Page 21 of A Duke in Autumn

Lady Bellinghaugh broke in, her tone amused as she finished the Dowager Duchess’ sentence.

“…that she might have found a gentleman to suit and made a good match whilst you were here?” Lady Eugenia made a small movement – something surprisingly like a cringe, and Morris could only sympathise. But Lady Bellinghaugh went on, merciless, “I thought as much. Your quite reasonable expectations are no different from those of Oakthorpe’s mother. I do believe that she hoped I might surround him with eligible women whilst he was here, until he chose one just to achieve respite from the introductions. She has, of course, been disappointed in her hopes, also.”

Morris met Lady Eugenia’s eyes.

Something passed between them – a common understanding of frustration, perhaps. He felt a sudden mad impulse to take her hand, to pull her to her feet, and run from the room with her – to go somewhere, anywhere, where others’ expectations would not affect them. Instead, he smiled wryly, and responded to his Aunt.

“Mother really should know by now that I will make my own choice, and marry when I am ready, and not one day before.”

“She should, for you’ve always been a stubborn one. But surely, when you have such a suitable young lady right beside you, you must at least consider the idea?”

Morris positively glared at his Aunt, all the while holding the smile on his face. Damn her! She knew exactly what she was doing, the provocative woman, and knew also that he would grit his teeth and be polite, whilst they were in company.

“But, my dear Aunt, whether I am tempted or not, such a thing is a decision for two people, not one. I would not like to wed a woman who did not wish it, after all. If you imply that I should focus my attentions on Lady Eugenia, then she should most certainly speak up, and offer her opinion on the matter. I might be, for all you know, the very image of everything she despises in a man.”

Lady Bellinghaugh and the Dowager Duchess exchanged a look, which was rather freighted with annoyance, if he read it aright. Lady Eugenia, however, had issued a small strangled sound at his words.

Chapter Ten

From the moment that they had walked into Lady Bellinghaugh’s parlour, he had been intentionally provoking her. Again. The man really was insufferable. Devastatingly handsome, enough to make her heart race and her breath come short, but still insufferable.

And as if the early part of the conversation had not been bad enough, with him asking about modistes and gowns again, what he had just said quite took her breath away. It was, at least in part, Lady Bellinghaugh’s fault, for suggesting the idea, albeit a little indirectly, but he had just taken the inappropriateness of it to spectacular heights. The only mitigating thing about it was that he had, whilst cheerfully suggesting that he should pay his attentions to her, just because his mother and Lady Bellinghaugh thought he needed a wife, actually had the courtesy to point out that such things required two interested parties. And that she was actually entitled to have her own opinion on the matter.

Rather a progressive attitude for a man.

And now he was looking at her, obviously waiting for her to react. That last part of it, though, was a most shameless appeal for flattery – for he had suggested that he might be everything she despised in a man – and therefore, politeness required her to deny that, to say some inane flattering thing about him, to soothe his sensitivities. She didn’t want to.

That rebellious seed which he had planted in her thoughts had grown, tenaciously, and by now was better described as a whole garden of rebellious thoughts. And his eyes were laughing at her, again.

“Your Grace, it would be very poor form of me indeed to imply that you embodied characteristics which I despise, even should that be true. Let me assure you that my opinion of you is not so low as you suggest, by any means, but I will not say more, for anything further could be interpreted, should you choose to do so, as flattery.”

His smile widened, as if he was delighted with her answer, and, despite herself, she felt a glow of warmth build inside her.

“My, Lady Eugenia, I feel myself somewhat damned with faint praise at this moment, if you will excuse the term. I must console myself with the fact that, at least, it seems that not all of my characteristics are despicable in your eyes. In the spirit of fair exchange, let me say that there is nothing about your characteristics for me to despise either. I could wax lyrical about your charms, but I suspect that you would be sceptical of too fulsome a commendation.”

Lady Bellinghaugh looked as if she might laugh aloud at any moment, but the Dowager Duchess wore a long-suffering expression, which Eugenia recognised.

She would, almost certainly, receive a lecture on the impolite and inappropriate nature of her comments, as soon as they got home. Surprisingly, she didn’t care – it was worth it, to have surprised him.

“I shall take your comments as positive, then, Your Grace. Shall we turn this conversation away from our personal characteristics, and back to the subject of when we each might be leaving Bath?”

“Indeed, that is probably wise. I intend to stay here for at least another few weeks – for the Ball, and a little after. But past that point, I will need to return to Oakthorpe Grange, and the round of activities leading up to Christmas, all of which my mother has no doubt planned in excruciating detail, to ensure that I meet eligible women.”

Eugenia found that she did not like the idea of him being confronted by a parade of eligible women – why the idea rankled so, she was not certain.

“We will be here until after the Ball as well – no exact date has yet been set for our return to Kilmerstan Castle. I do not think that our next few months will be as busy as yours, however, for my sister-in-law is increasing, and may wish a quiet Christmas.”

At that point, the Dowager Duchess spoke up, with some irritation in her voice.

“Even with Juliana increasing, I am certain that we will manage a few opportunities for you to meet eligible gentlemen.”

Eugenia sighed, and the Duke flashed her a sympathetic look.

“Yes Mother.”

Eugenia left it at that, and was greatly relieved when her mother decided that they had tarried long enough, and rose, thanking their hostess, and preparing to leave. The Duke bowed over her hand again, and the warmth of his touch made her quiver, but she ignored the sensation, and hurried after her mother.

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