Page 4 of An Innocent Bride for the Duke

“Well, let us hope His Grace’s horse has not thrown a shoe,” Lady Esher remarked tartly, Louisa discerning that her aunt was less than impressed with this early display of tardiness. “Certainly let us hope that his horses are not in the habit of throwing shoes.”

If there was one thing Aunt Beatrice did not like, it was unpunctuality. If there were a second, it would be unreliability. The Duke of Northwick was presently in danger of being found guilty on both charges.

Having never met him nor even heard of him, Louisa could not say how fair this judgement might be. Her aunt had been very circumspect in all that she had said of this man so far, leaving Louisa with the strong impression that Lady Esher knew more of the Duke of Northwick than she was willing to reveal.

Before Louisa could begin to wonder further on this point, the sound of hoofbeats became audible, approaching at a gallop from somewhere to the east.

“Aha, that will be Benedict now,” remarked the Duke of Wexford with a smile. “We should forgive him a few minutes lateness.”

Benedict?! At the mention of this name, Louisa gasped as her heart leapt and her eyes swiveled quickly in the direction of the approaching hooves. Seconds later, a fine white stallion burst out of the nearby woodland and galloped straight up to the house. Its rider was a tall, dark and handsome man with a firm jaw and steady expression. Briefly, Louisa thought she might faint.

Then, horse and rider came sharply to a halt in a cloud of dust that had the whole party coughing and spluttering. By the time the man had swung himself down from the saddle and bowed his head before the two visitors, Louisa’s first swooning reaction had been superseded by annoyance.

“Benedict, what in the world are you thinking?!” Damien exclaimed hoarsely, gesturing for the nursemaids to take the children away into the clean air of the gardens.

“Let us go inside,” said Lady Esher, spluttering into her handkerchief and taking the arm that Damien offered. “It is not long since I had the influenza.”

Seraphine took her husband’s other arm, tutting audibly at the newcomer.

Seconds later, only Louisa remained on the drive, facing the man who had created such thoughtless havoc. Poor Aunt Beatrice! Her physicians had told her that she must take care of her health and breath clean. Louisa had taken her aunt walking every day in the parks while they were in London, afraid of the city’s smog, even in the affluent area around Esher House.

“I hope you are going to apologize to Lady Esher,” she said rather severely and saw his face crease in astonishment.

“Apologize?” he queried. “For the dust? It has been a dry day and I could not help what Apollo’s hooves threw up. I might talk to my horse but I doubt he would listen to me…”

Was this man teasing her? Did he think it a joke?!

“You might have dismounted over there, rather than riding right onto the drive,” Louisa berated him with uncharacteristic crossness. “My aunt has been unwell and the dust could irritate her lungs very badly.”

This man who shared a name with her fictional hero seemed to be staring at her non-plussed and briefly Louisa stared back, scarcely knowing why. She had never seen a man with one eye green and the other blue before, and the sight was fascinating, she supposed.

“Nor did Apollo know that your aunt had been ill, or at least if he did, he had forgotten, in the moment,” he finally said, excusing himself with a handsome smile that might have been positively charming at another time but absolutely infuriated Louisa now.

“Do you mock me? I think that most ungentlemanly of you,” she chided.

For a moment, he seemed lost for words but then he looked at her with a slightly harder, more knowing gaze.

“Some might say that it was rather unladylike to stand outside scolding a duke to whom one has not even been properly introduced,” he pointed out.

“Are you two coming in?” called out Seraphine from the doorway as Louisa looked away biting her lip. “I must show Louisa and Aunt Beatrice their rooms.”

Had she been rude? Had she let her temper run away with her? As he had just reminded her, this man was a duke and his rank far exceeded Louisa’s as the daughter of an earl.

“I can only apologize, Your Grace,” she offered, dropping a rather stiff curtsey. “I should not have called you ungentlemanly.”

“I have been called far worse,” the Duke of Northwick returned cheerfully, apparently not thinking to offer any apology of his own. “Likely, it was all merited.”

To her further dismay, the duke now offered Louisa his arm, and despite her conflicting feelings towards this odd nobleman, she felt compelled to take it, walking into Wexford Manor at his side, her pulse throbbing strangely in her veins.

After escorting Louisa to the side of Seraphine and Lady Esher, he bowed and withdrew, leaving her flushed and speechless with her relatives. Louisa saw an amused glance pass between her aunt and cousin and blushed more deeply, imagining that they had overheard her railing at the duke like a fishwife.

She was sorry for losing her temper but really did think that the duke might have shown more consideration rather than almost charging onto the drive and stopping so abruptly. Hopefully, no one would take her to task for her lapse in manners.

“Come,” said Aunt Beatrice, taking Louisa’s arm and following after Seraphine who was already on the staircase. “Let us go upstairs and freshen up before luncheon.”

“I am sorry, Aunt Beatrice,” Louisa apologized humbly. “I was so angry outside when the Duke of Northwick raised all that dust and I heard you coughing. Still, he should have been more careful… Oh, Seraphine, I apologize to you too, for he is your guest, and is to be our escort. I hope this will not ruin our journey together.”

“Not at all,” laughed Seraphine, to Louisa’s surprise. “His Grace, the Duke of Northwick does not stand on ceremony. Likely, he respects you all the more now for being one of the rare people to hold him to account. He gets away with far too much…”