Forever My Love (Historical Romance), page 10
She could not seem to find her voice, and she felt giddy. "I doubt I shall have any admirers. I am no beauty."
He stared at her in astonishment. "Has no one ever told you that you are lovely?"
She smiled. "Of course. My papa thought I was an 'incomparable.' But you see, he also thought I was brilliant. My mathematics teacher would tell you that's not the case."
Preston looked deeply into the little charmer's eyes. "I wonder if you will make me a promise, Miss Bradford?"
"Of course, if I can."
"The next time we meet at a social, and I can assure you there will be a next time, will you remember that you owe me at least one dance?"
"I will remember," she said in all sincerity.
"So shall I. Now, I wonder if you will do me another favor?"
This time her smile was not so hesitant. "Yes, I will."
"My mother has asked if you would attend her. She has been most anxious to thank you and pay her respects."
"But I told you I did—"
He extended his arm to her. "Shall we?"
Shyly she placed her gloved hand in the crook of his arm. She could feel her chest swell with pride to be escorted by such a handsome and important man.
"Let me warn you that my mother can appear reserved," he advised. "But don't be put off by her. She is really quite nice when you get to know her."
Royal took no comfort in his words. As they crossed the room, she felt the piercing scrutiny of the dowager's gaze. Lord Preston gave her a supportive smile.
"Courage," he said, as if he knew she was nervous.
When he presented Royal to his mother, the girl met the cool blue eyes that swept her from head to toe.
The dowager duchess of Chiswick leaned heavily on a pearl-handled walking stick. She was older than Royal had thought. Her gray hair needed no powder, and rather than styled in the latest fashion, it was reminiscent of the simpler, less extreme coiffure that had been popular twenty years earlier. Her rococo Watteau gown with silk cords and tassels was also a reminder of days gone by.
"My dear," the dowager said in a voice that was warm and soft. "I am so delighted to meet you. Come"—she motioned to the empty chair beside her—"sit with me so we can talk. I want to know all about my daughter's friend."
Royal slipped into the chair and folded her hands demurely in her lap. She was aware that Lord Preston had moved away to dance with the woman who had accompanied him to the social.
She spent the remainder of the evening sitting beside the dowager duchess, and in no time at all the older woman knew all about her life.
***
That night Royal's sleep was sweet as she dreamed of dancing with Lord Preston. She laughed and played coy as he whirled her around the dance floor, declaring she was a beauty. But when she looked into his handsome face, his image slowly began to fade and another took its place—a face with startling golden eyes... a face that always haunted her dreams.
Before, she had always welcomed the image of Damon Routhland, but tonight she had wanted to think only of Lord Preston.
With a heavy sigh, she turned onto her back, and for the rest of the night her sleep was dreamless.
***
John Bartholomew leafed through the bills that had arrived from London dressmakers, milliners, and cobblers. His expression was disapproving as he placed the neat stack before his employer for inspection. "For one in mourning, I believe Miss Bradford is spending an excessive amount of money on clothing, Mr. Routhland. Shall I make it clear to the London solicitor that her spending habits are not within her means, and that he should curb her extravagance without delay?"
Damon had been reading some correspondence, and he glanced up at John impatiently. "No, let the poor child have her diversions. God knows she has had little in her life to make her happy. If decking herself in finery will comfort her, then let her be."
John Bartholomew's chin jutted out at a reproachful angle, because in his methodical manner he could not accept frivolity. "I believe it would be remiss of me if I did not point out to you that Miss Bradford is already in your debt to a sum of more than five thousand pounds. Not to mention what you paid to settle her father's debts to save the Bradford home from the auction block. The girl should be told that it is your money she is spending with such regularity."
Damon thumbed absently through the bills and then shoved them aside. "She is never to know that her father left her destitute. I want her to be young and carefree."
John looked with astonishment at the master of Swanhouse Plantation, seeing him with a new insight. Damon Routhland was a shrewd businessman, and it was not good business to put money into settling bad debts, but he would do as he was told.
"It will be as you wish, Mr. Routhland," he said at last. "I will instruct Mr. Webber to allow Miss Bradford a free hand." John cleared his throat. "I wonder, Mr. Routhland, if you have considered how Miss Bradford will subsist if war is declared?"
"I have thought about that. Has she mentioned being persecuted in any of her letters?"
"No, sir, she has not. Of late, she has even stopped asking to come home."
"If the time ever comes when she is harassed because of her loyalties, let me know, and I will strongly consider bringing her back."
"Yes, sir. Will there be anything else today?"
"No, that will be all, John."
As the secretary turned to leave, Damon's thoughts turned to the pretty redhead who had so charmed him at the ball the night before. "John," he called out, stopping his secretary at the door. "Instruct the gardener to gather three dozen perfect white roses and have them delivered with my card to Miss Darcy Maxwell's home."
Even as he tried to recall Darcy Maxwell's alluring smile, Damon had visions of a sad, angelic little face. Royal had again pushed her way into his consciousness to disturb his peace of mind.
Although the child was across an ocean from him, he felt her presence nonetheless. Perhaps because she had been such a melancholy little girl, she played upon his pity.
Absently picking up one of the bills for Royal's new gowns, he studied it. A small price to pay for a lost little girl's happiness, he thought.
***
The week seemed endless for Royal as conflicting reports reached England about a skirmish that had erupted in Boston at a place called Bunker Hill. The sketchy accounts said that the proud British soldiers had lost half their defending forces. There were those who were calling the colonists who died "rabble" and "dissenters," but reports recounted that Sir William Howe, the commander of the British forces, wept and sent word to the king that the rebels are not the despicable rabble many have supposed them to be.
A troubled Royal took up her journal and began to write:
Dearest Papa,
It seems there is no turning back the tide of war. I fear two prideful forces will soon face one another, and it won't be concluded until one or the other gives ground. Surprisingly, there are a few brave souls here in England whose voices are raised in anger against the King. John Selden, A member of Parliament caught the mood of the Colonies with his writing: "My penny is as much my own as the King's ten pence is his. If the King may defend his ten pence, why not Selden his penny?" Good night, Papa.
11
Dear Papa,
You would be happy to know I am quite in vogue. Where I once had no friends, now it seems everyone seeks my advice and counsel. Most of all, and by far the most glorious, is that I have a true friend in Alissa. I had hoped to spend the summer with Aunt Arabella, but it seems she is in Rome and cannot come to England this year. I have been invited to stay at Chiswick Castle, and.I admit to being a bit nervous about the visit. I also admit I hope to see Lord Preston again. Will he remember me! I hope so. Good night, Dearest Papa.
1776
Hannah laced Royal into her corset, then helped her into her new gray traveling gown and stood back to survey the result. "You won't have to be ashamed of your clothes, Miss Royal. Your new gowns are as nice as anyone's."
Royal glanced at the travel trunks that had been packed with all her new finery. Since she was no longer in mourning, she had found to her dismay that her old gowns no longer fit. She had been delighted, however, when Mr. Greenburg had informed her that Mr. Routhland was allowing her a free hand in replenishing her wardrobe. She had bought gowns for every occasion, with slippers and bonnets to match.
Hannah placed a bonnet on Royal's head. "You look beautiful, miss. It's all grown up, you are."
"Sixteen is not so grown up, Hannah. I wish I were seventeen, like Lady Alissa, so I could wear my hair arranged à le bel oiseau," Royal said wistfully.
"The headmistress would never allow that, miss," Hannah replied gravely. "If you did such a thing, Mrs. Fortescue would have me out on the streets, and you wouldn't be far behind, I'll wager."
"I know," Royal admitted. "But, still, I wish I were older."
The maid held out the velvet cape that matched Royal's gown. "One thing's for certain, Miss Royal. If you live long enough, you'll get older."
"I intend to live a very long time," Royal informed Hannah. "There are many things I have not yet done." She walked to the door with Hannah trailing close behind. "I just want to be a woman so I will no longer have to attend school and can go home to Georgia."
Even as Royal spoke, she thought how far away Georgia seemed to her now and how remote the war was that raged between her country and England. She realized with a shock that she no longer felt homesick. She had become content with her life, and weeks would pass without her even thinking of Savannah, or Damon Routhland.
***
When the crested coach arrived at the front of the school, Royal's excitement mounted. She was ushered inside by a liveried footman, who stood stiffly at attention while Hannah climbed in the seat opposite her. Several students lined the steps and were waving farewell as the carriage pulled away.
Royal had only ventured away from school on picnics and occasional outings with the rest of the girls. Today would be the first time she had been invited as a guest in a private home. She nervously worked her fingers into her black kid gloves. Her invitation had come from Lady Alissa's mother, and she felt anxious at the thought of spending time with the dowager duchess.
While the well-sprung carriage clipped along at a steady pace, Royal recalled seeing Chiswick Castle from a distance the day of Alissa's accident. That day she had certainly never imagined being invited to the castle as a guest.
Royal settled back into the black leather seat and stared out the window. She hoped Lord Preston would be there when she arrived. She glanced down at her new gown, knowing she looked her best. Would he think she was pretty?
She reached over to the basket of fruit that had been placed there for her comfort, took a red apple, and bit into it. This summer could possibly be the most exciting of her life.
***
It was just after the noon hour when the coach pulled to a stop before the wide steps leading to the castle. Royal swallowed her fear of the imposing structure, which looked twice as large as she remembered.
As her foot touched the ground, Lady Alissa came gliding down the steps with a wide smile of welcome. "I thought you would never get here! I have so many things planned for us, it will take the whole summer to accomplish them!"
Arm in arm, the two girls climbed the stairs. Royal took a steadying breath as, at last, she stood before the dowager duchess.
"Welcome to Chiswick, my dear. It is our desire that you will pass a pleasant summer with us."
Royal dipped into a curtsy. "Thank you, Your Grace. It is most kind of you to have me."
The dowager gripped the handle of her cane. "Alissa, take your friend inside and present her to your brother and his wife. Then the two of you are free to seek your own pleasures until afternoon tea."
Lady Alissa guided Royal into the cool hall. Royal stared at the high ceilings with their polished beams and the walls where ancient armor and weapons hung.
Lady Alissa giggled when she saw where Royal's gaze was directed. "It is a bit ostentatious, is it not? But pay it no attention— it is merely my brother's attempt to impress visitors."
"Lord Preston?"
"No, silly goose, my brother Nathan."
"Oh... the duke. I have seldom heard you speak of him."
"That's because he's been out of the country most of my life. His wife, Honora, considers England too dull. I can only hope they will soon tire of the country and leave again."
Royal stopped short. "But he's your brother!"
"Yes, but he doesn't seem like a brother. You see, he is in his forties. My mother had him early in her marriage to my father. She almost died giving birth to him, I believe, which is why she waited so long before Preston and I were born." Lady Alissa rolled her eyes. "And wait until I present you to Honora. If there is a more unpleasant creature on this earth, I have not yet met her."
"What do you mean?"
Lady Alissa tugged on Royal's arm. "You'll see when you meet her."
Royal was not looking forward to that prospect. She stood close to her friend as they entered the enormous drawing room. The duke and duchess were seated before the window drinking tea, and they looked up as if annoyed at the intrusion.
"Well, don't stand there dawdling, Alissa. Come forward and introduce me to your friend," the duke said in a voice that clearly showed he wasn't interested.
Lady Alissa cast her eyes to the ceiling in exasperation. "This is Royal Bradford, Nathan. Royal, my brother and sister-in-law, the duke and duchess of Chiswick."
Royal curtsied, while quickly assessing the couple. The duke looked nothing like Lady Alissa or Lord Preston. His forehead was wide, his nose narrow. He was a head shorter than Lord Preston, and the look of boredom in his eyes did nothing to enhance his appearance in Royal's eyes. The duchess was slender, almost too much so. Her face was thin, her cheeks sunken. It was apparent she wore a wig, for it was elaborate and dressed so high it looked as if it would topple over the moment she turned her head.
"I am pleased to meet you," Royal said in a trembling voice. "Thank you for having me this summer."
"I understand you are from the Colonies," the duke said dryly. "I always knew that barbaric country would cause us grief. I told the king so, too."
Royal made no reply. There seemed to be nothing she could say.
"It is not we you should thank, Miss Bradford." The duchess covered a yawn with her hand. "Alissa had to have someone to keep her occupied, since her mother insists that she remain in the country for the summer. I will expect you children to be as inconspicuous as possible. And see that you do not intrude upon us without an invitation."
Royal stepped back a pace to stand beside Lady Alissa. Her friend moved to the table, chose a plump grape from a bowl, and popped it into her mouth. "Have no fear, we shall try to avoid you both whenever possible," she said airily. "Come, Royal, let us seek more suitable entertainment."
"Tiresome girl," the duchess declared to her husband. "It makes me glad we don't have children of our own."
Lady Alissa smiled at Royal and whisked her out of the room. "I warned you they weren't pleasant. Now that I have done my duty by them, let me show you the rest of Chiswick."
Royal nodded, only too glad to be away from the duke and duchess.
***
The sun had painted the western sky with a rosy glow as Royal and Lady Alissa sat in the garden sipping cool lemonade.
"Tell me more about your guardian, Royal. Is he married?"
"No, Damon Routhland is not married as of yet. But he would be, if the women of Savannah had anything to say about it."
"I believe you said he was young and handsome."
"Not so young. He's twenty-six... no, he would be twenty-seven now. But he is indeed handsome, and very kind."
Lady Alissa laughed merrily. "Royal, twenty-seven is not old for a man. I am betrothed to a man who is twenty-nine, and he isn't old at all."
Royal's eyes rounded in wonder. "Of course I know you are betrothed, but I didn't know he was... so... was... twenty-nine. Do you love him?"
"Yes, he is truly wonderful! I can't wait until we are married. We have been betrothed since I was twelve." Her eyes took on a tender glow. "I cannot remember a time when I didn't love Holden." Lady Alissa glanced back at her friend. "But enough about me. Tell me more about your guardian."
"It's hard to describe Damon Routhland, but he is wonderful, too. I have often regretted I was born too late for him to think of me other than as a child." Royal looked into Lady Alissa's soft gray eyes. "Have you ever wanted something so badly that it hurts?"
"Yes, I have," Lady Alissa said sadly. "My fondest wish was to walk for Holden. And now I can."
"He must be so pleased."
"Tell me, if you could have your fondest wish, what would it be?" Lady Alissa asked.
Royal was reluctant to voice her frivolous yearning. "My want is not as noble as yours—in fact, it is quite selfish. I merely wish to grow up to be very beautiful so Damon Routhland will notice me." She pursed her lips. "Of course, he is accustomed to having beautiful females trying to catch his eye. I can't think why he would ever notice me."
Lady Alissa studied Royal's features, noting her delicate bone structure. "I believe you may get your wish, Royal. I have little doubt that you will one day be a great beauty. My brother Preston thinks you are pretty."
"He does? Has he told you so?"
"No, but I can tell all the same."
"Is he also betrothed?"
"Yes, he is, but Preston is not as fortunate as I. He doesn't like his betrothed, Lady Alice Stratton, and keeps putting off their wedding. Of course, since Nathan and Honora have no children, Preston is heir presumptive to the dukedom, so he must marry well. Lady Alice's family is a very old and influential one."
"Why do you suppose your brother and his wife have no children?"
"She was with child several times, but they were always born dead. I suppose it is sad, but I don't think Honora would make a good mother." The setting sun cast a warm glow on Lady Alissa's face. "Tell me about your aunt. She sounds exciting."
