The Corinthian Duke Read online

  Ella bit back a smile, knowing he’d said it to rile Oscar as much as make her feel at home.

  “Fluff, then,” she said, as he raised her hand to his lips.

  “Congratulations,” he added, his voice low as he winked at her. “I’m so glad you got him.”

  Ella blushed a little, startled by the comment, but she had no time to dwell on it before the dowager duchess, Clementine Paget, took her attention.

  “Come and sit by me, Ella,” she said, patting the seat beside her.

  The curious glint was still in her eyes and made Ella feel all on edge. She felt sure the dowager knew damn well they had not caught her in flagrante delicto with her son. The idea of Oscar being carried away on a tide of passion with her…. Well, his mother was no fool, she’d know that was a barefaced lie.

  Ella did as the dowager bade her, perching on the edge of the sofa and ill at ease.

  “Oh, do relax, poor child. I won’t eat you. Surely you know that after all these years?”

  With a flush she felt burn her from her cheeks to her toes, Ella shook her head.

  “Oh, no, indeed, your grace. I…. It’s simply all a little….”

  “Ella, first off, we are family now,” she said, casting her paramour a narrow-eyed look of amusement. “So, you must call me Mintie.”

  “Not Mama?” Oscar asked, a teasing note to his voice.

  “No,” Mintie replied tersely. She flapped her hands at the two men with impatience. “Now, you two run along and leave us alone. I want to have a chat with my new daughter-in-law.”

  “Come along, young man,” Fluff said, gesturing for Oscar to lead the way. “We are not welcome among the ladies, it seems. Shall I challenge you to a game of billiards?”

  “If you must,” Oscar muttered, casting an anxious glance at his mother and then Ella.

  He gave a tiny shake of his head as Ella met his eyes, and she blinked as his stare became harder. With sudden understanding, she realised he was warning her. She must not tell his mother the truth.

  No doubt he worried his mother would be disgusted with her if she knew what Ella had really done. Mintie was not a prude and would think a girl getting carried away with her handsome boy was understandable. Ella suspected that discovering her new daughter-in-law had pretended to be a man and won the Craven Stakes… well, that might be harder for her to accept.

  Ella tried not to fidget as she felt the beautiful dowager duchess’ gaze on her. She turned and tried to smile, wishing she had half the poise and glamour of the woman at her side. She was everything a duchess ought to be. In fact she reminded Ella of Pearl, except with a lot more warmth and compassion.

  A sweet-natured and indulgent woman, she’d always been kind to Ella. All knew Mintie to be a wonderful hostess. A vibrant and popular figure among the ton, her fun-loving nature and readiness to laugh still kept a legion of admirers at her feet despite her forty-seven years.

  “Well, Ella. This is… unexpected.”

  Ella swallowed and prayed she wouldn’t disgrace herself by crying. There was no edge to the dowager’s voice, only surprise.

  “Yes,” she replied, keeping her eyes downcast and having no idea of what else she could say.

  She hoped that Mintie would believe her ashamed of her actions. It was true enough, albeit for different reasons.

  A warm hand encircled hers, and Ella felt her throat tighten as Mintie drew her hand into her own lap.

  “Don’t look so sad, child. Aren’t you happy to be Oscar’s wife? I thought it was your dream come true.”

  Ella stared at the woman in horror as the soft words hit home. His mother had known all along. Good Lord. She thought she’d been so careful to act as though he was nothing more than a dear friend, and all the time….

  There was such understanding in his mother’s eyes—eyes so like Oscar’s—that Ella was quite undone, and she burst into tears.

  “Oh, there, there. It’s all right, my dear, you have a good cry.”

  Before Ella could get a grip of herself or protest Mintie had gathered her up in her perfumed embrace, hugging her close.

  For a moment she felt herself to be the child everyone believed her to be, and she longed for her own mother. She’d died when Ella was five, and Ella had always believed her kinship with Oscar had stemmed from this fact as his father had died when he was young too. Would she have been such a dreadful trial to everyone if her mother had lived, though? If she’d had a little more guidance?

  Mintie pressed a pretty lace-edged handkerchief into her hand and Ella dried her eyes, doing her best to compose herself.

  “Oh, my. Whatever must you think of me?” she said, daring a glance up and finding nothing but kindness and sympathy in the lovely face that observed her.

  “I think something has happened and my son has done something honourable to extricate you from a fix.”

  Ella bit her lip and stared at the floor, taking a sudden interest in the Aubusson tapestry beneath the toe of her shoe.

  “He doesn’t want you to tell me, no doubt?” Mintie said, thoughtful now, fierce intelligence blazing in those hazel eyes. “Hmm.”

  There was silence for a while and Ella felt she could hear the dowager thinking, such was the concentration on the woman’s face when she dared to take a glance at her.

  “Your father told me he found the two of you in a passionate embrace, with you in nothing but your shift.”

  Ella felt the blush as it bloomed and spread, heat rising over her neck and scalding her cheeks. She swallowed but said nothing. Oscar had forbidden her to say anything and she could not begin their married life by disobeying him in this.

  “Is that true, Ella?”

  “I… I….” Ella stammered, torn. She couldn’t lie to the woman who would be her mother-in-law, but she couldn’t tell the truth without angering Oscar.

  To her relief, Mintie held up a hand. “No, it’s all right. I ought not have asked you. I must tell you, however: I don’t believe a word.”

  Ella suppressed a bitter laugh. Of course she didn’t. Oscar’s mother knew he didn’t have the slightest romantic interest in her.

  “Which means… he was getting you out of a scrape?” All at once a harder look entered the woman’s eyes, and Ella held her breath. “There wasn’t another man? The one you really dallied with?”

  “No!” Ella surged to her feet, deeply shocked as the dowager let out a breath of relief.

  “Thank goodness for that.” She sighed and reached for Ella’s hand. “Oh, I’m sorry, my dear. Forgive me, but it is such a puzzle and I had to ask…. You do see?”

  Ella gave a taut nod and sat down again.

  “I shall get to the truth,” Mintie said, a warning note to her words, though she gave Ella a warm smile. “But let us not worry about that now. For now, let me say I am thrilled to welcome you to Chancery.”

  “Y-You are?”

  There was a sceptical tone to her voice and Mintie gave a merry laugh.

  “I am, Ella, my word on it. Is that so hard to believe?”

  Ella looked down at the sofa they sat on and traced a pattern of birds and flowers with a fingertip across the yellow silk. “Yes.”

  She looked up, deciding she may as well be honest with the woman. Oscar had forbidden her to give away his reason for marrying her, but the rest… that was no secret.

  “I can’t help but think you must be disappointed. Pearl would have made the perfect duchess. She’s so poised and… and she says nothing to make people blush and she’d never do anything dreadful, like throwing her dinner in the Chancellor’s lap.”

  Mintie roared with laughter this time and Ella’s eyes widened.

  “No, she never does, more’s the pity,” the woman said, astonishing her. “I think it would do her the world of good if she did. There is nothing that can bring one down to earth quicker than making a cake of oneself. I’ve done it often, I assure you.”

  “You?” Ella stared at her, disbelieving.

  “Oh, ye
s. In fact, I’ll tell you a secret.” She lowered her voice, leaning towards Ella with mischief glinting in her eyes. “Once, not long after I became the Duchess of Rothborn, we were out at some grand affair in town. I was disgustingly proud of myself, you know, full of my importance at having married a duke.”

  Ella gave her a doubtful look and Mintie snorted.

  “I’m no paragon, Ella. Pray don’t make me one. I have no head for heights and pedestals make me queasy. Well, in any case, I was making my grand entrance, nose in the air, when I tripped on my skirts and tumbled down the stairs. I took out an Earl and a Viscount on my way down and was only saved from complete disaster by a quick-thinking servant who dropped the drinks tray he was holding and caught me in his arms. To this day I’m not sure which of us was the most mortified.”

  Mintie took one look at Ella’s expression of fascinated horror and went off into peals of laughter.

  “There, far worse than lancing a potato in some dull politician’s lap.”

  Despite her anxieties, Ella laughed. An honest to goodness laugh that tore away some of the fears and troubles that had plagued her and kept her from sleep since this ridiculous affair had begun.

  “It that true?” she demanded, once she caught her breath.

  “As God is my witness,” Mintie replied with a regretful sigh. “I thought I’d never be able to face the ton ever again, but of course I did. I discovered the best way to deal with it was to laugh about it myself and bring the subject up before they could. Once they could see I thought it a great lark they gave up using it against me. Soon enough, they had discovered someone else to laugh and titter about.”

  Ella looked at her new mother-in-law with growing admiration and Mintie smiled, taking hold of both her hands.

  “There, now. We shall be friends, shan’t we, Ella?”

  There was no other possible answer, so Ella smiled at her and nodded. “Yes, I rather think we shall.”

  Mintie nodded, pleased, and lowered her voice. When she spoke again, there was a rather intimate tone to the words.

  “Well, then, perhaps you will allow me to advise you a little over the coming months?”

  “Oh, yes, please,” Ella replied, relieved beyond measure. “Running a grand house like this puts me in a dreadful quake, so I would be ever so grateful.”

  Mintie frowned at her and gave an impatient tut, shaking her head. “No, no, no. There’s nothing to that. That wasn’t what I meant at all.”

  Ella blinked, perplexed. “Well, then… what…?”

  The dowager gave an exasperated sigh. “Oh, don’t be a silly goose, Ella. I meant advice on how to get Oscar to fall in love with you.”

  She stared at Ella for a moment, a critical gaze that made Ella flush.

  “First,” the dowager said with a decisive air. “We must deal with those eyebrows.”

  ***

  Ella sat down to dinner with Oscar, still reeling from her conversation with his mother. That the woman thought there was even the possibility that her son could fall in love with her had been startling enough, that she was determined to make it happen… that had stunned her. Also, Mintie did not seem the least bit disappointed to have Ella instead of Pearl. In fact, she seemed rather pleased. It was all rather perplexing, albeit pleasantly. Perhaps there was a glimmer of hope on the horizon? Not a beacon blazing in the darkness perhaps, but… a glimmer.

  It was more than she believed she had when she’d stood at the altar earlier. Like a drowning man clutching at straws, she’d keep that glimmer alive for as long as she could.

  For the moment however, the atmosphere strained at the seams as Oscar struggled to make polite conversation.

  “I have brought your mare over, and the rest of your belongings will be here in the morning, though you must buy whatever you need. I’ll see you have an adequate allowance, but if you ever need more—”

  “I’m sure you’ll be more than generous, Oscar,” Ella said, interrupting him.

  Mintie and her devoted Fluff had taken themselves off to a rout party. Ella knew it was to give the newlyweds time alone but, despite Mintie’s encouragement, she’d rather they’d have stayed. She wished her brother was here too, but even Bertie had drawn the line at coming to stay on their wedding night.

  If he knew the truth, perhaps he wouldn’t have worried about that. He was not going to be interrupting any romantic billing and cooing. He must know that, but she imagined Oscar had not informed him of the nature of their marriage.

  A stilted silence invaded the room and hovered about them as serving staff came and went, bringing in the next course and clearing the last. Ella had little appetite and could not do justice to the lavish spread.

  “I’m sorry, Oscar,” she said, after the silence had stretched so taut she couldn’t bear it another moment. “I know it changes nothing, but… I am. I want you to know that.”

  “I’m sorry too, Ella,” he said, giving her a warm smile that made her heart turn in her chest. “I don’t imagine this was the marriage you’d hoped for.”

  Ella held back the ache that built beneath her ribs. Marrying Oscar was the only dream she’d ever had, but not like this.

  “Oh, I never intended to marry, you know that,” she said, the words light as she reached for her wine and took a large swallow.

  “Don’t be foolish, Ella. You would have married one day, and I’m sorry that the chance to have a… a romance, has been taken from you.”

  Oh don’t, Oscar, she pleaded silently. Please don’t make it any worse.

  “I… I just want you to know that if… if you ever do meet someone….”

  Ella stared at him in horror, willing him not to say the words but he continued, taking a hammer to her heart and pounding what remained to dust.

  “Well, as long as you are discreet and… and careful, well, I wouldn’t stand in your way.”

  Her fingers curled around the slender stem of her glass and she had to fight not to grip it so hard it shattered. She kept her breathing even, concentrating on the task when she wanted to smash everything on the table as decisively as his words had smashed her fragile hopes.

  “So, you are saying I’m free to… to have affairs, if I wish?”

  Oscar coloured a little but nodded. “I want you to be happy, Ella, as happy as this situation will allow for at least. I mean… you must take care, I’ll not raise another man’s bastard but…. Yes, you have my permission to take a lover, if you desire.”

  “I see.”

  The words were careful, placid, and Ella felt a little as if she was walking a tightrope. If she moved too suddenly, if she looked at him or said the wrong thing, she would crash to the ground.

  “I’m actually rather tired, Oscar so… if you will excuse me.”

  Oscar rose as she got to her feet and she turned away without another word, determined that he not see the anguish in her eyes. She just made it out of the room before the tears started to fall, and she ran.

  She ran through the grand entrance hall and up the stairs, uncaring if it was undignified behaviour for a duchess, and slammed her bedroom door behind her.

  Damn him. Damn him and his bloody kindness and understanding. What was the point in his permission to love another, when she was incapable of doing so?

  Chapter 8

  “Wherein heroes or villains take to the stage?”

  The next weeks fell into a routine, and it soon became clear to Ella, Oscar was avoiding her.

  As far as Ella was concerned, he might as well have married her brother. Oscar spent a damn sight more time with him than he did with his wife. Nothing had changed, just like Oscar had said; at least, not for him and Bertie.

  Oscar and Bertie did all the things they’d always done. They hunted, fished, and terrorised the local wildlife whilst they left her to endure the endless morning calls from neighbours and friends that continued long into the afternoon. It was exhausting, especially as all any of them wanted was to get to the truth of her relationship with Oscar.


  Happily, her mother-in-law, whom Ella was fast becoming to believe was her fairy godmother, fended off the worst. She had a marvellous knack of quelling impertinent questions with little more than a look of bored disdain. Once that look had hit home, she would move the conversation on to a subject of her choosing, often one designed to make their guest uncomfortable. It was a lesson in navigating the shark-infested waters of the ton that Ella was keen to learn. Whether she’d ever have the gravitas to make it work like Mintie did was another matter.

  On practising the dowager’s quelling look before the mirror, Nancy had remarked she looked more like a disgruntled kitten.

  It was most disheartening.

  Of an evening they all dined together, and Ella had to admit it was a convivial affair. Oscar and Bertie were great company, as was Mintie, and the conversation was light-hearted and amusing. On evenings when the Viscount Featherstone was also in attendance the company would often descend into noisy banter, as he enjoyed riling the younger men with his good-natured ribbing.

  Oscar seemed to be pleased enough with their arrangement, and Ella despaired that anything would ever change. Since their initial tête-à-tête, Mintie had held her tongue and given no advice, saying only that they needed to take a few weeks to settle down.

  Ella sighed with impatience. Something had to change. The more time she spent with Oscar the more she ached to touch him. If she wasn’t careful, she could spend an entire evening gazing at him like some half-witted mooncalf, lost in daydreams of what her life might be like if he noticed her.

  One thing positive thing was Mintie’s introduction to Madame Dubois, her modiste. Privately, Ella thought that Madame Dubois was about as French as she was, and spoke even less of the language. She held her tongue, though, as she’d always admired her mother-in-law’s impeccable taste and wasn’t about to offend the clever seamstress who had accomplished many of Mintie’s most glamorous outfits.

  Madam had considered her figure as Ella waited, standing on her plinth. Madam then walked a slow circle around her with a frown on her face.

  Mintie had warned her she was likely to have her feathers ruffled by the woman, who could be blunt, but that the outcome would be well worth it.