The Scoundrel Duke of her Heart by Violet Hamers
Chapter Nineteen
That night, dinner was as formal and quiet as usual. Jenny, thinking that she could not take another evening of this torture, came to a decision on the spur of the moment. She looked up at him from across the table and made an announcement. "I have invited Ernest and Daphne for dinner tomorrow."
"Hmm?" He looked up from his barely touched meal, distracted and scowling.
"Your cousin and my friend." She emphasized the words. "I invited them to have dinner with us tomorrow." Her grip on her fork tightened. It was all she could do to not shoot to her feet, cross over, grab him by the shoulders and shake him until he returned from wherever it was he seemed to be going off to in that head of his these days.
"Excellent," he responded.
“You are not going to say anything else?” she asked with some incredulity.
He glanced at her before tossing back his whiskey. “What do you want me to say, Jenny, when I have no objections?”
“You are not going to ask me my reason for inviting them?”
He shrugged. “They are both your friends and you are in want of their company.”
Jenny decided to spare herself the pain of continuing the conversation but then a question surfaced. “I am still unable to find my rocks.”
He suddenly began to cough and his hand went up to his throat. Jenny bolted to her feet and ran to him. “Give me some water,” she ordered the footman as she placed her hand on his back to soothe him.
He shut his eyes, trying to control his breathing while she moved her hand up and down his back. When he was calm enough, she gave him the water and he took a generous gulp.
“Are you all right?” she asked softly, moving her hand up his back to his collar before touching the hair at his nape.
“I,”—he cleared his throat—“I am well.” His tone was brusque once more and he moved away from her touch.
“I see.” Her hands dropped to her sides and she returned to her seat. She opened her mouth to ask him why he was being distant but closed it, changing her mind.
She did not want to look like she was pleading for his attention even though she had the right to. Keeping her poise grace and not appearing desperate and pathetic was important.
Immediately after the excruciating meal, Jenny retired to the library and drew sheets of parchment from her desk drawer, and began to pen notes to Ernest and Daphne. She had not actually invited them and had claimed to so she could gauge Nicholas’s reaction.
Sadly, Nicholas had been too cold to give her any reaction. She could swear he was becoming colder and detached by the day. It was as if he was no longer there with her.
* * *
“Good night, Your Grace,” Jenny said after clearing her dessert plate.
Every sensible part of him wanted to call her back, ask her to drink port with him, or spend some time in the library talking about geology, but it was better this way. The sacrifice he was making was for her. Certainly, he was failing at mending their friendship but perhaps in time, he will get the opportunity to do that.
“Good night, Jenny,” he mumbled after her. Then he touched his nape where her fingers had been, closing his eyes.
How he had missed her touch. How he wished he had allowed her to continue stroking his hair after his coughing fit. But that would mean another cold bath tonight and he was growing sick of them.
He walked to his study to work on estate matters. If only ice could numb his soul the way it numbed his body. “Your Grace?” came Ramsay’s voice at the study door.
“Yes? Come in.”
He walked in with a missive in hand. “This just arrived for you from Gloucester.”
Nicholas took it from him and broke the wax seal. It was from his Steward. “It’s from Mr. Anders. A storm has caused some damage on the property.”
“Is your presence required, Your Grace?” Ramsay asked, likely so he could begin packing if they were to travel.
“No, only a reply which I will write in the morning. You may go.”
“Of course, Your Grace. But permit me to compliment you on the show you put on in the dining room.”
Nicholas glared at him. “You are not a talking fool, are you?”
“No, Your Grace, but I was most impressed by your performance. We all were.”
“Go.”
“Will you be requiring a cold bath tonight?”
“No.”
Ramsay bowed and exited the room. If Jenny found out that his coughing fit had been a lie, she would make him regret ever touching her rocks.
* * *
"How glad I am you could come tonight," Jenny hugged her friend in the front vestibule. "And forgive me for the late invitation."
“You know I cannot ignore your invitation. Besides, I have everything to gain by coming tonight.” She leaned in to whisper, her eyes glittering in the candlelight, “Mr. Brighton is here.”
Jenny had mentioned in her note that Ernest would be there even though she had not been certain that he would be. She knew of Daphne’s inclination and intended to encourage them.
“The gentlemen are in the drawing room,” Jenny said. “Come.”
They had barely taken a step in the direction of the drawing room when the double doors opened again and the dowager walked in, the metal tip of her cane clicking against the marble floor.
"Thank you for the invitation, Jennifer," she said with a twist of her mouth and a quirk of a brow eyeing Daphne as Bentley collected her coat. "How very thoughtful of you, my dear."
"You are welcome, Your Grace," Jenny responded courteously, returning her sarcasm. She was slightly displeased by her turning up uninvited but she pinned a tight smile onto her face and held the dowager’s gaze, unwavering. Daphne dipped into a perfunctory curtsy then, her curious gaze traveling between the cold exchange.
"I told you I am watching." The dowager followed that statement with a click of her cane against the floor before preceding them into the drawing room.
Nicholas, whose countenance had been that one of mild amusement, tensed when the dowager walked in and that countenance darkened. “What a pleasant evening we are going to have,” the dowager announced and lowered herself into a chair. “Fetch me something to drink, Ernest.”
"You invited her?" Nicholas whispered to Jenny when he reached her side.
She was about to respond in the negative when she remembered what he had made her endure all week. Perhaps it would bring her some satisfaction if she could get back at him for ignoring her. Watching him struggle to tolerate the dowager’s unwanted presence for an evening would be most delightful, indeed.
"Yes,” she responded cheerily, satisfaction washing over her. "Now smile and try to be present for this dinner, at least. We have guests."
He groaned and she almost laughed. Daphne ran a hand over the polished pianoforte, inciting Ernest, who had been watching her since exchanging greetings that evening, to ask, "Do you play, Miss Bexley?"
"With the right incentive, yes." She cast her gaze down demurely. "I could even sing."
“I do not need my hearing ruined, thank you very much,” the dowager interjected from her seat.
"If it will keep you quiet and get you out of people's business," Nicholas turned to his grandmother, "then, by all means, Miss Bexley, entertain us." He grinned at Daphne. "On second thought," he whispered to Jenny again, “I don’t think the evening is going to be all that bad."
"How about this, Miss Bexley," Ernest began, “I play and you sing. That way, there will be no debts."
“Agreed, Mr. Brighton.”
He sat at the pianoforte while she stood next to him. Ernest played well and Daphne’s voice was divine. “I had not the slightest inkling she could sing so well,” Nicholas murmured, glancing at his grandmother who appeared to be pleased by the music.
“Is that disappointment I hear in your voice, Nicholas?”
“Maybe. She seems too pleased with their performance.”
Jenny touched his arm. “The next time you count on punishing her with music, be sure the performers are without talent.”
“You should be on my side, Jenny.”
She opened her mouth to tell him that he had not been on her side when she needed him but Bentley appeared in the doorway. “Your Grace,” he said and Jenny, Nicholas, and the dowager all perked up. Seeing that, he cleared his throat. “His Grace’s presence is required.”
Jenny thought he had come to announce dinner and she wondered what required Nicholas’s attention this evening. She had been feeling like a stranger in a home that was supposed to be hers and that feeling enveloped her again as the memory of hushed conversations between her husband and the servants in the past days surfaced.
Having endured enough of it, she made a note to talk to Nicholas about it. She was mistress of this house and the Duchess of Seaton. She was owed an explanation, at the very least. While Daphne and Ernest were occupied at the pianoforte, Jenny approached the dowager.
"Such perfect harmony," Jenny observed and the dowager immediately straightened, making a show of disliking the music. "I never saw two people more complementing of each other."
"And I have never seen such obvious attempts at matchmaking,” the dowager said. "But then amateurs are not versed in the art of subtlety." She turned to regard Jenny.
As Jenny had harbored the idea of making a match of Daphne and Ernest since before her own wedding, she did not pose an argument. Instead, she said, "From what I am witnessing, though, I might not need to do too much."
"If that were true, then you would not be here right now, looking hopeful,” she countered. "You need my help. But you are too proud to admit it."
Jenny laughed. “You believe yourself an expert matchmaker, duchess?”
“Indeed. I matched you and Seaton, did I not?” She looked almost proud of her efforts.
“I will beg to differ.”
“Because the two of you are too stubborn to allow nature to take its course. Now, back to those two. You will need my help, although I must tell you that I do not entirely approve of them together."
"Pity," Jenny mused, "Seaton and Hanover are united but one can never be too secure in this day and age. I thought you were an advocate for reinforcement." She carefully watched her grandmother-in-law's thoughtful features as she digested her words.
The dowager chuckled. "My confidence in you grows, Jennifer."
"Is that a compliment?" Jenny chortled.
"You're right," the dowager continued, ignoring her question, "I have not been looking past her father's scandals. Nicholas could do with more clout. A dukedom can never have too much influence.” Her gaze was on Daphne and Jenny could see the woman changing her mind.
"It is settled, then. We shall make a match of them.” Jenny grinned. She had something to keep her occupied, fortunately.
"You see that boy?" The dowager pointed with her cane in Ernest's direction. "He is more stubborn than a bull and a mule combined.”
“I know that.”
“You have some work to do. I have double." Her gaze did a slow appraisal of Jenny now. "Nothing has changed about our initial plan, of course. Just follow my instructions and we shall have a squealing infant and more wedding bells soon."
