The King's Doll Read online

  The Duke glanced around him at the rest of the dancers in their group. Mercifully, none of them had caught the low-voiced remark. The Duke realized that he would have to have a serious talk with this little opportunist, but he also knew that she would probably give him an argument if he cautioned her. He could almost hear her saying, “But everyone calls it the Marriage Mart! Surely they understand why they are coming here!” Exhaling a longsuffering sigh, he waited for the next quiet moment when they stood together to whisper a warning. “You must watch your tongue, Tiri! An incautious remark can blast your whole career! You are supposed to be engaged to me!"

  He was rewarded by a suddenly worried look on the girl's face, and wondered why he felt guilty. Surely it was safer to be circumspect than sorry. As the dance continued, the girl's infectious gaiety made their group the most observed of any on the floor, but the apprehensive nobleman could not fault her manners or her choice of comment. With exasperation he became aware that his little vixen was in a fair way to becoming the Belle of the Ball. A series of noblemen requested permission to lead her out, but her youthful charm did not degenerate into smug complacence or vainglory at her signal success. Instead she remained modest, charmingly grateful for the attention bestowed upon her, and remarkably self-possessed.

  Dani felt the thrill of triumph. Even the Duchess unbent sufficiently to mention the child's pretty behavior, although she ended with the gloomy prediction that it would soon disappear under the flattering attentions of London's most eligible bachelors.

  “She would have to have a level head to remain unmoved by that one's gallantries,” she indicated the young Earl of Swanden, leading Tiri out for the second time. “Had you not better warn her that while two dances are acceptable, a third with the same partner is too particular for good breeding?"

  “She knows it,” said Dani softly, and was proven correct by Tiri's firm but gentle refusal of the third offer from the young nobleman.

  At this point the Duke of Lansdale appeared again and calmly informed Tiri that all the rest of her dances, including the supper dance, were to be his. “But I must not!” breathed the girl, thrilled that the handsomest man in the hall wished to be her partner. “Maman says, never more than two—"

  “I am your fiancé,” stated the Duke incontrovertibly, but he spoiled it by adding, “In case you had forgotten, in your rush of popularity."

  Tiri would have pouted had she not known that many eyes were upon them. Instead she nodded and whispered, under the guise of a sweet smile, "I had not forgotten it. I thought you had."

  The Duke's clasp on her arm tightened, but he forbore to rebuke her pertness. As he led her to the supper table, he said gently, “The sapphires become you, Tiri. They match your bright eyes."

  Since this was the first admiring speech he had ever made to her—to say nothing of using her pet name for the first time—the girl glowed and opened under the warmth of his words. The Duke being a competent maneuverer, they found themselves soon after seated at a small table with full plates of goodies before them.

  “It is not much,” said the Duke as he gloomily surveyed the combination of small sandwiches, dry biscuits, buttered tea cakes. Tiri, too hungry to be critical, was absorbing the morsels on her plate with ladylike gusto. The Duke grinned at her.

  “My mother keeps you on short commons, does she not? You would not otherwise be so greedy for these wretched scraps. Try the ratafia! That is perfectly acceptable for a young lady, and much to be preferred to cold tea."

  This seemed to her a witty remark, and she laughed softly, her eyes bright and her lovely face flushed with pleasure. Lady Jersey, who could be kind enough if the whim took her, was pleased to come and compliment the little newcomer whom she had hardly noticed when the chit had been presented to her earlier.

  “This is a pretty little fledgling you have snared yourself, Lansdale,” she said, and she smiled at the handsome man who had risen to greet her approach. “I understand congratulations are in order?” She bestowed a smile upon the dazzled girl. “Yes, she should suit very well, sir. A charming ornament to your House.” Lady Jersey drifted off to tell one of her bosom bows that that child would scarcely furnish a mouthful for the Duchess, and she pitied the little French waif.

  Quite unaware of any need to regret her situation, Tiri was basking in the exciting, if temporary, approval of her pseudo fiancé. Thirstily she finished her glass of ratafia.

  “This is delicious!” she said, beaming at her partner. “Do you suppose I might have another glass?” The Duke elevated an eyebrow. “Of ratafia? Well, I suppose so, if you like the stuff.” He rose from their table to get her a second glass. Tiri's gaze followed his tall, splendid figure as he lounged over to the buffet. Surely shoulders were never so broad under dark green velvet! Nor legs so sturdy and powerful in white satin breeches, which were de rigueur for Almacks'! She knew a quick fierce stab of regret that this engagement was not real. If only the arrogant nobleman might come to care for her in reality as he was pretending to do now! She sighed and glanced around for her maman and the Duchess. The latter was eating at a round table with several friends. There was no sign of Dani.

  When the Duke brought back her glass of the aromatic drink (peaches, she thought, with brandy and a trace of spices), she asked him if he had seen Dani. Standing at her side, his great frame towering over her seated figure, His Grace scanned the room.

  “Not here. Possibly she is still in the ballroom. Do you wish to go to seek her?"

  Tossing off the ratafia, Tiri rose at once. “Yes, if you please."

  “You are remarkably acquiescent tonight, Tiri. Can it be you are trying to win my approval?"

  Tiri glanced up into the beautiful green eyes which seemed to be probing her very heart. Her own gaze dropped, unable to sustain that jewel-hard demand. “Surely that must be an object with me, after all your kindness to us?” she murmured.

  The Duke frowned. Taking her by the elbow, he led her back to the ballroom.

  They saw Dani at once. She was strolling toward them on the arm of the young Earl of Swanden. There was a general milling about as gallants sought partners for the next dance, and acquaintances gathered in small groups for an exchange of pleasantries. Dani's rather serious expression softened into a smile as she caught sight of Tiri and Daral.

  “There you are! Good! The Earl has suggested that we join you in a glass of orgeat."

  “Your favorite tipple, Swanden?” inquired the Duke, shuddering ostentatiously.

  The younger man colored darkly with resentment at this slur. “I should rather say not! I always eat a huge dinner before attending one of these affairs. The collation the Patronesses provide is quite beneath contempt!"

  “Then if not to urge us to indulge,” sneered the Duke, “why were you seeking my fiancée and me?"

  The Earl, very young, very green, and very rich, was not yet accustomed to the slights and put-downs any pretender to the role of Nobleman-about-Town must endure. He was plainly put out by the Duke's cavalier treatment. His boyish face flushed unattractively as he glared at the older man. Then one word of the Duke's remark suddenly registered. "Fiancée?" He stared at Tiri and Dani, then at the Duke. His frown vanished. “Ah! I see!” He bowed to Dani, then with a knowing smile, said, “So you are the mysterious Frenchwoman who has taken the eye of our most famous bachelor!” Turning to the Duke, he said throatily, “Pray forgive me, Your Grace! I know you will do so when I confess that I was hoping to secure the good will of Madame la Comtesse so that I might further my acquaintance with her most charming daughter!” and he beamed upon the Duke and the two women.

  It is a question which of the three was the more offended, yet for obvious reasons, none of them could express anger. Dani, much as she loved Tiri, could hardly enjoy being told she had been courted as a means of access to her daughter. The latter was deeply annoyed at the easy assumption that the Duke would prefer her maman to herself. Daral, with more self-control than either of his companions, was distu
rbed to discover how angry the young stripling's pursuit of Tiri had made him. Mastering a desire to hurl the immature Lothario down the stairs, he smiled grimly.

  “May I introduce the Countess of Granville and her daughter, Therese, my fiancée?” His slight bow in each case indicated the person named.

  The Earl's self-control was greatly inferior to the Duke's "Miss Therese is your intended? But you are too old for her!” he exclaimed, quite losing that air of casual sangfroid which he always tried so hard to maintain.

  His comment was the last straw. The Duke's countenance became an arrogant mask.

  “Not too old, I think, to meet you tomorrow morning—if you are not too young for a gentleman's affair of honor!"

  Dani took charge of the explosive situation before these two English gamecocks could endanger all her plans, as well as their own reputations.

  “Ah, alas! It will be quite impossible! This charming boy had promised to take me to see the sunrise over Windsor Castle. There will be a party of us, and naturally we cannot disappoint so many!"

  The Earl, while grateful for any defense against the hideous threat of a duel with an acknowledged master, was still so astonished to hear that he had made so unlikely a proposal as a dawn drive into the country that his jaw literally dropped, leaving his mouth open rather unattractively.

  Observing his horror, the Duke felt a reluctant smile tugging at his lips. Dani was right, of course—where had she gotten the idea of a sunrise drive to Windsor? It was only a fraction less repulsive to the Earl than a duel, if his expression could be believed!—To duel with this halfling would create a nasty scandal. Smoothly he followed Dani's lead, making a laughing apology.

  “You are right, Swanden! A predawn drive to appreciate the beauties of nature is indeed beyond one of my years! I wish you happy with it!” He smiled, bowed, and offered his arm to Tiri. “Our dance, my dear, I believe!” he said and swept her onto the floor where the sets were now forming.

  Tiri was very quiet as the figures proceeded. The Duke, rather pluming himself on his skill in getting out of a brangle (conveniently forgetting that he had himself initiated it), decided to challenge the girl as soon as he had her to himself. This happened at the end of the dance, when, instead of returning her to the row of seats where her mama and the other chaperones sat, he led her to one of a series of small alcoves open to the ballroom but affording a slight measure of privacy.

  “I believe I handled that hot-headed young cawker quite neatly,” he began.

  “You would be engaged to fight a duel with him in a few hours, had it not been for Dani's intervention,” the girl said quietly.

  Tiri's response, although accurate, annoyed the Duke. What right had the little chit to adopt a critical tone to him? He frowned portentously.

  “He would never have accepted. You do not understand these matters! He would have begged my pardon and withdrawn from the field."

  Tiri did not appear convinced. Instead she said soberly, “The incident makes it clear to me that we are going about this situation in quite the wrong way.” The Duke was completely at sea and did not hesitate to show it. What bee had the girl in her bonnet now? The musicians struck up the next dance, and the Duke grinned like a boy as he heard the music.

  “Do you waltz, Tiri? Shall we venture it?"

  “I am told one must have permission from the Patronesses,” objected Tiri. “I must not mark myself as fast. Besides, we need to talk, Your Grace."

  “Then we shall talk!” said His Grace regretfully. “I had a fancy to hold you in my arms."

  This remark startled both of them. Rather quietly the two in the alcove watched the pairs of dancers swinging so smoothly past them to the fascinating music. Finally the Duke turned to the girl. “Talk!” he ordered.

  Tiri took a deep, steadying breath. She experienced a strange reluctance to state the conclusions she had come to. “I cannot see,” she began, low-voiced, “that parading our so-called engagement before the eligible men in the Ton is going to solve my problem."

  His Grace, bending toward her to catch her low-spoken words, presented too particular an image of the besotted male for his mother's notions of propriety to endure. She had been watching the two ever since they returned from supper. She had noted their retreat to the alcove and, worse, had been the recipient of several barbs from her cronies on her imminent elevation to dowagerhood. She now bore down upon the culprits like a ship under full sail and swept them up with the same battering force. Almost before they knew it, Daral and Tiri found themselves in the supper room sipping the despised orgeat.

  The Duke was quietly furious. “You interrupted an important conference.” He then told his mother the one thing he knew would rouse in her a rage of self-hatred. “Tiri was about to explain to me why we should announce the breakoff of our engagement at once."

  Lady Letitia's expression revealed all too well her chagrin. It appeared, if her son spoke truly, that she had, by her interruption, prevented the very outcome she so desperately desired.

  “Can we—can you not continue the conversation?” she asked, very humbly for her.

  Tiri was ready to agree, but the Duke slammed the door on further discussion. “It is late, and this place bores me,” he said crisply. “We shall collect your other guest, dear Mama, and make our adieux to our hostesses,” and he swept all three ladies along remorselessly in the strong tide of his will.

  They were very soon settled in the elegant carriage, the three ladies rather crowding the spacious rear seat with their costumes, the Duke sprawled at his ease facing them. Tiri wished she could have slapped the smug smile off his handsome face, but something more than good breeding held her back, even from making a comment. The cheerful, effervescent Dani was also silent; she stared unseeingly out the window at the darkened streets through which the carriage jolted. Only the Duchess ventured rashly to break the charged silence.

  “About the conference—” she began.

  “Leave it, Mama,” advised her son coldly.

  “Perhaps tomorrow morning?” Lady Letitia persisted doggedly.

  “I shall be leaving quite early for Hastings in the morning,” the Duke informed her. "Alone."

  This effectively cut off dialogue. Nothing further was said on the way to Mall House.

  CHAPTER 10

  Very early the following morning, a young woman in the first stare of elegance descended from a hackney in front of the Duke of Lansdale's Town house and presented herself at the door. Hull, the butler, recognized his master's fiancée and bundled her inside before any passersby could become aware of her identity. In a disapproving tone he inquired what he could do for her. “His Grace,” Hull told her, “is not yet come out of his rooms!"

  “Then you must send someone up to fetch him, Hull, for it is most important that I speak to him at once. I have been awake almost the whole night over this matter, Hull. Please send for His Grace!"

  Hull was not proof against huge, tear-filled blue eyes. She did look rather hagged, poor little female, he decided. Hull was not normally a lenient man, having been especially chosen by the Duke for his expert ability to discourage pretension, but he had been the Duke's butler for more than seven years and knew a good deal about the Duke's affairs. Something's gone wrong with the engagement, he surmised, or perhaps it's that mother of his making things nasty. So he settled Mam'selle in the cozy morning room and brought her a cup of coffee and some fresh baked rolls. Since he had also despatched a footman to announce Mam'selle's arrival to the Duke, Tiri was willing to break her fast in moderate patience.

  Within a remarkably short space of time His Grace entered the morning room. Hull observed that his master also had shadows under his eyes, although his expression revealed nothing and his manner was correctly aloof and courteous.

  With a nod of dismissal for Hull, The Duke poured himself a cup of coffee and took the last roll from the basket in front of Tiri.

  “We shall not be interrupted,” he said, sitting down across the
table where he could see every shade of feeling upon the pale little face before him. “Suppose you explain your very unconventional arrival at my home at this hour?” He was sternly repressing a fear that the chit was trying to force him to free her by threat of a scandal. But she did not look defiant, or devious, or anything but very young, very tired—and very sweet.

  An unaccustomed tenderness softened his usual harsh attitude. “Would you like to tell me why you are here?” he urged gently.

  “I have come,” said the girl with a proud lift of her small chin, “to talk about our engagement."

  Curiously reluctant to continue with this particular topic, the Duke interposed quickly, “To thank me for saving your face? But—"

  “No,” interrupted the girl doggedly, “to tell you it won't work. To release you from it.” She caught a deep breath. “How can I interest a possible partner if I am supposed to be going to marry you? I should think you would have realized that."

  “Or that your mama would!” retorted the Duke crossly. “She is supposed to have superior social skills, coming from the most elegant Court in Europe!"

  The minute the words left his mouth, the Duke regretted them. Tiri's little face went even paler, which put the huge, dark-shadowed eyes into greater prominence. The soft mouth trembled, and then became firm.

  “I think we were all taken by surprise when your Prince made his dramatic announcement,” she said. “I meant no blame upon you, Your Grace. Your quick recovery and your most generous announcement prevented a social disaster for my maman and myself. I pray you, do not think we are ungrateful! It is as much for your own sake as for ours that I—I thrust myself upon your notice this morning. You did say you were going into the country today?"

  “I said that only to prevent the Duchess from trying to manipulate us all. You are fortunate, Tiri, in your agreeable relationship with your mama. My experience has been quite otherwise. I am, perhaps understandably, wary."

  Tiri nodded. “But you do see that we must have a new plan of action if we are to release you from this intolerable burden, do you not, Your Grace?"