The Duchess Takes it All

Chapter Twelve

Tamsin dressed for the dinner party well ahead of schedule. Not only did she want to make sure they arrived right on time, she also wanted to be ready to walk out the door, if not be already in the carriage, by the time the count came downstairs. She still couldn’t quite believe she’d gotten him to return to London. And in time for the Beaubrookes’ dinner party as well. She might just be able to put aside her devious tricks for good.

Although she still had one more small prank up her sleeve for this evening. Just for a spot of fun.

She hurried down the stairs, pulling her gloves up as she went. Her eagerness to see her friends again threatened to bubble over into an excited squeal, and she rolled her lips between her teeth to keep the sound in. But to be walking into a dinner party in a new gown for the first time in nearly six months lifted a weight from her soul she hadn’t realized was there.

The modiste had outdone herself with a confection of beautiful mauve trimmed in black lace, just for the occasion, pushing the bonds of propriety perhaps just a tad with the shade, though it was still within the acceptable palette for half-mourning. She’d also put away her jet beads in favor of her mother’s amethyst earrings and necklace set. Again, keeping just to the inside of proper without crossing the line. If she were attending a larger party, she might play it a bit safer. But these were her dearest friends. And she couldn’t bear to don her black clothing one more night.

She went into the small coat room they kept off the main entrance where the butler, Mr. Davis, stood with her cloak in hand, one bushy brow raised in question. “Are you sure this is the cloak you wished for this evening, Your Grace? I could have Liza fetch another.”

“This will do perfectly, Davis, thank you.”

“Very well, ma’am,” he said, holding it out for her, then fetching her hat with its heavy veil.

The heavy black cloak was welcome against the chilly February night, but the hat with its heavy black veil made it very difficult to see. But the ensemble covered her head to toe, obscuring any hint of her mauve dress. Or of anything at all beneath the yards of fabric.

The men came downstairs just as she was finishing fastening her hat, and Davis gathered their coats and hats to take out to them.

Tamsin waited a few moments and then silently moved into the foyer.

“Is Her Grace ready?” the count asked, his gaze fixed on the stairs as he pulled on his gloves.

“I’m here,” she said.

Both men turned, and the baron jumped back a foot. “Meine Gott,” he said, clutching at his heart. “You gave me a start.”

His eyes took her in before giving her a strained smile. “Right then, I’ll go make sure the carriage is waiting.”

Tamsin quietly laughed as the baron headed for the front door, taking care to skirt around her carefully. She wasn’t wearing anything out of the ordinary for a woman in deep mourning. But the sight of a figure draped all in black must have been a sight for one not expecting to see it.

She looked back to find the count staring at her, slowly shaking his head.

“I suppose this is your response to my having an opinion about your state of mourning and remarriage possibilities?”

He didn’t wait for her to answer. He just plopped his hat on and marched out the door, muttering under his breath about stubborn, aggravating women and being more careful about expressing any opinion about anything. There might have also been a prayer for deliverance. But Tamsin didn’t miss the telltale twitch of his lips.

She chuckled and headed outside as well, accepting the count’s hand as she climbed into the carriage.

They rode in relative silence for the few minutes it took to reach Beaubrooke Hall. The count didn’t take his gaze from her the entire time. All she could do was thank her lucky stars for the thick veil that hid her face from him and try to keep her squirming from his notice.

The poor baron glanced between the two of them several times before shaking his head and pulling his hat over his eyes for a short nap.

When they arrived, the count exited first, again holding out his hand to help her down. But even after her feet touched the ground, he kept her hand, wrapping it about his arm so he could escort her inside.

“Are you planning on wearing that veil all evening?” he asked. “It might make actually eating anything difficult.”

She laughed. “True. Though it could be amusing to try.”

Lavinia and the duke were waiting to greet them in the foyer. Lavinia’s eyes grew round, and a strangled laugh squeaked out of her before she cut it off with a fake cough. The duke glanced at her, eyebrows raised, glanced at his wife, opened his mouth to say something, and then snapped it shut again with a small shake of his head. He turned to greet the count and baron while Lavinia led Tamsin over to where a servant waited to take her outer coverings.

“I’m assuming this has something to do with our dear count over there?” Lavinia said quietly to her.

Tamsin laughed and nodded. “We had a difference of opinions on when I should leave behind the black and seek a new spouse,” she said.

Lavinia’s mouth dropped open in dismay. “Oh, please don’t tell me he bullied you into wearing black again. Not when the modiste sent over all those lovely gowns.”

“Of course not,” Tamsin said. “I just wanted to make a point first.”

She carefully removed her hat pin and then the monstrosity of a hat, handing them to the footman who waited at her side. Then she removed her cloak, taking a moment to glance in the large mirror on the wall to make sure her hair and gown were still as they should be before she turned to face the others. The capped sleeves were still delightfully poofed, the skirt gathered beneath her bosom and falling in lush folds to the floor. Her gloves covered her arms against the chill in the air.

“You look absolutely beautiful,” Lavinia said, giving her a quick hug. “And I don’t think I’m the only one to think so,” she murmured in her ear.

Tamsin glanced up to find the count staring at her. She moved toward him, stopping a mere foot away. He remained stock-still, watching her every move. His eyes widened as he took her in, his eyes roaming over her form from her carefully coiffed hair to her satin-clad toes and back up again. Taking a few extra moments near her decolletage, she noticed, her heart skipping a beat or two as his gaze lingered.

“Is there something amiss, my lord?” she finally asked when his silence grew too much to bear.

“What?” he asked, finally meeting her eyes again. “No. My apologies,” he said, clearing his throat. “You are quite breathtaking this evening, Your Grace.”

“Oh,” she said faintly. “Thank you, my lord.”

Her cheeks grew warm again under his admiration. Until he added, “One would almost think you’d decided to follow my excellent advice about finding another husband.”

Her eyes narrowed, and he turned, chuckling, to the footman to hand off his hat and gloves.

She shook her head. The man couldn’t seem to help himself.

“My dear duchess—both my dear duchesses,” Nigel declared as he barreled through the door. “We do not deserve the presence of two such enchanting ladies,” he said, grinning at both Tamsin and Lavinia.

“Must he always be invited?” the duke muttered to his wife.

The count blinked at the duke in surprise, but Tamsin bit her lip to keep from laughing. The count looked at her askance.

“The duke and Lord Bainbridge have a somewhat…unique relationship,” she murmured to him. “They have been rivals for most of their childhood and adult lives, yet they still care for each other as brothers. Though neither of them will ever admit it.”

Lavinia laughed, joining them. “Nigel has been close friends with my family since we were small children. We have always been as close as siblings and are treated as such by both families. So for my sake, Nigel and my dear husband do attempt to put aside their differences. They are not always successful,” she added, her lips twisting in an amused grimace.

“Frankly, I think they enjoy nitpicking at each other,” Tamsin said. Something she realized with a bit of a shock she now completely understood. The highlight of her days lately was her spats with the count.

If the count’s twitching lips meant anything, he was thinking much the same as she.

They chatted and mingled until the bell was rung for supper.

Lavinia had seated the count to her right with the baron at the duke’s right at the scrumptiously appointed table. The rest of the party filled in the seats where they willed. Kitty sat across from the baron. Tamsin sat across from the count, on Lavinia’s left, while Nigel sat beside Tamsin with Georgie across from him.

Which worked perfectly for the next part of Tamsin’s plan for the evening. If the count wished for her to remarry, then there was no time like the present to find a suitor. Or at least let Lord Rauchberg believe that was what she was doing. As long as he let her be. The last thing she wanted was for him to decide he needed to undertake yet another task “for the good of her son and future” and try and find her a husband himself.

Tamsin took advantage of the influx of servants carrying in the soup course to lean over to Nigel.

“Would you be willing to help a damsel in distress with a rather large favor? Just for the evening,” she asked.

Nigel’s eyes gleamed. “Always. Would this boon have anything to do with annoying a particularly irksome dragon?”

She laughed. “I don’t know if it will annoy him, but it will hopefully quiet him down a bit.”

“As long as it doesn’t involve a vicar and a vow before God, I am at your service.”

Tamsin laughed again. “Nothing so far as that. But it would be helpful if he believed that you were possibly interested in that outcome.”

Nigel quirked a brow. “The plot thickens. Very well, as long as you promise that my virtue shall remain intact, I shall endeavor to woo you this evening,” he said, handing her the salt cellar as if it were an exquisite flower that he’d picked just for her.

“My dearest thanks,” she said with a smile. Nigel was nothing if not entertaining.

He leaned closer to murmur in her ear. “And it looks as if our ruse is working already.”

She glanced up and met the count’s smoldering gaze. Her breath caught, and she took a deep drink of her wine, hoping the libation would brace her. His mouth pulled into a slight half grin that sent her head spinning. She hated that he read her so well.

The urge to hide her face behind the large urns full of flowers that were spaced in regular intervals down the center of the table was great. Unfortunately, the centerpieces and candelabras were arranged so that they were between each guest rather than in front of them, thereby leaving their view of the person across the table free. And the candles were plentiful enough that the room was cheerfully bright.

Which was a good thing for Tamsin’s plan with Nigel. Not so good for her nerves.

The party ate with the usual companionable small talk for most of the meal, though the count’s gaze rarely left Tamsin.

Nigel, lord love him, did his part with aplomb, dancing attendance upon her the entire night, ensuring the tastiest morsels ended up on her plate, her wineglass was always full, and the sweetest treats found their way into her mouth. By the time dessert was served, the count looked ready to physically remove Nigel from her side. Which she found gratifying but truly puzzling. He’d made no secret of the fact that he thought she should wed again. He should be thrilled she seemed to be doing something about it.

“So, Lord Rauchberg, tell us about yourself,” Beaubrooke said. “Lord Feldhagen says in addition to ensuring our young Duke of Clevesley’s estate is in order, you are also in the market for a wife.”

Tamsin’s head jerked up, her eyes meeting the count’s briefly before he turned to glare at Lord Feldhagen.

“Feldhagen gossips too much,” he said with a strained smile.

“So you are not after a wife?” Nigel asked.

The count turned his coolly polite gaze to Nigel. “My uncle would be happy indeed if that were to occur. Though we have differing ideas of what my priorities are.”

The duke snorted. “Yes. Father figures are often overly interested in our priorities, aren’t they?”

“Or mothers,” Kitty chimed in.

As the only remaining unmarried daughter in the Wynnburn household, Kitty now had the sole attention of her mother. Not an enviable position to be in, though the usually vivacious Kitty seemed to enjoy the attention. Or at least she had before it was entirely focused on her.

“I do know what you mean,” Lord Feldhagen said to her.

She turned to him with a smile. “Do you?”

“I have three sisters and a brother, all of whom have already wed and presented my mother with grandchildren. As the only unmarried child, my parents can’t help but wonder, I suppose, when I will follow their example. And they have become quite…exuberant in their encouragement.”

Kitty laughed again. “It sounds like our parents are of like minds,” she said, tipping her glass to him.

“Indeed. Which is why when my Lord Rauchberg desired a traveling companion for his sojourn here, I leaped at the chance to offer my company and assistance.”

Rauchberg lightly snorted. “Your assistance leaves much to be desired.”

Feldhagen waved him away. “That is only because our definitions of assistance differ so greatly.”

Laughter filled the room, and they spent the rest of the meal exchanging other jokes and pleasantries until Lavinia and the duke stood to lead their guests into the salon. As it was such an intimate dinner party, their hosts had opted to keep everyone together after dinner for port and a few hands of whist before it was finally time to depart for home. And it ended far too soon for Tamsin.

While their carriage was brought around, Tamsin hugged Lavinia and donned her dreadful cape and hat again, though this time she kept the veil lifted. The hat had served its purpose. Besides, Tamsin was afraid if she left it down now, she’d trip over her own feet in the near-total darkness it would create.

The count had surprisingly little to say on the ride home, and she took the opportunity to enjoy the silence, knowing it wouldn’t last.

And she was right. The moment they’d stepped through the doors, Rauchberg turned to her. “May I have a word, Your Grace?”

She glanced at Feldhagen, who looked back and forth between them before giving them a strained smile and stepping backward a few steps.

“I…believe I shall retire,” he said, retreating until he made it to the steps. “Good night, Your Grace, Rauchberg,” he said before fleeing up the stairs. Leaving her to face the glowering count on her own.

Coward.

Rauchberg held the door of the study open and waited for her to enter. So she took a deep breath, straightened her spine, and marched in to face her consequences.

“Is something amiss, my lord?” Tamsin asked as she swept by him and took a seat in the armchair before the fireplace.

…

Christian gritted his teeth, a throbbing ache taking up residence behind his eyes. He sat in the chair across from her. “You know there is.”

She blinked at him innocently. “I know no such thing.”

He opened his mouth to refute her, but she pressed on. “You thought it was too early for me to put away my full mourning—despite wishing for me to begin socializing and courting again, which is unfairly contradictory, I’ll have you know—so I wore my black. You thought it was excessive, so I removed it. You wished for me to find a new husband, so I am endeavoring to do so and have seemingly already found a suitor in Lord Bainbridge. I have complied with everything you have asked of me as immediately as possible and without complaint. So I’m afraid I do not understand what complaint you may have of me.”

Christian frowned. He had been about to call out her behavior this evening, particularly the outrageous flirting with Lord Bainbridge. However, she was, as she stated, only doing what he’d told her he wanted.

She tilted her head in that annoyingly adorable way she had and waited for him to come up with an answer.

He glowered at her. “I did not intend for you to set your sights on Lord Bainbridge,” he finally said.

Her eyes widened. “Whyever not? I’m rather surprised you did not suggest him in the first place, truth be told.”

“Why on earth would I do that?”

“Perhaps because he is a friend, and therefore someone with whom I am already well acquainted and comfortable. He is titled, wealthy, well-liked and respected, amusing, and unattached. And open to courting me, it appears, despite my less-than-noble bloodline. He seems the perfect solution. An unmarried man already within my circle of friends is certainly an easier prospect than having to search further afield.”

Damn it all, why did she have to make so much sense? And why was he so against such a match? He wasn’t sure he was ready to examine the answer to that question just yet.

“Just…try not to be so blatant about it. It’s unseemly.”

She quirked an eyebrow up at that but thankfully didn’t pursue an argument over the absurdity of that statement. “Very well, my lord.”

“I…” He let out a growling sigh. “Good night, Your Grace.”

He spun on his heel and marched out the door. Before she was able to follow any other advice of his and inadvertently ruin his day with more obedience and logic.