Chapter Nine

Nine months. They had nine months left to marry or lose their fortunes forever.

It was as if there was a ticking clock in William’s head, hands gradually counting down the minutes until time ran out altogether, and they were left trapped. Trapped, poor, and frustrated.

Conversation bloomed all around William, the other party guests chatting and laughing between themselves. Everybody was having a good time, it seemed.

Well, not everybody . Henry sat opposite with a face like thunder. He seemed remarkably sour for a man sitting beside Miss Sophia Redford, the Diamond of the Season and a shockingly beautiful girl. She was too young and silly for William’s taste, but that didn’t mean the widow his mother had chosen was any better.

Lady Victoria Hayward sat on William’s right, leaning just a little too close. She had been a real beauty in her first Season or two and had married some baronet or other. She was now more beautiful than pretty, with strong features and the assured air of somebody who always got her way.

The Dowager Duchess of Dunleigh, William’s mother, had had a hand in the seating arrangements, which was why Henry was sitting next to Miss Sophia and William was beside Lady Victoria. Alexander was sandwiched between a pair of dour matrons, which was probably for the best, all things considered. The man was already half-drunk. William would need to keep an eye on him as the night progressed – any misbehavior or scandal would reflect directly on him , the current Duke of Dunleigh.

“Your Grace?”

It took William a full minute to realize that Lady Victoria was speaking to him .

“I’m sorry, what were you saying?” he said at once, jerking himself out of his reverie and turning to face her. Manners were everything. Everybody was looking at him. He was the youngest Duke of Dunleigh anybody had ever heard of, and the youngest Duke in Society by at least a couple of decades. Everybody was watching him, and he could afford no missteps .

“I was saying,” Lady Victoria said, with an air of strained patience, “That you must miss your dear papa so very much.”

William missed a beat. “Yes, of course I do. His loss is felt keenly.”

That wasn’t technically a lie – the old Duke’s loss was felt keenly, but not in a bad way.

“When I lost my papa,” Lady Victoria continued, “I shut myself up from Society for a full year and a half. It drove my husband wild. However, I admire those who can persevere, and simply get on with their lives. Like Lady Katherine, marrying so soon. And all of you gentlemen here tonight. Persevering. ”

William eyed her, trying to work out whether she was sniping at him or not. Aside from the long wait after the funeral, when they had to wait for Henry to return from his travels to have the will read, he and his siblings had not had the leisure to sit and grieve. They’d had a year to get themselves down the aisle, or live destitute.

Not a year. Nine months, now.

The familiar feeling of dread bubbled up in William’s gut, and he swallowed hard, trying to ignore it. He couldn’t even excuse himself from the table or go home early. Every detail of what he did would be observed and recorded. The gossip columns were having a wonderful time with the Willenshire family. William firmly told his family to ignore it all, and then secretly bought copies of all the scandal sheets and gossip columns to read himself in his study.

“I found that it helped to recall particularly poignant memories with my papa,” Lady Victoria was saying now. “Happier times, you know? I’m sure you have a veritable library of happy memories with yours.”

William pressed his lips into a thin line. She couldn’t be mocking him now. The old Duke had presented a carefully curated face to the world, seeming to be a strict yet fair papa, and a firm but loving husband.

Lies, lies, and more lies.

“Oh, yes,” he managed. “So many I am quite spoiled.”

Lady Victoria beamed, and thankfully did not require an example. She turned to her other side, talking to the lady there, and William had the leisure to look down at his food again .

The most vivid memory of their father, in William’s recollection, was the last one.

He could still see the way his father’s face crumpled with anger and disgust.

“ I don’t expect any child of mine to give up so easily, William. Especially not the man who will be Duke of Dunleigh one day. I’m not entirely sure I can call you a man.”

“ I can’t ride that wretched thing, Father. You know I can’t.”

“ Are you afraid of a little tumble?”

“ I’m afraid of breaking my neck.”

“ Very well. If nobody here is brave enough to climb onto a horse’s back, I shall do it.”

The horse in question was a great, glossy black brute by the name of Midnight, more than half wild. It would let nobody on its back, certainly not William. Full of disgust at his ‘cowardly’ children, the old Duke had climbed on Midnight’s back himself, to prove a point.

The horse had thrown him, killing him instantly. Sometimes, in William’s dreams, he had found himself back in that paddock again, with full knowledge of what was going to happen. He then faced a dilemma. Did he stop his father getting on that horse, and doom them all to another few decades of torture? Or did he allow it, and become a murderer?

They were never pleasant dreams. What was worse, William had nearly always chosen to let his father climb into the saddle and ride away. It wasn’t a pleasant thing to know about oneself.

He shuddered, and suddenly Lady Victoria’s hand was on his forearm.

“You are shivering, your Grace,” she breathed, eyes wide. “Are you cold? Ill? May I fetch a footman for you?”

“No! No, thank you, Lady Victoria. I’m quite well, just a little tired, I think.”

“Ah,” she responded, eyeing him narrowly. “I hope you don’t intend to slip away early, your Grace. There’s more dancing after dinner.”

William’s heart sank. Of course, they’d dance till dawn at a party like this. He didn’t mind a little dancing in moderation, but parties like this never did anything moderately . He would be expected to dance with as many of the single ladies as he could, until his feet felt like they were on fire and his legs had gone numb. It was a mark of pride in some more fashionable ladies to wear thin silk dancing slippers, commissioned for one ball only, and wear through the soles by the end of the night.

He'd already danced with Lady Victoria once, at the Dowager’s insistence. A second dance would indicate interest, and she would be within her rights to try and pursue him.

William intended to avoid that. Lady Victoria was nice enough, but he recognized the calculating, mercenary look in her eyes. She had married a baronet before, and now she would try for a Duke. He was richer than her late husband – or at least, he would be, once he was married – and younger, and more handsome.

Lady Victoria was clawing her way up in the world with remarkable astuteness, and William did not particularly want to be a rung on her ladder.

So he only smiled wanly and said nothing, turning his attention to his dinner.

There were far too many courses left, but the meal couldn’t last forever, and then William could escape.

Air, he thought miserably, swigging down a glass of wine and trying not to think of his father’s expression when he looked at him for the last time. I need air.

“ I’m not entirely sure I can call you a man,” the old Duke spat in William’s head, no matter how loud the conversation got. He was starting to believe he’d never drown it out.

***

The balcony was empty, to William’s relief.

He stepped out of the clear glass doors and dragged in a deep breath of cool, clear air. The heated air of the ballroom, already breathed in and out by a hundred people at least, had started to sting his lungs.

There were rules about going onto the balconies at parties. There were rules for everything in Society. Ladies weren’t supposed to go out unattended. A gentleman, if he stepped out and saw a lady alone, would bow and excuse himself. If a lady came out while he was there alone, he would also excuse himself .

Rules, rules, rules. Sometimes William thought he might drown in them all. Even more rules applied to him. Henry and Alexander could get away with much more, because they were the second and third sons respectively, and not the Duke , and therefore could enjoy more freedom.

Not that much more, though.

Leaning against the cool stone of the wall, William peered down into the garden, all shrouded in darkness. How pleasant it would be to walk down there, unseen by anybody, and simply enjoy some time alone with his thoughts. Nobody wanting small talk, no compliments to give or pleasantries to exchange. Just himself and the peaceful night.

Almost without realizing what he was doing, William reached into his pocket for the locket he kept there. He’d polished it up, once or twice, simply because the shine had worn off on account of him touching it, which he really should not do. The locket should be kept in a drawer and forgotten, or else disposed of – the owner hadn’t come looking for it, had she?

William bit his lip, glancing down at the glittering oval. He knew the picture inside off by heart and had wondered countless times whose child it was. He could recall every detail of the lady in blue. He was sure he would recognize her, blue dress or not, but she wasn’t here, he was sure of it.

Why didn’t I get her name? What a fool I was.

“I take it you haven’t found your mysterious lady, then?”

He flinched, glancing over his shoulder. Henry stood there, hands jammed in his pockets, smiling wryly.

“No,” William answered shortly. “I haven’t.”

“Pity. Do you intend to carry that locket around for the rest of the Season?”

“It looks valuable, and has a portrait inside it,” he answered defensively, pushing the locket back in his pocket. “I’m just trying to be a gentleman.”

“You surpassed the boundaries of gentlemanly a long time ago. We all know that the lady-gentleman idea is nonsense. It’s designed to keep people in their proper places. It keeps the women at home, with their children, and gives the men freedom to do what they want, so long as they’re polite about it. ”

William sighed. “You’ve spent too much time in Paris, I think.”

“And you’re blind as a bat. Do you think I’m wrong?”

“I think that now isn’t the right time to discuss the building blocks of our Society.”

“Fair enough,” Henry conceded, coming to stand beside his older brother. The two of them stood in silence for a moment or two, elbows resting on the stone wall, staring out at the darkness. Far below, a pair of footmen walked across the courtyard, talking in low voices. The shorter footman made a comment, and the other laughed quietly at it.

“I bet they don’t have to dance until their feet feel as though they’re going to fall off,” Henry muttered.

“No,” William conceded, “but they do have to stand until they want to collapse and offer drinks to drunken fools like you and me until the sun comes up. And then, when we all go home, they have to clean up after us.”

Henry eyed his brother. “And you called me a revolutionary.”

“Hm. Well, what are you doing out here? Isn’t the delightful Sophia Redford waiting for you inside?”

“Yes,” Henry responded shortly, “and that’s why I’m out here. She’s a beautiful girl, but entirely full of herself. I can’t stir a step without her mamma collaring me and dragging me off to converse with them. And what about you and your merry widow? You’re the Duke of Dunleigh, you could have any of the debutantes for asking.”

William winced, conjuring up an image of the terrified, wide-eyed girls in white, some no older than sixteen or seventeen, making their first come-out. The poor things were besieged by men, some old enough to be their fathers or even grandfathers.

“I think I’d like to marry an adult woman, thank you very much, Henry.”

“Mother knows you well, then. She pushed Lady Victoria towards you. What about it, then? You could marry her.”

William bit his lip until he tasted copper.

“I want to be in love, Henry,” he blurted out, and immediately wished he hadn’t. Henry shifted to look at him, his expression unreadable in the gloom .

“Well,” he said softly. “Is that my austere older brother displaying a feeling ? I had no idea.”

“Don’t laugh at me.”

“I’m not,” Henry shot back, and it sounded as if he meant it. “I know how you feel. Marriage is… it’s sacred, is it not? It should be special. Katherine married a man she loves, and she’s happy. I see plenty of marriages of convenience, and nobody seems to be having a good time. I don’t know what I’m waiting for, William, but I think I want the same as you. I want to marry someone I care for.”

William clenched his fingers into tight fists, longing to take out the locket and smooth the pad of his thumb over its patterned surface.

“We don’t have time for that, though,” he said at last. “For love, or anything like that, really. Father saw to that.”

Henry’s lip curled. “Yes, yes, he did. But wouldn’t it be nice to spit in his face, to let the whole fortune slip away? He wouldn’t have expected that.”

William turned away from the dark garden.

“I don’t have that option, Henry,” he answered simply. “I just don’t. Come, we should go back inside.”