Page 2 of A Duke in Autumn

The Duke of Kilmerstan had married a great, great-niece of Lady Bellinghaugh’s, from the other side of the family, and therefore Lady Bellinghaugh had suggested the house to them.

The day after his arrival, when he had wandered into the large garden behind the house, he had seen, over the fence, a young woman walking in the garden of that next-door house. Intrigued, despite himself, he had dropped onto a bench and simply watched her. She was dark haired – a rich red brown that the sun struck fiery highlights from - and slender, not overly tall, and elegant in her movements. She was not classically beautiful, but was striking nonetheless. Her attire was fashionable, without being excessive in any way. There was nothing exceptionable about her at all. Yet she drew his eye. She had wandered the garden paths, then taken a seat on a bench not far from the fence, which faced towards him. He had waited until she settled, then risen, and gone to lean upon that fence, which was chest high for him. They had not been introduced, but that had not worried Morris – he made a habit of defying the expectations and rules of propriety.

“Lady Eugenia, I presume?”

Her head had snapped up, her eyes had met his. She had regarded him with dark blue eyes full of shock. It was quite obvious that she did not know what to do, when a man she had not been introduced to addressed her. He had laughed.

“Have I shocked you, Lady Eugenia? Let me introduce myself – I am Morris Woodfield, Duke of Oakthorpe. Lady Bellinghaugh is my great great-aunt. It was she who informed me of the identity of our neighbours. Can we regard that as a formal introduction of sorts?”

She had blinked and almost stuttered, attempting to deal with the situation graciously.

“Your Grace.”

Then she had risen, and delivered a magnificent curtsey, worthy of court. He had waved a hand.

“Please, resume your seat. This is not a ballroom, to require such formality. And, for the nonce, we are neighbours – can we not have a quiet conversation over the garden fence, on a pleasant autumn afternoon, without resorting to that stultifying rigidity which characterises most conversations amongst the ton?”

Her deep blue eyes had regarded him uncertainly. It seemed that informality was not something she found easy. In the end, she had not resumed her seat, but had curtseyed again, a blush rising to her cheeks.

“I am afraid, Your Grace, that I must return to my mother. It has been a pleasure to meet you.”

Her words had been perfect and perfectly polite – yet he was quite certain that they were an excuse, and that she felt utterly incapable of informal conversation with a man, over a garden fence. He had bowed, smiling.

“I hope to see you again soon, Lady Eugenia.”

She had barely nodded, and had scurried away back to the house, and he could not help but admire her figure as she’d walked away. He had thought then that it seemed he had a challenge to amuse himself with, whilst he stayed in Bath.

So be it.

Now, as she walked away from him again, in the Pump Rooms, he was no less intrigued by her. Unwed young ladies normally sought his attention, rather than avoiding it. Yet this was the third or fourth time that they had met, and, each time, her reaction had been the same – acute formality, and the rapid disguising of an expression which he could only interpret as annoyance. Which fact only made him want to annoy her more, in the hope that her prefect façade might crack, and allow him to see the real woman beneath it.

He sighed, and turned away. He would persist – he could be damnably stubborn when he wanted to – and he would crack that shell yet. And enjoy the process – it was as good as any use of his time, while in Bath. There must be things she cared about, things she was interested in, which might allow him to garner a reaction other than frosty politeness – he just needed to discover what they were. And then devise a way to tempt her, using them, into being something other than society’s definition of perfect.

~~~~~

All through the afternoon’s conversation whilst they took tea with her mother’s friends, Eugenia found herself distracted. Her mind refused to leave alone the thoughts created by the Duke’s final words to her in the Pump Rooms. What did he imagine, when he spoke of leading her astray? She was sure that he had specifically intended to leave her discomposed in exactly this way, that he would take delight in knowing that he had left her indulging in wild imaginings. And wild they were. For no matter how she tried to be good, and to only think proper things, her mind went back to the ideas of enjoyment, and adventure, and being led astray, all at once.

Which was enough to make her feel flushed, overheated, and flustered. Only one conclusion could she draw from that combination – and it involved kisses in dark corners, and more. Imaginary kisses in which her mind stubbornly cast him as the man delivering those kisses to her. Which was preposterous! He annoyed her – why would she let him kiss her? Well, apart from the fact that he was sinfully handsome, and well knew it.

She was sure that those golden eyes of his missed nothing, and saw everything as having been created for his personal amusement. It was insupportable! She refused to think of him anymore!

Instead, she forced herself to concentrate on the conversation around her – which was fortunate timing, for at that moment, her mother had turned to her with a question.

“Won’t that be delightful, Eugenia? A picnic up on the Downs. Lady Easterwood assures me that the view from that spot is magnificent.”

“Of course Mama. A picnic will be lovely.”

It probably would be – Eugenia generally enjoyed such genteel activities. However, she did wonder who else might have been invited – for her mother’s campaign to place before her every eligible man in the region was a force to be reckoned with – and made Eugenia certain that at least three gentlemen of suitable character were sure to be invited to any picnic.

The Dowager Duchess turned back to the other ladies, and they settled into detailed planning. Eugenia, despite her earlier resolution, found her thoughts back at the Duke of Oakthorpe.

Chapter Two

“Picnics provide so much opportunity, don’t they? Walks in secluded spots with suitable gentlemen…. sitting far closer than normal on a picnic blanket… the ‘accidental’ exposure of an ankle, as one sits or rises from the ground…”

Lady Annet Chalmers smiled as she spoke, an expression reminiscent of a cat regarding a bowl of cream. Eugenia’s expression was more one of shock at her new friend’s words. They were comfortably settled in the small private parlour attached to Annet’s bedchamber, a tray with tea and an assortment of sweet biscuits on the table before them.

Annet’s family owned the townhouse adjacent to the one that Eugenia’s mother had taken for their time in Bath, on the other side from the one owned by Lady Bellinghaugh. Upon discovering that Eugenia was of an age with her, Lady Annet had immediately invited her to visit, excited to have someone new to talk to.