Chapter 9

CHAPTER9

Matthew Clarke, fifth Marquess of Irington, watched as his daughter proceeded to brutally slaughter her dinner with her fork and knife. Strangely enough, she did not seem inclined to eat the mess she had made on her plate which was unusual, even for her.

He looked over to his cousin, who was staring at Amy’s plate in confusion as well. Their glances met, and both of them, brimming with curiosity, immediately came upon the decision that it would be he who would get to the bottom of things.

He cleared his throat rather audibly. When Amy refused to look up, he did so again. This time, he earned a halfhearted glare from his own daughter.

"So..." he began, "how was your afternoon with your duke?"

"He is not my duke."

His daughter’s resentful voice immediately piqued his interest. Quite often, Amy would refer to men as if they were idiots at best and base creatures at worst. It was the first time she simply let it slide.

"By now, you should have been railing about him," he continued. "Come now, he cannot possibly have any redeeming qualities, can he?"

He knew that teasing his daughter when she was in a foul mood was only going to irritate her further. Truth be told, Amy never acted like the other young ladies of her age, and while he rejoiced in her sensible nature, he also mourned the loss of her youthful naiveté.

If only she had never met that cretin...

But regret only happened in hindsight, and although Amy professed that she would never wed, it was his dearest hope that she would finally be released from the bitterness and resentment that still bound her.

However, it would take a rather extraordinary man to pull his headstrong daughter out of the quagmire she had no idea she was in. He had high hopes for the Duke of Leonbridge and hoped that the young nobleman would not fail him in that regard.

"What? So he has even rendered you speechless?" he remarked in sham amazement. "How peculiar..."

"Father," Amy replied through gritted teeth, "it is bad enough that I must suffer through his presence. I beg of you not to make it any harder for me."

At her words, the Marquess of Irington softened. "He does seem like a fine young man, my dear."

"They always seem that way at first."

"And he has never shown favor for any other young lady in the ton," Aunt Dorothy piped in. "In fact, it could even be said that if it were not for his titles, wealth, and good looks, every unmarried miss and her mother would steer clear of him."

Amy smiled a little at that. "An old and noble title alone could have hordes flocking to a man’s doorstep, regardless of his financial or physical attributes."

"Quite right," her aunt chortled, wiping her lips with a napkin. "Such is the way of Society. But His Grace is a different man, I believe."

"How so?"

"Well... for one, he has never before given much attention to the young ladies..."

"Aunt Dorothy, even I would be driven mad by the inane simpering of young ladies if I was a man."

The Marquess of Irington nearly choked on a piece of chicken at that. For all her quick-witted thinking, it was already a good thing that Amy had not been born a man. He gathered that Amy would send a great number of young ladies to tears if that had been the case.

Still, a man who remained a bachelor was often looked upon more favorably than a spinster.

"Also," Aunt Dorothy continued, "the Duke of Leonbridge was never embroiled in any scandal."

Amy scoffed at that. "Why, that simply means he is much better at it than all the others who got caught!"

"In that case, he should be a fine match for your wits," the Marquess beamed.

"Father!" she protested. "Are you not the least bit concerned that I might fall prey to the schemes of others?"

Matthew Clarke wrinkled his nose. "My sympathy goes to whoever dares to scheme against you, dearest."

"Still," she insisted, "what if the Duke of Leonbridge happens to be a truly odious husband and treats me horribly?"

"Then, I trust you will be able to set him right. Although," he added, "it should not be your job to do so. Regardless... I do not think it need come to that."

"How so?"

"I have a good feeling about this one." The Marquess of Irington leaned back against his chair and smiled, rather pleased with himself. "This one is not like all the other ones."

"I do not know," Amy grumbled. "We have been wrong before. We could be wrong again."

He looked sadly at his daughter, his only child. Even if she never spoke about it, he knew that the death of her mother affected her greatly. However, it was another incident that changed her into this distrustful young woman, unable to accept any affection from those who might be willing to give it to her.

It was why he made that agreement with her in the first place—it was mostly a gamble on his part although he never gambled much. If he could get Amy to open her heart up just a little, he was certain that a man of intelligence could see just how beautiful she was inside as well as outside.

"Sometimes, dearest," he murmured, "you just need to have a little faith and let go."

His words might fall on deaf ears right now, but the Marquess of Irington truly was hopeful for his only child.

And even if she did become a spinster—which he still prayed she wouldn’t—he could rest easy knowing that they all tried.

* * *

Amy closed her eyes and let out a loud sigh as her eyes once more traced the patterns on the canopy of her bed. Dinner had been a rather complicated affair, with both her father and her aunt taking turns to exalt whatever redeemable qualities the Duke of Leonbridge possessed.

They were not wrong, though—he did stand head and shoulders above most other gentlemen in London and not just because of his impressive height. Rather, it was because it seemed that elegance and authority truly were stamped in his being.

Or it could just be plain arrogance. Heaven only knew it was an affliction that was quite common amongst the males of the ton.

He was also quite persistent. After their brief stroll earlier that afternoon, she had witnessed his immense discomfort and was quite certain that her ploy had worked. She had even crowed with triumph over tea with Esther, convinced that she had scared him off for good.

Instead, she and her best friend were invited for an outing with His Grace in his impressive estate—the very same that nearly all of London’s young, unmarried ladies were vying for.

"How could he be so persistent?" she muttered under her breath. "It could not be that he holds some affection for me..."

That thought was so ludicrous that Amy nearly laughed out loud the moment it left her lips. How could a man like the Duke of Leonbridge—tall, darkly handsome, impossibly wealthy, and in possession of one of the noblest titles in England—ever be attracted to her, whom most men would rather steer clear of?

Every single day, when she looked at the mirror, she could never find it in her heart to call herself a beauty. Even Esther was quite pretty with her rich, dark brown hair and wide blue eyes.

Amy, on the other hand, could only be described as passable looking, perhaps.

It could not also be her impressive conversational skills that reeled him in—unless he preferred biting sarcasm as a mode of communication.

No matter how she looked at it, she could not see what part of her he might be attracted to.

On the other hand, he could be considered quite the catch amongst the bachelors of the ton. Amy swore that some young ladies would audibly gasp whenever he walked into the room as if he was the finest male specimen crafted by the gods.

Just thinking about the way he looked at her already made her blush, and Amy was never the type to be so affected by a man.

Not after everything that happened.

She sighed as she stared up at the canopy. Back then, she should have been heartbroken, devastated even.

But she still could not find it in her to shed a single tear—not for her mother, who had passed, or even for herself, who must endure living.

Maybe something is truly wrong with me, she thought glumly. Maybe my heart is truly as cold as a frozen lake in winter...and it would be a fool who dares to say otherwise.

Was the Duke a fool, then, for giving her the time of day?

Or was he smarter than she gave him credit for?

Whatever it was that His Grace, the Duke of Leonbridge, was planning, she would have no part in it. She would much rather live out the rest of her life in relative peace as a spinster, away from the meddling gossips of the ton.

She would have her own house in the country and live simply. Amy already knew that she would not require much to survive.

She might even adopt a new hobby, learn some craft or other, maybe even get a pet.

A cat would be nice, she mused, smiling a little. A nice ginger tabby that I could spoil endlessly, and it would keep my home free of those pesky rodents...

But her dreams of spinsterhood would all come to naught if she allowed the darkly handsome Duke of Leonbridge to ruin her plans.

No, she must resist him—and all the many charms at his disposal—so she could finally live her life as a truly free woman.

She had no desire to live as most women of the ton do—little more than birds trapped in bejeweled cages.

As for tomorrow, she must double her efforts to dissuade the Duke from the insanity of courting her.

It really could not be that hard, could it?