nice, my lady.”
“Thank you. I will see you later tonight.”
“Enjoy yourself, my lady. You deserve a little fun.” The servant’s eyes twinkled. “Maybe you will even get a kiss.”
Hadley stared at herself in the mirror. The royal blue went well with her coloring and her auburn hair. She should wear this color more often. She stood and found herself growing nervous. Glancing to the mirror once more, she knew she looked her best. Now, to either attract Sebastian’s attention—or make him jealous by speaking to other male guests.
Operation Rescue had begun.
*
Bardham finished tying Sebastian’s cravat. The valet braced the stump of his right arm against Sebastian and whipped the cravat around using his left fingers, deftly tying it and fluffing the cravat into place. Sebastian looked in the mirror and couldn’t help but admire the elaborate knot.
“You are a wonder, Bardham,” he proclaimed. “I couldn’t do without you during the war and I certainly cannot now.”
“Thank you, Your Grace. I am glad to be needed. What you want, though, is more than me.”
“What do you mean?”
“You are a fine-looking gentleman, Your Grace. You have a title and a great estate. A fortune at your disposal. What you need is a wife.”
His mouth hardened at the suggestion. “You have a candidate in mind?”
“Several lovely ladies are present at Blackstone Manor,” Bardham said. “His Grace’s sister, Lady Elizabeth, is certainly one of the most eligible women here. Lovely and a bit lively.”
Sebastian knew Elizabeth would make for a perfect duchess but, somehow, he only saw her as a little sister. Elizabeth would also never settle for the type of marriage he had in mind. Jon had told him his sister wanted to find love. She would have to do so with someone other than a tired soldier.
“That Lady Callamina seems to be sweet,” Bardham continued.
Sebastian had been thinking the same. The blond was a bit shy and very pretty. Gentle and well-bred. If he had to choose from those in attendance at the house party, she would be his choice. Her parents, Viscount and Viscountess Plimpton, were quite overbearing and when they were around, they never let their daughter get in a word edgewise. Lady Callamina would probably enjoy escaping from under their thumbs and having her own household to run.
“Then there’s Lady Hadley.”
“No,” he said firmly.
“No?” questioned Bardham, his brows arching. “Why, she is the cream of the crop, Your Grace. I merely saved mentioning her for last because she seems the obvious choice for you.”
“Not to me,” he said brusquely. “And I don’t like how everyone is forcing her upon me.”
Bardham studied him a long moment. “Have your friends suggested a match between you and Lady Hadley?”
“They have,” he admitted, seeing in his mind how well Hadley fit in with the wives of his closest friends.
“You have known Their Graces for quite some time, Your Grace. Perhaps they can see what you don’t see.”
“I see everything perfectly clear,” he stated. “Lady Hadley is not going to be my duchess.”
His valet sighed, his frustration obvious. “I am sorry to hear that. Everyone at Hardwell Hall thinks quite highly of her ladyship. From what I gather, she made the former duke act more humanely toward servants and tenants alike. She’s bright, too, and has kept the estate running like clockwork for several years.”
“It is my job to run the estate,” he ground out. “Not a woman’s.”
“Oh, so that’s how it is.”
His eyes narrowed at Bardham’s judgmental tone. “What do you mean?”
Bardham shrugged. “Nothing, Your Grace. I will see you later this evening.”
As his valet crossed the room, Sebastian demanded, “Where are you going? You haven’t been dismissed, you know.”
The former batman turned. “You are already dressed. You are about to leave for dinner downstairs. You have no further need of me—or my opinions.” With that, Bardham exited the room, shutting the door just a bit too firmly.
Sebastian swore loudly. “I could fire you, you know,” he called out to the empty room.
Of course, he never would. Who knew if Bardham could find another job, with his missing limb and poor attitude? In the event Sebastian did try to fire his valet, he supposed the man would simply leave with Hadley. He had sung her praises often enough.
He perched on the bed. What was he going to do? Everyone thought Hadley would make for the perfect duchess, with her beauty and grace and knowledge of his affairs. He couldn’t do that to her, though. He felt as if he were drowning every minute of the day. If she was his lifeline, he would clutch at her and she would be dragged down into the abyss with him.
It wouldn’t be fair to wed her. Get children off her. Then push her aside and never truly let her in. Hadley was too warm. Too caring. She would fight to find and exorcise his demons. He couldn’t allow that. Everyone thought him a hero—only Sebastian knew he wasn’t. He was a traitor. A man who had betrayed every principle he had thought he stood for. Hadley deserved a good man. Not a hollow shell. He would tell his friends that they simply didn’t suit and strongly consider offering for Lady Callamina.
Determined to stay the course, Sebastian left his guest room and ventured downstairs. Arabella had set up a brief time for the guests to come together and partake in a glass of wine before they went in to dinner. He would seek out Lady Callamina and pay her special attention to see if she might be interested in becoming his duchess.
Only when he entered the room, his eyes swept it until he found Hadley.
Christ on a cross!
She stood conversing with Lord Dean and Lord Banfield. As usual, Banfield must have uttered something witty because Hadley and Lord Dean burst out laughing. Sebastian swallowed, trying to get hold of himself. He wanted to drag his eyes from her—and couldn’t.
Hadley wore a gown of bright blue, which hugged her every curve. The scooped neckline exposed a good amount of creamy flesh, her breasts rounded globes that his hands itched to cup. His mouth watered, thinking of lowering the gown and exposing those breasts. Sucking on them. Tasting her flesh as his tongue traced their curves. Already, his cock hardened just thinking of it.
What would it be like to actually do it?
Weston and George joined him, a drink in their hands. Sebastian turned and snatched a goblet from the tray the nearest footman held and downed the contents in a single swallow. He replaced it and took another and drained it, as well.
“Slow down, my friend,” Weston said.
“I am thirsty,” he said curtly, setting the empty container back on the tray. He started to reach again but George stepped between him and the footman and murmured something. Immediately, the servant moved away from the trio.
“What have you been doing to work up such a thirst?” George inquired casually. He glanced across the room and back at Sebastian. “Looking at Lady Hadley, perhaps?”
He swore under his breath.
“I don’t know why you are so resistant to the idea,” Weston said. “The lady is quite remarkable. Certainly the most beautiful of the eligible women here. More importantly, she is already fast friends with all our wives.”
“Who? Lady Hadley?” Jon asked, joining them.
“Quit saying her name,” Sebastian hissed.
Jon grew contemplative. “Was it Shakespeare who mentioned protesting too much? I am certain it was.”
“Yes,” Weston said. “In Hamlet.”
“How do you remember that?” George asked. “All his plays run together for me.”
“Enough,” Sebastian said quietly, reining in his temper. “You are all good friends to me. Very good friends. But I am the one who will choose my own wife. Lady Hadley is not under consideration.”
“Who is?” Weston asked.
“Possibly Lady Callamina.”
“The chit is sweet but to have Plimpton as your father-in-law?” Jon shuddered.
“Perhaps I feel like playing the hero and rescuing her from such an overbearing father.”
He heard Hadley laugh again and immediately turned in her direction. Lord Hayward, that damned bastard, was smiling at her like a besotted fool.
Arabella called out to her guests, “Shall we all go into dinner?”
Sebastian watched as Hayward said something to Hadley, bending close, his lips practically touching her ear. She nodded and took his arm. Fury spread like wildfire through Sebastian.
“For a man not interested in the lady, you certainly are . . . engrossed in the company she is keeping,” Jon noted.
“Sod off,” he said and walked away from his friends.
He went straight to Lady Callamina, who stood with her parents and two other young ladies whose names he couldn’t recall.
Smiling, he asked, “My lady, might I lead you into dinner?”
Lady Callamina looked stricken at the attention. Her mother nudged her with an elbow and hissed, “Go on. He’s a duke.”
