The Corinthian Duke Page 9

  As Madam pinched and pinned, measured and made disparaging remarks about her less than ample bosom in dubiously accented French, Ella hoped she was right.

  She discovered her first opportunity to exhibit Madam’s wares would be at a ball given by her father.

  Ella had frowned at the invitation and demanded Bertie explain what was going on.

  “Well, it’s in your honour, you goose,” he said, tucking into a hearty breakfast of sirloin steak.

  Ella grimaced at his plate and lifted her hot chocolate to her lips.

  “Yes, but now?” She placed the cup down, a disquieting feeling sliding under her skin. “Isn’t it a bit late?”

  “Well, he could hardly have done it before, with Pearl doing her best Lady Macbeth impression.”

  “I don’t see what’s changed,” Ella retorted, her voice tart.

  Bertie snorted and shot her a grin. “Pearl has. She seems to have accepted the situation and, according to father, she’s thrown herself into the preparations. He thinks it a good opportunity for the family to show a united front, squash the gossips and help the scandal die down.”

  Ella lifted her cup again and took another sip as this idea circled her brain. She gave her brother a sideways glance. “And what do you think?”

  Bertie shrugged, finished chewing the mouthful of steak and gave her a direct look. “I think you ought to watch your back.”

  This was what Ella had been thinking herself and so came as no surprise. Pearl would not allow her to steal her husband and her title and do nothing to make her pay. No doubt she would do everything she could to upstage Ella and to make everyone say Oscar was a fool for getting himself in such a fix. No doubt Pearl would play the jilted lover to the hilt.

  If Ella had believed for one moment that Pearl’s heart had been in any way damaged by what had happened, she’d never have been able to forgive herself, but it was the money and the power her sister was lamenting. She didn’t give a damn for Oscar. She only cared that Ella had what she’d believed to be hers.

  Ella sighed. If only Pearl knew what she was suffering, she’d realise she already had her perfect revenge. At least Pearl was free now. With a face like hers, she’d have no trouble making another brilliant match if that was what she desired. She might even fall in love.

  “I feel like I might have a cold coming,” Ella said, clearing her throat as Bertie gave her a pitying look.

  “And I don’t blame you for it, but you can’t shirk it, Ella. If you’re not there it will look worse for you and Pearl will be the centre of attention, just as she’s hoping.”

  “She will be that anyway,” Ella muttered.

  “Good Lord, Bertie, you still at the trough?”

  They both looked up as Oscar strode in. He looked gloriously handsome, dressed for riding in tight-fitting breeches. An unwelcome heat bloomed under Ella’s skin and she wished her husband didn’t have to look quite so mouth-watering; it was dreadfully unfair.

  “No, no, I’m done,” Bertie said, sliding his plate away and throwing his napkin on the table top.

  “Oh, good morning, Ella,” Oscar said as Bertie rose, only then noticing she was there.

  Ella gave an inward sigh and smiled at him.

  “Good morning, Oscar.”

  He dithered, looking as if he couldn’t wait to leave.

  “Well, see you later, then,” he said with a wave of his hand as he followed her brother from the room as fast as he could.

  “Yes, I’m sure you will,” Ella replied under her breath.

  Well, that was her interaction with her husband for the day, then. He was always up at the crack of dawn and breakfasted before her and Bertie. They’d not see each other again until dinnertime, no doubt. Occasionally when their paths crossed, he attempted to enquire after her health or ask if she’d slept well. If he was feeling really loquacious, he might ask what her plans were. If he’d have asked her that today she might have replied that she would do her best to think of a way to stop her sister from annihilating her before the cream of the ton.

  He hadn’t asked. however, so Ella kept that to herself.

  ***

  “Ella, do stop fidgeting. You look perfectly lovely,” Oscar’s mother scolded her.

  She’d been ready for some time and so waited with her mother-in-law as that glamorous creature put the final touches to her own toilette.

  Ella sighed and tried to sit still, placing her hands one on top of the other. She looked well tonight, she knew that. The trouble was that sitting next to Mintie made that hard to remember. She watched as the dowager regarded her reflection in the mirror and sighed.

  “Damn these wrinkles. Getting old is so tiresome, Ella.”

  Ella snorted. “You look divine, Mintie, and well you know it.”

  Mintie returned an arch look from under thick eyelashes. “Yes, but it takes so much longer than it used to.”

  She got to her feet with a swish of silken skirts and looked Ella over with a critical eye. “I will say this for Madam Dubois, she has the most marvellous eye for colour.”

  Ella couldn’t disagree. Her gown was a soft lilac grey, a colour she would not have chosen for herself in a million years, yet it brought out the colour in her grey eyes and the rather severe cut added an air of sophistication that Ella sorely lacked. At least she hoped she looked all her nineteen years and not like a child. It would be a start.

  Mintie wore a startling light emerald green, which on any other woman would have looked garish. It made her look like the goddess of spring, however. Ella repressed a niggle of jealousy and tried not to wonder what Pearl would be wearing.

  She didn’t have to wait long to find out.

  Any pleasure that Ella might have found at entering the ballroom of her home on the arm of her handsome husband evaporated within moments. The ton packed the room, the glamorous and the wealthy shoehorned into the crush, all of them straining for a glimpse of the scandalous new Duchess of Rothborn.

  Pearl hurried up to them, her lovely face wreathed in smiles and warmth.

  “Darling Ella, and darling Oscar. How lovely to see you both.”

  She kissed Ella, looking like a devoted sister to the world, whilst the hand that grasped Ella’s arm gave her a vicious pinch. Ella jolted and moved back, and instantly realised as Pearl returned a look of hurt that it would appear as if Ella had rejected her warm greeting.

  Oscar looked between the two of them, puzzled.

  “Pearl,” he said, his tone cautious.

  Pearl made a show of collecting herself and beamed at him. She leaned in, standing on tiptoes with one hand resting lightly on his chest as she kissed his cheek. “I must kiss my new brother,” she said, her tone low as she looked up at him from under her lashes.

  A low murmur rippled over the room.

  Ella gritted her teeth. It would seem they had declared war.

  The night did not get any better.

  Pearl flirted outrageously with Oscar who, to be fair, did not return her behaviour with anything more than polite comments, though there was a curious look in his eyes. No doubt he longed to bed the glorious creature, for Pearl was stunning. More so than usual.

  Her gown was white with a silk overskirt which seemed to catch the light and change colour, giving her a pearlescent look that suited both her golden blonde hair and creamy skin. There were many charming comments made about her name and her beautiful appearance, and Pearl lapped them up like a smug cat with a bowl full to the brim of cream.

  Ella endured as best she could, smiling until her face hurt and deflecting the curious questions of those who tried to get to the truth of her sudden nuptials. When Pearl claimed the dance she had demanded from Oscar, however, Ella could take no more.

  She watched for a moment or two, listening to the whispers around her remarking what a handsome couple they made. They did too. Not that it was a surprise. They’d always looked the perfect couple: golden and beautiful, a matched pair. It hurt, though, and the pain that lanced
through her heart made her skin ache with longing.

  Ella escaped. Nobody would notice her go. Not with Pearl and Oscar to watch. That was always the case. Unless she was doing something dreadful and causing a scene, no one noticed her at all.

  The conservatory had always been one of her favourite rooms of the house. The night was cooler here, too, a slight dampness to the air from the hundreds of plants packed into the space. She walked to the doors and gazed outside at the dark gardens, seeing only her own reflection staring back at her. Until another figure appeared.

  Ella spun around, startled, to see the Duke of Ranleigh watching her.

  “Oh my,” she said, laughing and putting a hand to her heart. “You startled me.”

  “My apologies, your grace,” he said, his voice warm. “I noticed you leaving the ballroom and I wanted to assure myself that you were well.”

  “Of course,” Ella said, trying to fight the blush that was staining her cheeks. He knew why she’d left the room. “I… I needed a little air.”

  “I don’t blame you,” he said, a smile hovering over his mouth. “You sister is quite a piece of work, but then she always has been.”

  Ella gaped at him, a little stunned by such a wicked comment.

  “I-I beg your pardon?” she stammered, wondering if she’d perhaps misinterpreted his words.

  Ranleigh’s mouth curved into a smile, his eyes warm and alight with amusement.

  “You’ll forgive my plain speaking, I hope, but your husband has had a lucky escape. Perhaps he does not realise that yet, but he’s not a fool. He’ll get there.”

  Ella swallowed, staring at the man with her heart in her throat. That she was here, alone with him, was bad enough. She ought to be outraged at hearing him speak so about her sister, but a shameful, malicious part of her wanted to cling to his words.

  “Why would you say that?”

  The duke shrugged, the movement rolling his powerful shoulders. He was a big man, a handsome one, exuding power, though his expression was amiable.

  “Because I am an experienced man, and I’ve known many women like your sister. She’ll reap what she sows eventually. There is no need for you to worry about her. Oscar is a foolish boy at times, but he’s not as foolish as that.”

  Ella blushed deeper now, appalled that her jealousy should be so obvious, but there was no point in denying it. “But they make such a beautiful couple. She’s stunning. How could he not want her?”

  The words almost choked her, especially admitted to someone who was almost a stranger to her. Yet she had the sudden desire to confide in him. He seemed the kind of man you could confide your darkest secrets too, and know he’d keep them safe.

  Ranleigh stared at her for a moment and then stepped a little further into the room. “Perhaps he desires her. She’s superficially lovely, I grant you, but he would not dishonour you like that. I’m sure. Lady Pearl’s machinations cannot hurt you in that way.”

  “It makes no difference,” Ella said, hearing the defeat in her words. “I’m glad it’s not her, but there will be others, there are others. The duke only married me to save my reputation; he never wanted….” She shrugged. He’d never wanted her. She didn’t need to say the words; they were obvious.

  “Do you know you have always been my favourite debutante?”

  Ella glanced up at him, searching for the mockery in his expression, or in his words, but there appeared to be none.

  “Then you have most peculiar taste,” she retorted.

  He lifted one elegant eyebrow. “My taste is impeccable and not in question.”

  The remark was somewhat quelling, and Ella bristled.

  “Well, then you ought not say such odd things, or people might doubt that.”

  He chuckled then a warm sound that slid under her skin.

  “You have spirit, Duchess, and a lively mind. I also believe you are loyal to those you love, and utterly fearless.”

  She frowned at him, quite at a loss. “Whatever are you talking about?”

  Ella watched as he strolled around the room, or perhaps prowled was a better word. He was sinuous, and very graceful for such a large man. She felt a prickle of something that might have been unease, but she did not feel in any way threatened by him. Perhaps she was a fool for that.

  “After the little scene I stumbled upon with Ranleigh in the King’s Stables, I took myself off to congratulate Mr Camden on his run. I even considered trying to entice him away from your husband, to ride for me… except it soon became clear that Willy Camden was no longer there. Some discreet digging turned up his whereabouts, and… his state of health.”

  Ella experienced a little ripple of panic that thrilled under her skin as he continued to speak.

  “So, naturally, I became curious as to who had ridden Virago to victory. That little scene with Oscar in the stall puzzled me, you see. Though I flatter myself that I can see your worth, Oscar’s tastes have always been rather more obvious. So, I returned to the stables, by which time everyone had gone, but a little survey of the stall furnished me with some intriguing evidence.”

  It was a strange thing, but Ella had been burning hot just moments ago, her blush searing her cheeks. Now she shivered, watching as the Duke of Ranleigh reached into an inside pocket and removed a shiny, dark curl.

  “I like your new hairstyle, your grace. It’s charming and suits you very well.”

  “W-What do you want?” she demanded, hot and cold all at once now. She backed away from him as her stomach twisted with panic.

  The duke’s eyes widened and he laughed, shaking his head.

  “No, no, you foolish child. I have no wish to destroy you. Here, take it. A gift from me to you.”

  He held out the lock of hair to her and Ella frowned at him, puzzled. “I suppose you have others, though, under lock and key. This one means nothing.”

  Ranleigh let out a breath which sounded just a trifle indignant. “My, my, you are determined to cast me as the villain in this affair, and here I was trying my utmost to play the hero.”

  “Whatever for?” she exclaimed, snatching the lock of hair and tucking it under the neckline of her gown.

  “I haven’t the faintest idea now,” he said, reproach in his eyes. “It seems a most unrewarding role.”

  “Oh, you’re impossible.” Ella glared at him and he gave a huff of laughter.

  “Very well,” he said, his dark eyes glittering with amusement. “Let me start over. When I was a very foolish young man, younger than Oscar, I got into something of a fix. The late Duke of Rothborn, Oscar’s father, got me out of it. He became a dear friend and someone I admired deeply. I have tried to be a friend to his son, but I made a mull of it and now the boy despises me.”

  Ella lifted her eyebrows, surprised. “I’ve always wondered why he hated you.”

  Ranleigh shrugged, a rueful expression touching his lips. “Because I do not have the light touch his father had. I once tried to give him some advice, good advice, but I ended up making him feel foolish. It wasn’t my intention, but there you have it. A young man’s pride is a fragile thing and I flatter myself that Oscar rather looked up to me at the time. Such idolatry can turn to resentment when one’s pride has taken a blow, however.”

  “Goodness,” Ella replied, staring at the duke anew. She believed him, there was too much candour in his words to doubt him. “Well, tonight is full of surprises.”

  “Does that mean you will consider casting me as the hero after all?” Ranleigh asked mildly.

  Ella couldn’t help the smile that curved over her mouth. He really was absurd, but very charming.

  “I think it is a distinct possibility,” she replied, her tone grave. “Though I’m not sure how you intend to be heroic, other than not ruining me by telling everyone the truth.”

  “You have my word of honour I will take that story to my grave,” he said with the utmost seriousness. “However, I could not pass up the opportunity to tell you what an extraordinary creature you are, Ella. Th
at you did such a thing for Oscar, it quite takes my breath away.” The words were low and made her shiver as he moved forward and took her hand, raising it to his lips. “You have my deepest admiration.”

  Ella blushed again, though for different reasons this time. The look in Ranleigh’s eyes was frank and admiring. No man had ever looked at her in such a way.

  “Ranleigh, what the devil are you playing at?”

  Ella jolted out of her skin as her husband’s angry voice rang out across the conservatory.

  Ranleigh’s eyes met hers and he gave her a wink, the slightest shake of his head. “Don’t tell him anything,” he whispered. He turned to face Oscar.

  “Ah, Rothborn, there you are. I was just wondering why you had left this lovely creature all alone. You ought to be more careful. Someone might realise what a jewel you’ve won… before you do.”

  Oscar strode down the steps into the conservatory, resplendent in his evening dress and making Ella feel a rush of pride and desire. He looked furious, almost possessive, and for a moment her hopes rose.

  He moved closer, his eyes never leaving Ranleigh’s. “Stay away from my wife. You lost your bet and you’ll not best me in any other arena, I promise you.”

  “I wish you may be right,” Ranleigh murmured, turning to give Ella a rather mischievous look that her husband could not see. “Well, now you have claimed this charming creature and taken her to safety, I can consider my duty discharged. Good evening, Duchess,” he said, with the slightest inclination of his head. “I wish you a pleasant evening.”

  He gave Oscar an amused smile which even Ella could see had been designed to irritate the hell out of him, and sauntered away. Ella repressed a grin and then started as Oscar turned on her in fury.

  “What the bloody hell are you playing at, you little fool? People will talk about our sudden marriage for years as it is. What more do you want from me? Haven’t you caused enough of a scandal? Do you want another?”

  There was an impatient look in his eyes, as though he was dealing with a recalcitrant child.

  “What? No!” Ella exclaimed, stung by his anger. “I only came to get a breath of air and he followed me.”