Chapter 14

Ten minutes later, the Duke of Dawford walked into the drawing room, and Dorothy lowered the book. For a second, their eyes met, and she reflected on how correct she had been in agreeing to Lauren's assertion that he was a very handsome man.

In an evening dress with his dark hair neatly brushed, he might easily have been the best-looking man she had ever met. But it was that intense glow in his deep blue eyes as he regarded her that made her blood sing more than any regularity of his features or the pleasing fit of clothes on his well-built frame.

"Good evening, ladies," he greeted, looking away from Dorothy and coming over to kiss his mother. "Ah, Shakespeare's sonnets. Your favorites, Mother."

"Mine too," Miss Hughes commented. "Far better than that Rime of the Ancient Mariner at this time of the evening, although Her Grace does enjoy Coleridge on occasion. It is a little too exciting to read at night, I find. It keeps us both awake far too late."

"Thank you for reading to my mother," the Duke said, addressing Dorothy now. "I did hope you would have time to get to know one another while I was dressing. The vicar only left half an hour ago, and I've been delayed on that account."

"Have you set the wedding date?" Dorothy asked him, her heart leaping in both anticipation and fright at the very idea.

"The wedding will be held here this Friday at noon," he announced.

"In two days!" Dorothy gasped, the reality of it hitting her hard even though she had insisted on a quick wedding rather than drawing out the inevitable.

"How wonderful for you both!" Miss Hughes trilled sincerely, just like a little songbird.

"Your wedding is on Friday? In two days?" the Dowager Duchess queried with alarm. "This seems very, very rushed, my son. Your father and I were betrothed for almost a full twelve months before our wedding."

"Yes, but your marriage contract was very complicated, Mother, and ours is very simple. There is no reason to wait."

"This young lady you intend to marry has not even turned up for dinner tonight, Aaron, after you promised I could meet her. How can you trust such a woman?"

"Miss Hoskins is right here, Mother," Aaron stated, his brow furrowing. "This is Miss Dorothy Hoskins, the woman I am to marry."

"I know Miss Hoskins," his mother said with dignity. "I will hear no criticism, insult, or jest aimed at this young lady this evening. She has been very kind to me tonight, and once before on account of that terrible beast in the garden."

"Terrible beast?!" Aaron queried, not following his mother's train of thought, but then he sighed and abandoned the attempt. "Shall we go into dinner?"

He offered one arm to his mother and another to Dorothy as Miss Hughes walked into the dining room behind them.

It was an odd meal, to say the least.

While the dining table was a long oak piece covered in pristine white linen, the four places set close were beside one another. Aaron sat at the head of the table, with Dorothy on his right, his mother on his left, and Miss Hughes beside the Dowager Duchess.

"I do not think she is coming," the Dowager Duchess observed, looking first around the table and then the room, as though she believed someone might be hidden in one of the corners or beneath the tablecloth. "The servants have taken her place setting away already. We should not wait any longer on her account."

"Miss Hoskins is here, Mother," Aaron explained patiently. "We are to be married here on Friday, as I said."

"I look forward to joining the household," Dorothy chimed in to buttress his words. "My own mother died when I was young, Your Grace. It has been many years since I lived with other ladies, and I look forward to that too."

"Poor child!" the Dowager Duchess gasped. "You should marry Miss Hoskins, Aaron, rather than this other woman who has shown us both such disrespect through her absence this evening."

Dorothy winced at both the compliment and criticism from the confused elderly woman. How on earth would she manage to make her home here if the Duke's mother remained entirely unable to grasp who she was? Every meal could be like this.

"We are marrying on Friday," Aaron said yet again, gently but firmly. "Do you understand now, Mother?"

"When he makes up his mind, nothing can change it," the Dowager Duchess sighed, shaking her head. "She might be nothing but an ill-mannered gold-digger, for all we know, but if Aaron has set his heart on having her as his wife, then it is done, I suppose. I don't have to like it. What is your view, Miss Hoskins?"

"Your Grace," Dorothy said, turning to Aaron with imploring eyes, her only answer to his mother being an awkward smile. "I do not know how to make Her Grace understand…"

"Call me Aaron," he said suddenly. "At least here in private, Dorothy. In two days, that is whom we shall be to one another, so let us begin tonight."

"That is very forward of you, Aaron." His mother tutted. "You are marrying in two days, by your own admission this very evening, although I do wish you would reconsider. Miss Hoskins might get the wrong idea entirely, even though Miss Hughes and I are here to chaperone her."

"Aaron, please," Dorothy pleaded. "I don't know what to say without making matters worse, but I cannot allow such a tangle to persist. What should I do?"

"Mother, Dorothy and I will be married on Friday," the Duke repeated yet again, his patience with his parent seemingly limitless. "It will be in the garden outside, as long as the weather holds. The ceremony will be small, but the servants may watch if they wish…"

"Yes, indeed. You must also give a punch for the servants to celebrate, Aaron, and cake too. That is how these things are done properly. Louisa can speak to Mrs. Ilkley if you agree…"

"Simply be kind and truthful," Miss Hughes advised Dorothy as Aaron and his mother continued around in circles about his wedding plans and domestic celebration. "These things will untangle themselves in time as Her Grace becomes accustomed to you. She does understand the people and things she encounters every day."

"I do hope you're right," Dorothy said without great conviction.

"Kindness and truthfulness go a long way," the Dowager Duchess concurred, hearing Miss Hughe's words and now turning her attention to this other conversation at the table. "Aaron has always told me that I must not trust people as easily as I'm naturally inclined to do. I was badly deceived by my friends when he was a young boy, very badly deceived indeed…"

"I'm sorry to hear that," Dorothy remarked, thinking of the story Lauren had told her.

This family had lived through such hardship that the Dowager Duchess's mind had broken under the strain, and the Duke—Aaron, she must call him now—had been forced to pick up the mantle of manhood far too young. She wished she could ask more about their past, maybe even mention Lauren. However, the Dowager Duchess's mind seemed too fragile to risk raking over the coals of the past tonight.

"Now it seems that our roles are reversed. Aaron is trusting this woman, and I am warning him against her. It may be that she has trapped him with her wiles and he sees no escape. Such things often happen, Miss Hoskins. Ah, if only I had known when I was young all that I know now…"

"How do you like the beef, Your Grace?" Miss Hughes interjected, tactfully trying to change the subject, since all attempts to fix the truth of the matter in the widow's head had failed.

Aaron sighed, with relief as much as frustration, as his mother started a conversation with her companion about preferred cuts of beef. Dorothy felt compassion for him as well as disappointment and hurt.

"Do you believe matters will resolve themselves, Aaron?" she asked.

"I do," he answered with perfect earnestness. "I have no doubt of that."

Dorothy inhaled sharply as his hand came to rest on her thigh under the table before taking the hand it had actually been seeking and squeezing it. Thankfully, neither of the two older ladies noticed either Aaron's gesture nor Dorothy's response.

Throughout the remainder of the main course, Miss Hughes kindly kept up a steady chatter with the Dowager Duchess on the subject of food. Once pudding was served, Dorothy took over and asked Mary about her favorite Shakespeare sonnets.

The elderly lady smiled at this question, an expression that reached her eyes and made her suddenly look at least a decade younger if not two.

"Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?

Thou art more lovely and more temperate…"

She quoted the full sonnet by heart from beginning to end, finishing with a long sigh.

"Aaron's father used to read that one to me, Miss Hoskins. I still think of him whenever I hear it now. Sitting together with me under the trees in the summer sunshine, his voice reciting those words and his eyes looking at me as though I were the only woman in the world…"

"It is a beautiful poem," Dorothy agreed as they all finally rose from the table. "Your story is very romantic."

"That is how a courtship should be, Aaron." The Dowager Duchess abruptly returned to her earlier troubling theme. "Long hours of poetry under the trees, talking about love and planning your lives together. Not this sudden rush with an unknown woman who doesn't have the courtesy to even meet your mother."

"Dorothy is right here, Mother," he tried again. "My Dorothy."

This expression touched and affected Dorothy as intensely as the brief touch of his hand on her thigh had done at the dining table. In two days, she would indeed be his, for better or for worse. The clock in the hallway rang nine o'clock as they stood outside the dining room, disrupting all other train of thought.

"Time for your warm milk and then bed, Your Grace," Miss Hughes said with cheerful efficiency.

"Would you like some warm milk too, Miss Hoskins?" the Dowager Duchess asked solicitously. "There is nothing like it for ensuring a good night's sleep."

"It is time for Miss Hoskins to return home, Mother," Aaron cut in. "I shall fetch our coats and walk her to her house."

"Aaron!" his mother scolded him. "You will do no such thing. Think of Miss Hoskins' reputation. You cannot be walking a young lady around dark streets at night by yourself. And you are almost a married man too! I don't know what has come over you tonight with such suggestions."

Aaron shot Dorothy an amused look, and she returned his smile.

"If you will allow Betsy to sit with you for ten minutes, Your Grace, I shall accompany His Grace and Miss Hoskins to her family's door," Miss Hughes offered.

"Yes, that would be far more proper," the Dowager Duchess agreed. "You are a man of the world, Aaron, and you must run your own life as you see fit, but I will not have you trifling with Miss Hoskins."

"You are a most excellent mother." Aaron laughed and kissed the Dowager Duchess again on the cheek. "But I assure you, I would never allow Miss Hoskins to be compromised by my actions. You raised me better than that, I believe."

The gray-haired widow looked at her son affectionately and then turned to Dorothy. "Aaron is a good man, Miss Hoskins, and will always act on his honor. I do not imply anything bad about my son through my warnings. But he is still a man, and a young lady cannot be too careful."

"I know that, Your Grace," Dorothy assured her.

She knew very well indeed that Aaron was a man and that he was driven equally by desire and honor. One had led him to take Dorothy so recklessly in his arms in the street outside and the other to insist on marriage, despite her own reluctance, her family's lower rank, and his sensible distaste for her brother.

A few minutes later, after taking her leave of Aaron's mother, the three of them were walking the short distance back to the Hoskins' home. Miss Hughes walked in front of the couple as fast as she could on her tiny legs while Aaron strolled deliberately slowly behind.

"I wouldn't dream of trifling with you, Dorothy," he said quietly. "In case you were wondering about my mother's remark. I do not trifle with innocent young ladies."

"So your kisses are not trifling? Nor your hand on mine under the table at dinner?"

"No, they're deadly serious, I assure you," he answered. "Every kiss and every touch is intentional. Once you are my wife in the eyes of the world, I will show you exactly how serious my attentions are."

Dorothy shivered at this despite the warmth of the night. She could see that hunger in his face once more, held back by his honor in the face of social conventions. They were now outside her father's house, the bright light of the lamps by the front door lighting up half of the street.

"For two more days, I must be at least a little cautious, mustn't I?" Aaron laughed quietly. "Although your eyes tell me that you wish I were not, Dorothy. They are full of fire."

She closed her eyes for a moment, realizing that she had been gazing at his handsome face for several seconds.

"Aaron," she breathed and heard him inhale audibly.

"Turn away, please, Miss Hughes," the Duke instructed and then drew Dorothy out of the light and into a pool of shadow beside a tree in the front garden.

There, he kissed her briefly but passionately, with a suppressed groan of longing as he pulled back. He had first to unfurl Dorothy's fingers, which had curled tightly around his lapels as he again got acquainted with her lips.

Dazed with her own strange longing, Dorothy climbed up the steps in the lamplight and pressed the bell. Such kisses seemed more potent than wine, and she almost fell inside as Patrick opened the door.

Her brother raised his hand in acknowledgment to the two figures at the bottom of the stairs, and he fixed a broad and slightly desperate smile on his face.

"Your Grace, won't you come in for a nightcap…" he tried to call out, but the Duke and Miss Hughes were already walking away.

"Good night, Miss Hoskins. I will call on your family tomorrow…"

"We marry on Friday at noon, Patrick," Dorothy told her brother in as composed a voice as she could manage. "I will begin my packing in the morning."