Carole Mortimer - Regency Scandal

‘Then what sort of lady would you say that you are?’

She eyed him suspiciously, but could read nothing from his enigmatic expression as he relaxed back against the seat opposite her. ‘The ton would have you believe—’

‘And I am sure I have already made clear my own opinion of what the ton may or may not choose to believe or say, in regard to yourself or anyone else.’ He gave a dismissive gesture with one long and elegant hand.

Pandora moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. ‘I am afraid I don’t understand the question when my own opinion of myself must obviously differ greatly from that of others.’

‘Why obviously?’ He frowned. ‘The ton believes me to be arrogant and proud, and something of a rake with the ladies, and I can find no argument with that opinion.’

She smiled at this blunt self-appraisal. ‘But you are so much more than that, are you not?’

His brows rose. ‘Am I?’

Pandora nodded. ‘This evening you have been both chivalrous and kind.’

‘I would advise you not to attribute me with virtues I do not, nor would ever wish, to possess,’ he warned.

She shook her head in gentle rebuke. ‘I have every reason to know you to be both those things after the manner in which you … dispensed so effortlessly with Lord Sugdon’s unwanted attentions towards me earlier tonight.’

The Duke’s mouth thinned. ‘And if I were to tell you that my actions had very little to do with you? That my mood this evening was already such that I merely welcomed the opportunity to hit someone? Anyone? For whatever reason!’

Recalling the content of this man’s earlier conversation with the Earl of Sherbourne, Pandora had some idea as to the reason for the Duke’s bad humour. ‘I would then say that the reason you acted in the way that you did was irrelevant, when it resulted in my rescue.’

Rupert looked quizzically across at her. ‘And, if I may be allowed to say so, Pandora Maybury, I find you are not at all as the ton describes you.’

She laughed musically. ‘Oh, you may certainly say it, your Grace—’

‘Rupert.’

Her humour instantly ceased, her expression now one of uncertainty. ‘I beg your pardon?’

He regarded her beneath hooded lids. ‘I believe I should like to hear you call me Rupert.’

She sat as far back on the bench seat as possible. ‘I could not possibly address you in so familiar a manner, sir.’

‘Why not? You are a Duchess, I am a Duke, therefore we are social equals. Or are you already so awash with friends that you have no need of another?’ Rupert added with cutting humour.

That slender throat moved convulsively as she swallowed before answering huskily, ‘You must know that I am not.’

Yes, Rupert had already observed this evening that the only members of the ton who now bothered with her company were gentlemen who obviously had so much more than friendship in mind. Men like Sugdon. ‘Our hostess, and her friend the Duchess of Woollerton, appear to value your friendship.’

Pandora’s expression softened. ‘They have both been kind enough to bestow that friendship upon me these past few weeks, yes.’

‘So it has been commented upon.’

She looked across at him sharply. ‘I trust not to their detriment?’

‘Would it bother you if it were?’ he asked curiously.

‘Of course.’ She gave every appearance of being agitated, her face flushed, her lace-gloved fingers now tightly gripping the cloak about her. ‘I should not like to be the cause of either of those dear ladies being cut by certain members of society.’

‘As you are yourself?’ he pressed.

‘Yes,’ she acknowledged quietly.

He shrugged. ‘I am sure both those ladies are of an age and confidence to choose their own friends. As am I,’ Rupert added huskily.

Pandora eyed him warily. ‘But we are not friends, your Grace, merely new acquaintances.’

‘That is no reason to suppose that, with time, we might not become more than that.’

Rupert studied her shrewdly. ‘Tell me something of your marriage to Maybury.’

She looked startled at his abrupt change of subject. ‘For what purpose?’

‘It is a natural curiosity, surely, considering the method of his demise?’ Rupert said.

‘I see nothing natural about it, your Grace.’ Her chin was raised proudly.

He gave an elegant shrug. ‘That is possibly because you are too close to the subject.’

Her eyes flashed darkly. ‘How should I be any other, when Barnaby was my husband?’

‘And was it a love match? On Maybury’s part, at least, one might presume it was.’ He looked thoughtful.

Pandora frowned. ‘As is the case with many in the ton , ours was an arranged marriage.’

‘But happy? At least, initially?’ he asked.

Not even initially!

It had become apparent to Pandora, almost immediately their marriage took place, that Barnaby had only married her because he required a young, and therefore malleable, wife for him to escort during the Season and to act as mistress in his many homes, both here in London and in the country. A wife who would not attempt to interfere in the way in which he chose to conduct his own life; having expressed no deep and passionate love for Pandora before their marriage, Barnaby had made it clear he considered it unreasonable of her to expect him to feel that way about her once they were husband and wife.

After much internal soul-searching, Pandora had realised she had no choice other than to accept this loveless marriage as being her lot in life. And if that acceptance had meant putting aside all of her girlish hopes and dreams of love and a grand passion in her marriage, then that was surely her own disappointment to bear, and no one else’s.

She certainly did not intend to now share any of the details of that disappointment with the haughty and mocking nobleman in front of her, despite his insistence on asking her probing questions!

‘We appear to have arrived at my home, your Grace,’ Pandora realised thankfully. She sat forwards eagerly with the intention of alighting from the now-stationary carriage as the groom hurried to open the door for her. ‘Once again, I am grateful to you for coming to my aid this evening.’

‘I will call upon you tomorrow.’

‘For what purpose?’ Pandora, having just stepped down from the carriage, now turned sharply.

The Duke’s teeth flashed a white smile in the moonlight as he stepped down beside her. ‘Why, for the purpose of assuring myself as to your having fully recovered from this evening’s ordeal, of course.’

There was no ‘of course’ or anything else about it, where this arrogant and disdainful gentleman was concerned. Nor did she wish for Rupert to call on her tomorrow or any other time.

She suspected, despite their efforts for it to be otherwise, that the news of the cloaked lady leaving Sophia’s ball this evening in the Duke of Stratton’s carriage, would be all over London by the morning, without adding to that gossip by him being seen calling at her house the following day!

‘I assure you I am already fully recovered, thank you, your Grace.’

‘Nevertheless, having rescued you, I now feel honour-bound to call upon you tomorrow to assure myself of your well-being,’ he insisted.

Pandora looked up at him with frustration, very aware that he had only moments ago denied the existence of any such finer feelings in regard to his character, but at the same time aware of the restraint put upon her answer by the presence of the quietly attentive groom. Just because the man gave every appearance of being totally deaf to their conversation did not mean that he was not listening and remembering every word they spoke, in order that he might relay that gossip to the Duke’s other servants once released from his duties later tonight.