Devil of a Duke by Kathleen Ayers
19
Lady Arabella Tremaine sipped her lukewarm tea and wished to be anywhere but at the Ladies Society for Orphans. Miranda, curse her, should be here suffering as well, but she’d begged off today's tea in order to attend some boring, dry lecture. Miranda simply adored lectures about ancient dead people who Arabella could have cared less about.
The hostess for today’s gossip mongering masquerading as an event to raise funds for parentless children was none other than Lady Tomlinson. Lady Tomlinson, bless her, wasn’t known for her kindness towards others, and certainly not orphaned children, but as the wife of the wealthy, highly respected, and elderly Lord Tomlinson, she was expected to show her support. The one thing Lady Tomlinson was known for was being the onetime paramour of Arabella's brother, Nick.
Most young ladies of Arabella’s age would be overcome with shock at such knowledge. But Arabella was no typical young lady. She was the sister of the Duke of Dunbar. Her brother had been a topic of gossip since their mother screamed upon seeing Nick’s eyes. Nick had continued to endear himself to the ton by running wild at Eton. Society still called he, Sutton and Lord Kilmare the “Wickeds.” Then, of course, there was the “accidental” death of her parents. The ton simply adored treason and suicide, especially when served up in a London town home complete with screaming servants and blood splattered walls.
Arabella glanced around the room and spied a nice overstuffed couch hidden partially behind a palm where she could sip her tea in peace.
It wasn't as if she didn't care about orphans, she did. She donated loads of money to various causes but didn't actually take part in any of the social niceties that went along with them. She detested ladies luncheons, having nothing to say to the vapid women of the ton, many of whom remembered her parents, as evidenced by the way they addressed Arabella with a look of spiteful pity in their eyes. Besides, she was in no mood for company, having had another row with her brother over his determination to marry that girl. Dear God, Arabella almost preferred Lady Petra to her cousin, Jane Emily.
"More tea?"
Arabella smiled politely to the servant. “No, thank you.” She took another sip. Ugh. Tepid and lacking a bit of taste. The tiny cakes being served even looked bland and dry, certainly she couldn’t hope to choke one of those down. She should have gone to the lecture with Miranda, at least they had decent tea at the Royal Exposition.
An older woman, her hair a faded red laced with gray, walked slowly past Arabella and stopped, nodding politely. “May I join you?”
Arabella tilted her head. “Of course, though you won’t be able to hear the proceedings from here. Lady Tomlinson will be taking the small podium up there.” She pointed to a small stand at the other end of the room.
"Oh, I’ve already made my donation and I’m just waiting for my daughter to collect me. She’s an avid supporter of the orphans.” The woman said in a dry tone, “Are you, my lady?”
“I try to be supportive of all those in need. It is my duty,” she replied politely, the practiced words slipping off her tongue with ease. She couldn’t place the woman beside her. Had they met before?
“A pretty speech.” The woman smiled wryly and munched on one of the cakes. “My, this is very,” the woman hesitated, “light.”
Arabella smiled over her teacup, beginning to enjoy her new companion. “Have we met? I am Lady Arabella Tremaine.” She inclined her head and waited for the inevitable gasp as the woman realized who Arabella was.
“It is my great pleasure to meet you. I am Lady Corbett. My daughter, Dorthea Jennings is just there,” she nodded towards a plump redhead in violet. She took another sip of her tea and wrinkled her nose. “Is this the usual way that tea is prepared? I’ve been gone from London for such a long time, but I don’t remember it tasting this way.”
“I don't make tea,” Arabella shot back. “I’ve absolutely loads of servants to do that sort of thing.” It amused her to say shocking things to people, something she and Nick had in common.
Ignoring Arabella’s rudeness, Lady Corbett gave a soft chuckle. “Forgive me, as I said, I’ve not been to London in ages and my daughter resides in Yorkshire, but you are related to the Duke of Dunbar? Perhaps his granddaughter? I heard he was at the Cambourne ball. I’m sorry to have missed him.”
“My grandfather passed away last year, Lady Corbett. It was my brother who attended the Cambourne ball. He is the current duke.”
The color drained from Lady Corbett’s face. Her teacup rattled against its flowered saucer. “Your brother?” She blinked rapidly.
Arabella tried to keep the polite smile on her face. Apparently, Lady Corbett was familiar withNick. “Yes, my brother.” Arabella tried to keep her tone bland waiting for Lady Corbett to give her a horrified look and suddenly pretend she needed to find her daughter.
Lady Corbett blinked once more, then took a deep breath. “I beg your pardon, Lady Arabella. Please accept my deepest sympathies on the death of your grandfather.” An embarrassed laugh escaped her lips. “I just assumed. I knew your mother, you see, we were friends.” She fanned herself and looked away. “It did not seem so long ago. Why, I’m quite embarrassed to have reminded you of your grandfather’s passing. I fear my only excuse is I have traveled much of late, and it has me feeling a bit rattled.”
A spurt of sympathy welled up inside of her for the woman, quite an unfamiliar feeling for Arabella. She did not suffer fools gladly, but the poor woman looked as if she would faint, for her face was deathly pale. “So you knew my mother? Where did you say you were from?” Arabella signaled a servant to bring more tea. Perhaps she should also ask for some smelling salts.
“Bermuda.” Lady Corbett’s lips were pulled into a thin, taut line.
“Bermuda?” Arabella lifted a brow, attempting to keep the distaste out of her voice, lest Lady Corbett think it was meant for her. “What an odd coincidence. My brother has betrothed himself to a girl from Bermuda.” She thought of those long months when Nick’s endless, horrible grieving for someone named Jem had Arabella and Aunt Maisy fearing he would drink himself to death. Her brother was finally past his grief when she showed up again and quite alive. Mysteriously. Her brother told her that he and Jemma had courted briefly in Bermuda and fell out over something too ridiculous to name. He later tried to find her and was told she’d died. Nothing about her brother’s story rang true for Arabella, and it made her all the more suspicious of Jemma. Nick was hiding something from her.
“Perhaps I know your brother’s betrothed?” Lady Corbett said quietly. “Bermuda is really a string of islands, and not so large as all of that. We only have one truly large city, Hamilton, where I reside. It is the capitol. My husband is governor. A wan smile crossed her lips. “At any rate, we all know each other.”
Arabella thought it all sounded rather provincial and not at all interesting. “I’m not sure which island, and I daresay I didn’t realize there was more than one. She’s only ever mentioned Bermuda. Her name is Jane Emily Grantly. Her family calls her Jemma. She is the niece of the Earl of Marsh. After her father passed away, she came to stay with her uncle. I believe her father was in trade of some sort, though I’m not sure what. I’m afraid I knew nothing about Bermuda until she became betrothed to my brother.” Arabella looked hungrily at the plate of small sandwiches a passing servant laid on the table before her. She was starving. The watercress looked particularly tasty. “Do you know her?”
Lady Corbett’s left eye twitched. “Jane Emily Grantly?” Her hands shaking, she set down her teacup with a clatter.
“Lady Corbett?” Arabella thought the woman had to be ill. Probably all the traveling back and forth from Yorkshire. Arabella detested Yorkshire. Everything was dark and dank and smelled of the moors. “Should I ask for your daughter?” Raising her hand, Arabella waved back the servant who’d brought the sandwiches.
“No.” Lady Corbett lightly touched Arabella's arm. “No.” She cleared her throat. “I’m just a bit shocked. I need to collect my thoughts.”
Arabella lowered her hand and nodded for the young servant girl to leave them alone. The skin on the back of her neck began to prickle, and she had the distinct impression Lady Corbett was going to tell her something she didn’t wish to hear.
“You see, my lady,” Lady Corbett said in a rush, her voice quaking, “I know Jane Emily. Quite well as it turns out.”
Arabella swallowed and regarded the woman patiently. “How do you know her my lady?”
Lady Corbett turned to Arabella. "She is betrothed to my son.”
