Chapter 18

CHAPTER 18

“ T here you are, Cecilia. I hope my parents have been taking good care of you.”

With an affectionate smile, Madeline sat down next to her sister-in-law at the supper table and touched her shoulder lightly. Lord and Lady Terrell sat opposite with full plates, Madeline’s mother surreptitiously offloading extra morsels onto Cecilia’s plate while her attention was distracted. Her good-hearted parents needed little further guidance when asked to take the young woman under their wing.

Still a little too thin, Cecilia nonetheless looked well in the pale blue ballgown Gabrielle had chosen and adjusted to fit her slender form. Her thick, wavy locks of dark hair had been gathered and pinned with silver crystal-studded pins, and her green eyes were a little wary but not fearful despite the crowds around them.

“We danced the quadrille,” Cecilia told Madeline with a smile. “I hadn’t danced in years before tonight. I enjoyed it.”

“What fun we had!” chuckled Lord Terrell. “Your mother and I danced with Cecilia and Benedict. Then halfway through, we swung around and swapped partners completely. Your mother danced the gentleman’s part for a while, and I did the lady’s. Everyone else was so confused, but we did laugh, didn’t we? We swapped back again towards the end just to see their faces.”

Madeline hid her dismay, glad that her stress over Charles had at least shielded her from the minor embarrassment of her family’s undignified cavorting on the dance floor.

“I’m glad you’re all having such a good time,” she commented.

“Aren’t you enjoying your ball, Madeline?” asked her mother, popping a large prawn into her mouth with great relish. “It looked like you were trying to dance with every man here earlier. Did they all tread on your toes?”

“A hostess must be polite,” Madeline shrugged with a smile, not even attempting to explain or justify her movements that evening.

“Every man except your husband,” pointed out Lord Terrell. “Letitia danced with him twice though. That young blonde girl had to dance with her brother again. I think she’d been angling for Duke Charles, but Letitia is such a wonderful dancer. She takes after me, I think.”

“Indeed?” said Madeline tightly, her mind focusing only on Lady Juliette’s pursuit of Charles.

She could not share her father’s view that her husband had chosen to avoid the girl by dancing with Letitia. Knowing her sister, Letitia had simply refused to let go of a good partner because she was having such fun. Ironically, it seemed that her antipathy towards Duke Charles had melted while Madeline’s had been renewed.

“Charles and Madeline danced the waltz,” Cecilia spoke up as if in Madeline’s defense. “I thought they danced beautifully together, too.”

Madeline thanked her sister-in-law for this compliment and readied herself to leave for the buffet to collect her meal, unwilling to get deeper into such a conversation. She stopped and smiled politely as a gray-haired man approached their table, champagne glass in hand, and a broad smile on his red-cheeked face.

“Duchess Madeline, what a fine event! You are to be congratulated on your, home, your staff, and your hospitality.”

Lord Oakley underlined his words with a broad sweep of his arm that almost knocked a tray of drinks from a footman’s arm.

Archibald Barton had evidently enjoyed the champagne more than anything else to Madeline’s quick and slightly weary eye. His expression was too merry for this point in the evening, and she noticed Cecilia flinch and stiffen under the man’s gaze. Why was there always one such over-refreshed older man at every ball?

“You are too kind, Lord Oakley. I hope that your children share your generous opinions. You must have met my parents, Lord and Lady Terrell?”

“Yes, indeed. Very, very pleased, honored…honored to make your acquaintance this week. An honor, a true honor,” he said vaguely but fulsomely. “A fine, fine event…”

“You should get some food, Lord Oakley, before the music begins again and the dancing restarts. I should hate for you to go hungry, and there are several whole salmon prepared in different guises. The orange and dill would be my recommendation.”

Despite Madeline’s hint, Archibald Barton lingered beside their table.

“Oh, I never dance nowadays. My dancing days are behind me, but Lady Cecilia must remember my dancing here when I was more spritely. Come now, no need for pretend blushes and downcast eyes from a young lady in possession of such charms. Aside from our celestial hostess and my Juliette, you must be the most beautiful creature at the ball. Any man here would want to…”

His expression as he addressed the young woman was almost leering, and Cecilia looked absolutely terrified. He could not have chosen a worse recipient for his poorly judged compliments.

“Lord Oakley, you are under a misapprehension. You are not well acquainted with Lady Cecilia. Let us find Henry, shall we?”

Madeline stood immediately and placed herself between them as she spoke. She was likely strong enough to discreetly deter the approach of a man of Lord Oakley’s age and physique if necessary.

She was also glad that her father was close by if this man proved more drunken or difficult than she’d guessed. Lord Terrell had cleared his throat loudly and nodded to her already. Still, it could become a more serious matter once another man was involved rather than a woman. Madeline would prefer to avoid an unfortunate scene at her first ball.

“Not acquainted? Haha,” said Lord Oakley with a too-loud laugh, apparently unaware of the bristling of every member of his present audience. “I thought I was more memorable than that. The boy’s a washout isn’t he? Harry, Harry, Harry… Didn’t manage a dance with any of you ladies tonight, did he?”

Somehow Gabrielle had appeared and come to Madeline’s side, rather like a small fierce soldier lending her support. Despite her slight physique, the Frenchwoman had resourcefulness and a presence of mind that her mistress found reassuring. She was regarding the older man with something like cool contempt.

“I thought you might need something, Duchess Madeline,” she said in polite French-accented tones that told Madeline she was ready to do whatever was required.

“My word, a Frenchie!” exclaimed Lord Oakley on hearing her voice. “I was in Paris before the Revolution, you know. What a city! The food, the wine, the women. Oh yes, the women…”

“Lord Oakley and I are going to get some supper,” announced Madeline, taking the man’s arm in a hold it would have been both difficult and rude to shake off. “I have been dancing all night, and I am famished. Gabrielle, please take care of Lady Cecilia and my parents. Come, Lord Oakley.”

Thankfully, the drunken man let himself be steered away without very much resistance and was soon diverted into talk of his past business exploits, every one of which seemed to end in “but I got the better of him, of course…”

Several times, his mind veered off towards the appearance and personal attractions of women around the room. Madeline cut him off and redirected him on each occasion, making a mental note that he was a man unsafe to be left alone with young ladies, especially after a few drinks.

“And the mill you mentioned in Amsterdam, what happened to that?” Madeline enquired as she took some ham from a silver tray and surrounded it with salads and cheese.

She also assembled a second plate for Lord Oakley with larger servings of everything available. Given Charles’ designs on the man, his drunkenness tonight must be tolerated and managed. Solid food and weak drink currently seemed the best way to accomplish this.

“All fools, every one of the other investors. I had to take charge eventually for everyone’s sake. Would have been ruined otherwise. Got the better of them all in the end, of course.”

“Of course,” Madeline agreed, taking a cup of weak punch for herself and swapping another cup for the glass in Lord Oakley’s hand. “I think your glass is cracked, Lord Oakley. You must try the punch instead.”

She pushed the piled plate into his other hand, brooking no refusal.

“Now, do come and join me at a table over there. Or will your son and daughter be missing you, perhaps?”

“My Juliette… What a beautiful girl, what perfect temper and deportment. I tell you, it will be hard to find a husband worthy of her hand, Duchess Madeline.”

Best someone equally dull and interested only in superficial appearances, Madeline thought to herself while feeling slightly ashamed of her spite. Lady Juliette was too young and too ignorant to deserve such contempt.

Lord Oakley allowed himself to be seated at a small table and downed the punch in a gulp. Madeline subtly shook her head to ward off Loxton the footman as he circulated with a tray of champagne and mixed spirits.

Did Charles really want to go into business with such a man? Someone who drank to excess, boasted, and importuned his invalid sister whether it was a misunderstanding or not? While Oakley appeared to have been heavily involved in low-country investment for decades, wishing to associate with him seemed incredible. But then, so did most of Charles’s recent behavior.

“Do you have any suitors in mind?” Madeline enquired, sensing another safe and appropriate subject that might pass the time as they ate.

“In a first Season, it is best to wait. Who knows what opportunities might arise? I have told Juliette not to attach herself to any particular suitors as yet.”

Was this why the young woman was spending so much time with Charles? Was he a safe man, given her father’s injunctions not to attach herself to anyone marriageable? It would be an innocent explanation, if still rather irritating to Madeline, but it did nothing to excuse her husband’s actions.

“That sounds sensible. Let her find her feet in society first and become known to those of good family and good taste.”

“It’s a question of her reputation, too,” Lord Oakley said, tapping the side of his nose. “Young ladies are like wild fillies, and their guardians cannot be too careful. Any rumors or unfortunate attachments would reduce her value irrevocably. Juliette is an important investment, and I will not have any man reducing her value.”

Madeline raised her eyebrows a little but forced a smile as she ate. It was a crude statement to make to a lady about his daughter but a view she suspected many society parents silently shared.

“When parents take their eyes off a young woman, anything can happen and often does although discretion is the best option in those cases. I suppose it’s all only nature’s way. Men can’t help themselves when a pretty young woman throws herself in their path, can they?”

“Lord Oakley,” Madeline stopped him now and fixed him with a steely glare, “let me make it clear that at Huntingdon Manor, I expect all gentlemen to show the self-control I know they possess. All young ladies under my roof are under the protection of the Duke of Huntingdon.”

For a second, the gray-haired man seemed startled by her tone and sentiments despite his inebriation. Then he smiled again with a rather sycophantic apology.

“But of course, Your Grace. Forgive my rambling. Any man would have to be immensely brave or foolish indeed to cross the Duchess of Huntingdon.”

“Yes,” Madeline agreed, hoping that he would remember her injunctions well for the rest of the week. “But have you tried your salmon, Lord Oakley? I have given you two varieties.”

“F-F-Father, there you are,” stammered Henry Barton, approaching their table with his sister on his arm. “Ju-Ju- Juliette has been searching for you. She did not want to eat before we f-f-found you.”

“Here I am; do sit down, my dear girl. Harry, don’t just hang about the table like a wet rag, get your sister some supper…”

“I will leave you together to enjoy your meal,” said Madeline. Seeing a good opportunity for escape, she turned Lord Oakley over to his children’s handling. “There are some matters I should attend to before we restart the dancing. Lord Oakley, Lord Morgan, Lady Juliette.”

She stood and nodded politely at each of them in turn, hoping that Harry was at least equal to dealing with his father when in his cups. Walking away, Madeline reflected that there were far worse families to be born into than those merely obsessed with fashion, sculpture, or ancient music.

The second half of the evening passed in a whirl of what felt like enforced gaiety for Madeline. She passed from the arms of one man to another in successive measures, bestowing polite smiles and easy conversation on each. She knew that most people liked it best to talk about themselves and simply gave them the opportunity.

On the fringes of the dance floor, Gabrielle hovered, keeping Madeline furnished with water, a fan, and glances at her dance card to refresh her memory. Her maid looked pensive, but then she had done so for several days.

“Your husband wishes to dance with you again, Duchess Madeline,” said Gabrielle after Madeline returned from a lively reel with John Stephens towards the end of the night.

The Duchess followed the maid’s eyes to the other side of the dance floor where Charles was looking intently in her direction. His eyes were very green and slightly narrowed. Madeline shivered in recalling the same gaze above her face as he worked himself purposefully between her thighs, their hands meshed on the pillow and ecstatic gasps rising in unison.

“Did he say that?” Madeline queried.

“He does not need to say it,” Gabrielle told her. “It is obvious, is it not? You danced together so well in the waltz, Duchess. Why not do so again?”

Madeline hesitated, torn. Gabrielle was correct that she did want to dance with the Duke, just as she was correct that she wanted to be in his arms again. If he had approached her at that moment, she could no longer have resisted on either account.

But then two things happened in the room in quick succession.

Firstly, the small and perfectly formed figure of Juliette Barton popped up yet again beside Charles and appeared to whisper something to him. For a moment, he looked profoundly irritated, but then he sighed and turned to follow her.

Rather than heading towards the rooms set aside for eating and resting during the ball, the girl in virginal white proceeded out of the left-hand doorway at the back wall and along the corridor leading back to the main living areas of the house.

The Duke followed after her without any hesitation.