The Doxy and the Duke by Caroline Lee
Chapter 6
“Well,blow me down! Look at how well she cleans up!”
Raina’s friends gave various exclamations of joy when she stepped into Charity’s room for their habitual Friday evening pre-entertainment gathering, but Melanie’s was the funniest. Brushing down the skirts of her least-favorite gown, Raina scowled at her friend.
“Melanie, dear, yer American is showing through.”
Melanie didn’t seem to care, instead staring in what could only be mock amazement, her hand on her cheek. “You’re really coming to tonight’s ball?”
Clementine spoke over her, waving her dismissively as she helped Angeline perfect her coiffure. “No one will be surprised by a little Americanism now and then, least of all her Frank.”
“My Frank loves me exactly the way I am!” Melanie declared, whirling to scowl at Clementine, who waved cheekily. “We’re perfect partners.”
“In all ways,” murmured Olive suggestively, her nose mere inches from her book. She did, however, peer over the top of it to sweep Raina with a gaze. “Please don’t get her started.”
Since Olive was soon going to be Raina’s sister-in-law, she sent the shy woman a kind smile as she flopped down on the settee, not caring if she wrinkled her silk. “Believe me, friends, Melanie isnae the only one of ye lot who willnae cease prattling on about how in love she is!”
As this was met with laughter, Charity hummed loudly. “And you have not been waltzing about the manor, singing giddily?” She was peering at herself in a tall mirror, holding up first one necklace, then the other, as she tried to determine which one went the best with her lavender gown. “We have all been trying to determine which of the gentlemen has caught your eye.”
“Who says it’s a gentleman?” teased Raina.
Charity gasped and whirled around. “A lady? Raina Prince, surely you would have mentioned to us, your dearest friends, if you were canoodling with a lady?”
“Canoodling!” Melanie gasped happily. “Now who’s sounding like an American?”
“Perhaps she did not know she was attracted to other women until we all practiced kissing one another that winter before we finished school, remember?” called out Clementine.
“Or perhaps she just prefers canoodling to rowing or sailing—”
Olive interrupted the sometimes-dim-but-always-good-natured Angeline. “Not canoeing, Angel. Canoodling.”
As Raina rolled her eyes, Melanie waved them into silence. “I think she just means that the man who has caught her eye and made her so giddy—and don’t think we don’t notice you’re walking strangely this evening as well, Raina!—isn’t gentle at all.”
Oh dear. It had been a rather enthusiastic afternoon, and Raina was feeling a bit sore.
“You mean he’s a brute?” gasped Angeline.
Melanie clucked her tongue. “I mean he’s not a lord. I swear, you British and your obsession with titles! When any man is worth as much as the next—”
“Yes, yes,” interrupted Olive. “We all know Frank is a god among men, despite not holding a title.” When she pierced Raina with a steady gaze, it seemed as if her spectacles magnified the effect. “Is that it then? Your lover isn’t titled?”
Raina considered denying it, for all of a moment, before she relented and smiled. “I dinnae ken, honestly. I just ken him as a man, and he kens me as a woman, and we are quite well-suited.”
“Well-suited?” hummed Charity as she went back to examining her jewelry choices in the mirror. “Is that what we are calling it these days? In that case, allow me to mention how well-suited Wilton and I are.”
“And me and Rothbury!” exclaimed Angeline, patting her coiffure and turning to check herself in the mirror. “We go at it like rabbits!”
“What, with carrots and at a very young age?” Olive asked drily
Charity paused, one necklace suspended in midair, and burst into laughter. “I love how literal you are, Olive dear.”
“Well, at least I didn’t comment on Melanie’s blow me down.” Olive raised the book once more. From behind it came a mutter. “She sounds like a sailor.”
Melanie winked. “I don’t mind sailors at all, but I was just surprised to see Raina looking so gussied up. Normally she avoids these things.”
“This is true,” Charity called over her shoulder.
Raina sighed. “Go with the amethyst. It matches yer gown.”
“Are you certain it does not clash?” Charity frowned at her reflection thoughtfully.
But Clementine was nodding, along with the others. “The amethyst necklace is beautiful and will not detract from your beauty, darling. Unlike whatever alarming concoction Raina is wearing.”
Smiling happily, Raina fingered the elaborate embroidery on the skirt of her dark orange gown. “I ken,” she agreed. “Is it no’ hideous?”
“No,” Angeline assured her. “It’s a perfectly lovely gown and very much in style. Only…”
“Only the orange clashes with your hair,” Melanie said frankly. “What were you thinking?”
“I was thinking I’d do just about anything to look ridiculous tonight.”
Clementine made a soft, “Oh,” of realization. “Tonight is your dance with the duke, is it not? You could not avoid Miss Julia any longer?”
The chorus of corrections came from around the room. “Lady Fangfoss, dear!”
Raina’s smile turned to a grimace as her fingers tightened on the silk, not caring she was crushing it. “The blasted woman cornered me yesterday and told me I was insulting the ‘poor man’ by avoiding my turn. As if he’d want anything to do with me,” she snorted.
Sweet Angeline hurried to reassure her. “You are wonderful, Raina. Don’t let anyone make you think otherwise.”
“I dinnae think otherwise,” she assured her friend. “I ken I’m wonderful, but I have nae interest in marrying a man just because he’s a duke.”
“What if you fell in love with him?” asked Olive quietly.
Raina’s attention jerked back to her soon-to-be sister-in-law, and she sighed at Olive’s naiveté. “I ken ye all believe love to be a magnificent force,” she said quietly, moving her gaze around the room to encompass them all. “But ye also ken why I dinnae feel that way. If, in some strange twist of fate, I fall in love with a duke I’ve only danced with once, I still wouldnae allow anything to come of it.”
They all knew her history and knew why she felt that way.
Clementine smiled sadly. “And if he falls in love with you?”
After only one dance? The idea was so ridiculous, Raina had to chuckle. However, she rested back against the settee with the smug smile her friends expected.
“Well then, my dears, that would be different, would it no’?”
Her friends chuckled at her knowing look, as she’d hoped, and dropped the topic, as she’d planned.
“Do be careful to lock the case, Charity.”
Charity looked up from where she was placing the rejected pearl necklace away and nodded at Melanie’s reminder.
Raina frowned. “Ye’re no’ afraid of thieves, surely?”
“No, but Ewan—” Began Angeline, before being hushed by the rest of the women.
Feeling her eyes narrow, Raina sat forward. “But Ewan what?”
She held Angeline’s gaze, knowing the sweet woman would likely be the first to break.
She was right.
Angeline lowered her eyes, blushing. “He’s a sweet lad. High-spirited.”
“That he is,” Raina agreed. “Has he been naughty?”
With a sigh, Olive snapped her book closed. “Since they won’t tell you, I will. Ewan has been filching things.”
Raina clenched her hand into a fist. “Expensive things?”
“Oh no,” Charity hurried to assure her. “Just little knick-knacks. A portrait, a handkerchief.”
“Dorset has not stopped complaining about the loss of his favorite hat,” Clementine interrupted.
“I’d rather like to have my— Well, he’s taken something small of mine,” Melanie said.
“What?” Angeline asked innocently.
“Oh…just a small case.” Melanie gestured the approximate dimensions. “About this big. It was enameled with a scene, so I could understand why a small boy might be interested in it.”
“Ooh,” Angeline hummed in understanding. “Your cigarette case.”
Melanie blinked at their friend. “What? My— No, I don’t smoke,” she denied weakly.
But Clementine tsked. “Oh, don’t bother with the protests, Melanie. We all know you smoke.”
As Melanie tried to decide whether to deny it again, Raina was busy shaking her head.
“But Ewan wouldnae…” Raina trailed off, then closed her eyes on a sigh, remembering an afternoon in the library a few weeks back when her son had filched a pillow and book as he ran out. “He would, would he no’?” She rubbed at her temples, not caring what kind of mess she made of her coiffure. “But surely he’s returned the things? After all, he’s staying in the nursery. Surely I would’ve noticed an influx of men’s hats or new pillows—and the book!” Wide-eyed once more, she glanced around at her friends, hoping for some explanation. “He cannae even read a full book himself!”
One by one, her friends shook their heads or avoided her gaze. Only Olive met her eyes.
“I’m sorry, Raina. We don’t know what he’s doing with the things, but we’ve all seen him run up and snatch something. He even took a pair of my spectacles.”
“Aye, I believe it,” Raina agreed with another weary sigh. “I’ve seen him filch a book and a pillow. But I assumed he was hiding in the nursery with his stolen goods and Annie would return them to their rightful place.”
“I don’t think that’s happening,” Melanie said carefully. “In fact, my maid told me yesterday that the cook’s even been complaining because food has started going missing.”
“Food? Why would he take food?” Olive scoffed.
Clementine winced. “I do not know, but Dorset’s hat—”
“Oh, shush about the hat! Can’t you see how upset Raina is?” hissed Angeline.
Offering a weak smile, Raina shook her head. “Nay, ye have a right to be irritated. I cannae believe I havenae noticed…” She dropped her head into her hands, rubbing at her temples once more. “I’m a terrible mother,” she mumbled.
Suddenly, Charity was beside her on the settee, her hand on Raina’s back. “You are a wonderful mother. We would all be lucky to be mothers like you or have mothers like you. You have raised your son to believe in freedom, and I have never met a more cheerful little boy.”
Around the room, her fervent claim was met with murmurs of agreement.
Raina huffed slightly, more touched than she wanted to admit by her friends’ support. “Thank ye,” she whispered, then straightened, smiling weakly. “I love ye all.”
“And we love you,” Olive replied softly, squeezing next to Raina on the opposite end of the settee. “And we love Ewan. But it sounds as if he’s up to something rather mischievous.”
“I heard it was plum pudding that went missing,” whispered Melanie.
“Oh, hush!” Angeline hissed in return.
Charity squeezed Raina’s hand. “You spend so much time with the lad, it is hard to imagine when he would be able to get into trouble.”
Raina snorted. “Have ye met my son? Besides, I’m only with him part of the day.”
“Yes, but that is more time than most mothers spend with their children these days.”
Her friends were nodding along with Olive’s assessment.
Sighing, Raina took Olive’s hand in her free one, touched by the knowledge these women supported and loved her. “Thank ye. Although it’s clear it’s the hours each day I’m no’ with him that he’s getting into trouble. All this time I thought he was in the nursery with Annie, but clearly he’s off being mischievous. What is his nurse doing when she’s supposed to be watching over him?”
“Clearly not watching over him,” said Melanie drily.
Before Angeline could come to her defense again, Raina chuckled to show she agreed with her friend’s assessment. “I suppose I’m going to have to take the woman to task and find out when he’s been getting into this trouble—thieving—and why she’s allowed it. For that matter, she might ken where all these things are going.”
“See if you can find Dorset’s hat!”
They all laughed at that.
“What?” asked Clementine, affronted. “He’s still complaining about that stupid hat.”
“Aye, we’ll find the hat. And the spectacles, and those pillows…” Raina glanced around at her friends. “Perhaps ye can help me compile a list of the things he’s filched over the last weeks?”
“Of course.” Charity squeezed her hand again, comfortingly. “But not right now. Right now…” With a small grunt, she pulled Raina to her feet, and Olive followed as well. “Right now, we have to get you downstairs for your dance.”
Groaning, Raina pulled her hands free and rubbed at her temples again. “The stupid dance, aye. I cannae believe Twit is making me dance with a blasted duke when I should be seeing to my son.”
Chuckling at the unkind nickname for their favorite teacher, Melanie slid her arm around Raina’s middle. “Well, if it’s any consolation, you look just terrible.”
Raina burst into laughter and rested her head against her friend’s shoulder. “Aye, actually, it is. Thank ye.”
“Anytime, dear.”
One by one, her friends touched her hands or shoulders as they left the room, each showing her support and love silently. As they trooped down the hall and to the stairs, Raina allowed that love to buoy her and carry her along. Strangely, the revelation that Ewan was getting into trouble had been helpful; instead of dreading her foray into Society, she was busy thinking about the things which really mattered.
Her son.
Her son, whom she loved. Her son, whom she’d chosen when it came down to either being a mother or being in Society’s good graces.
Five years ago, she’d been a young lady, newly graduated from finishing school, with stars in her eyes, and she’d fallen in love with a gentleman whom she thought loved her in return. It had taken strength to decline his suit, knowing what Society would think of her… But when others had urged her to have the babe in secret and give him away to a good family, she’d rejected that plan.
Ewan was worth more to her than all the balls and musicales and fancy dresses and dances with dukes at house parties.
The last few weeks, the time spent with him and Matthew and Cash, had been worth more than the disdain she was sure to experience tonight. Tonight, when she danced with the stiff, snobbish duke her friends had all described, she’d wrap herself in the memory of being in Cash’s arms, and she’d be able to make it through.
After all, it was only one dance.
What could go wrong with only one dance?