A Duke’s Overlooked Spinster (The Courting Season #1)

Chapter 5

The sound of chattering voices hit Sarah like a wave. It was evening, the smell of cool, dew-soaked grass drifting through the window of the hallway. Though it were not loud, the sound seemed like cannon-fire in her ears, accustomed as they were to silence. She tensed, her breath stopping for a moment. Her heart raced and she stood rooted to the spot, unable for a moment to step forward. She was expected to join the guests in the drawing room and then to go down to dinner.

It has been so long since I was at any sort of gathering, she thought wildly. Her fingers laced through each other, a habit to stop them plucking nervously at the blue muslin of her gown.

She heard the butler’s footsteps coming up the hallway and she breathed in, smelling the scent of perfume and pomade. It was the smell of so many gatherings of the ton , and she felt her knees lock, even though she forced herself to take another step forward. Even before she had become accustomed to the silence of Wakeford, she had hated public gatherings. Before she could turn and run, she heard her cousin’s voice.

“Ah! Sarah! There you are. You look lovely. Come in, dear. Edward is over there with Lady Egerton. She has just arrived. Go and join them, if you like?” she added with a smile.

“Thank you,” Sarah murmured, understanding that Caroline knew how afraid she was. She had evidently chosen the most affable, friendly people in the room for Sarah to talk to, and she crossed the floor to join Edward by the window.

“Sarah! My dear. May I introduce you to the Earl and Countess of Egerton? They have just arrived. Lady Egerton is the daughter of Her Grace the dowager Duchess of Clairwood,” he added, with a pointed glance at Sarah.

Sarah swallowed hard, dropping a curtsey. The dowager Duchess of Clairwood was the woman who had been so unbearably rude the previous day. Cheeks burning, she straightened up from her curtsey, studying the young woman who stood before her.

“Nice to meet you, my lady,” she said indifferently, mistrustful of the lady due to her connection with the odious woman who had insulted her. “Nice to meet you, my lord,” she added to the man who stood beside her.

The two greeted her and Sarah studied them unobtrusively as they chatted to Edward and herself. Lady Egerton was tall, with a long oval face and black hair that she wore in a chignon, partly covered by a thick band of dark blue lace; her attempt at covering her hair. She had dark eyes, a long, graceful neck, and a comfortable posture and manner, as if she was deeply at home in herself and in any possible surroundings. She looked only distantly like the tall, blond-haired man who Sarah had met yesterday.

He must be her brother, Sarah thought distractedly, since she is the daughter of the Duchess of Clairwood, and he is the Duchess’ son.

The young woman seemed nothing like the dowager duchess—she was talking amiably with Edward, her warm laugh lifting Sarah’s frayed spirits. The lady turned to Sarah with a twinkling-eyed smile, but before she could say anything, the dowager duchess appeared.

“Victoria!” the dowager duchess greeted Lady Egerton. “Are you not overly hot in that shawl?”

“No, Mama,” Lady Egerton commented lightly, tucking the offending garment into the crook of her elbows. “It’s a little chilly this evening. No slur on your fine hospitality intended,” she added with a grin at Edward. “The fire is amply warm.”

Edward smiled. “Thank you,” he said teasingly. Lady Egerton laughed.

Sarah smiled at Lady Egerton. She seemed a pleasant, warm-hearted person, and Sarah could not help liking her. Her gaze moved from the tall, dark-haired countess to her mother, and she tensed. The woman was looking straight at her but ignoring her completely as though she was a footman or part of the furniture. In high society, it was what was known as the “cut direct”, the rudest form of failing to acknowledge an acquaintance.

“Lord Averhill,” she addressed Edward, turning to look at him after a few seconds of giving Sarah a hard, cold stare. “Might I avail upon your hospitality and request you have the drapes drawn back? It is too hot in here.”

“Oh. Of course,” Edward said swiftly. “I will see to it directly.” He nodded to Sarah and the earl and countess, excusing himself for a moment. Sarah stood uncomfortably, trying to ignore the dowager duchess, her cheeks burning with a mix of shame and rage as she recalled the woman’s rudeness.

“Victoria,” the duchess began, addressing her daughter. “Might you come here a moment? I require your opinion. I have been discussing a matter with Lady Bardwell, and I...”

She trailed off as someone approached the group. The person was approaching behind Sarah, and she turned around and her heart almost stopped in surprise. The Duke of Clairwood was there. Sarah stopped breathing for a moment as his gaze met her own. He stared into her eyes, and she felt as though she was being drawn into his gaze, falling into those deep sapphire eyes and drowning there. It was only a moment, and the duchess cleared her throat.

“Robert!” She addressed her son. “Perhaps you might help me? Lady Bardwell and I were discussing the Shakespeare play, Henry the Fifth, and...”

“You were requesting my sister’s help just a moment ago,” the duke said smoothly. “I think in matters of English literature, she is far more well-informed than I.”

Sarah hid a smile. The duchess shot her son an angry look but turned away. She began to speak to her daughter, and the duke turned to Sarah.

“I was glad to find you here,” he said. His voice was low and resonant, extremely beautiful. It sent shivers down her spine to hear it. “I wished to apologise properly for my son’s exuberant behaviour yesterday. He can be careless sometimes.” A small half-smile played across his mouth.

“There is no need,” Sarah said gently, her own lips lifting at the mention of the playful boy. “No harm was done. He is a very polite child. He apologised several times himself already.”

The duke grinned.

“He is a very polite child,” he agreed, a soft smile tugging his lips. “He can also be a little high-spirited. Mayhap he is sometimes too high-spirited,” he added, sounding a little embarrassed.

“He is just a child,” Sarah said firmly. “All children are high-spirited at times.”

The duke’s brow shot up and Sarah tensed, thinking that perhaps she had overstepped the boundaries of politeness. But the smile that lit his face was warm and genuine.

“You are right,” he said with a chuckle. “I was certainly high-spirited as a child. My nursemaid despaired of me. And my little brother Charles no less so.”

Sarah giggled. “Two boys? I am sure you two contrived all manner of mischief.”

The duke nodded. “We certainly did. But Charles is six years my junior, so it was many years before we could make mischief on an equal footing. I think our tutors and parents praised Heaven for that fact.” His eyes were sparkling as if he recalled amusing memories.

“Do you recall something of what you did?” she asked.

“Oh, all sorts. I remember one day when we climbed the roof. My parents spotted us when we were heading towards the upstairs windows. Mama almost fainted in shock. The garden staff were summoned with ladders, but by that time we were already able to scramble in through an upper window. It was a terrific lark.” He chuckled.

“I imagine you were banned from climbing the roof?” Sarah asked with a grin.

“After that, certainly. I think they never imagined we’d be so foolish. The roof was quite steep and slate tiled.” He chuckled again. “They hadn’t imagined we’d be so naughty. A pair of little imps, we were then.”

Sarah had to laugh. “I imagine that is true,” she replied with a grin.

The duke grinned back. “That is a forthright answer,” he replied.

Sarah blushed. “Pray, excuse me,” she murmured. “I have been many years out of adult company, but the children of our household staff were often about, and sometimes they talked to me. I tend to speak my mind as they do.”

“Pray, do not apologise,” the duke said at once. “It is refreshing to meet someone who speaks her mind.”

His voice was warm as honey when he spoke, his eyes intense where they gazed into her own.

Sarah’s cheeks went bright red. Her heart thudded rapidly, her entire body flushing with heat. “I thank you, Your Grace,” she managed to murmur.

His gaze held hers and Sarah’s cheeks burned even more with the same strange heat. She looked down at her toes, the feeling so overwhelming that she needed to look away and break the intense gaze.

“Son? There you are!” An imperious voice rang out. “I was looking for you for an age. Come! Dinner is about to be served.”

Sarah looked up at the sound of the voice, just in time to see a flare of anger cross the duke’s cool blue gaze. He glared at the dowager duchess, who had appeared by his side, but then quickly masked his anger and turned to Sarah.

“Pray, excuse me, Miss Brooke,” he murmured.

Sarah inclined her head, bobbing a brief curtsey. “Of course, Your Grace,” she replied, surprised by his polite words.

The duke turned away, his arm claimed by the dowager duchess, who was ostensibly supporting herself by leaning on him, but it seemed as though she was leading him into the dining room, away from Sarah.

She has a terrible opinion of me, and she makes no attempt to hide it, Sarah thought with a mix of anger and sorrow. The woman’s cruelty and rudeness were like salt in the wounds to her pride and reminded her that she was far from a debutante, but still unknown in society. She breathed in deeply, tried to set aside the hurt and pain and joined the group as they drifted into the dining room.