His Unlikely Duchess Read online

  ‘Yes, he does seem very nice,’ Lily said. And so unlike Aidan, so easy to talk to, so comfortable to be around. But he seemed to admire Rose herself, sweet, quiet Rose.

  ‘Being Lady James wouldn’t be quite as much fun as being a duchess, or so Violet says. Duchesses can do whatever they like. But I think you should choose whom you like best.’

  ‘We should all be free to do that, darling Rose.’ And a duchess could help free her sisters, too. Everyone would seek them out; almost all choices would be open to them. They wouldn’t be beholden to their mother with Lily there to help them. ‘Sometimes, though, we simply don’t have that freedom.’

  ‘It’s terribly unfair. Think of all we could do if only we had men’s dangling bits...’

  Lily laughed in shock as she held up her hand. ‘Rose! What a thing to say. It sounds like Violet.’

  ‘Well, she did say it first, but she’s not wrong. If we were men, we could go to college, sail the seas, be politicians or doctors or writers of important books. We could do anything, go where we like. Do you want to stay here in England?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Lily considered all she had seen of England: the old houses, the green fields, the ancient churches. ‘Maybe.’

  ‘You should write it all in your book,’ Rose said, gesturing to the velvet notebook on Lily’s lap. ‘The good and the bad parts of it all. About England and the Duke, even about Lord James.’

  ‘If you can help me,’ Lily said.

  ‘Of course.’

  They opened the book and were busily scribbling ideas when they heard Lady Heath arrive.

  ‘My dears!’ Lady Heath cried, sweeping into the library as she pulled off her embroidered rose-coloured gloves. Her pink walking suit gleamed in the grey light, simple and elegant and perfectly English. Lily wished her mother would listen to Lady Heath’s fashion advice more. ‘What on earth is the uproar I hear upstairs? Are you all packing to move to a new house without telling me?’

  ‘Mother and Lily are invited to the Duchess of Lennox’s garden party,’ Rose said. ‘And Mother is just planning what to wear.’

  Lady Heath arched her brow, but her English nature didn’t give any thoughts away. ‘The Duchess? How exciting. She used to be famous for her parties, but she has been rather quiet since her eldest son died. This is a very good sign.’ She sat down across from them and smoothed her gloves on her lap. ‘Your day in the park with the Duke must have gone well, Lily dear.’

  ‘He was...very charming,’ Lily stammered. She looked down at her notebook, trying not to blush again.

  ‘And I am sure he found you charming, too.’

  ‘I could not say,’ Lily managed to choke out. Rose peered up at her, too closely.

  Lady Heath shook her head. ‘Lennox is not like other, more typical, English gentlemen. He has had his own rather exciting career, has seen much of the world. He could never be content with a typical English girl. Perhaps you, Lily, are just what is required.’

  Her dollars required to mend English houses? Lily didn’t want to ruin the magic of her day in the park with Aidan with such thoughts, but they were always there. Those doubts. If only she could truly trust in Aidan? Know he was true? ‘I am not at all exciting.’

  ‘You do yourself too little credit, my dear,’ Lady Heath said.

  ‘Indeed she does!’ Rose declared. ‘She is so smart, and ever so pretty. And kind.’

  ‘You see how clever Rose is? She does see so much,’ Lady Heath said with a laugh. ‘She will be the next Duchess after you, I am sure. How well you will both look in the strawberry leaves of a ducal coronet! Now, tell me, what are your mother’s plans for the garden party wardrobe?’

  Lily sighed. ‘I said my lavender muslin would do very well, but she declares I must borrow her green brocade and emeralds.’

  Lady Heath clucked her tongue. ‘Oh, no, my dear, that would never do! The game has quite changed now. Everyone has seen how American you are. Now they must see how English you could be...’

  Chapter Nine

  Lily smoothed the skirt of her lavender muslin and creamy lace sleeves, which Lady Heath had persuaded her mother was the correct thing to wear to a garden party, and tried to sit still on the carriage seat. She felt so very nervous about this invitation, more than any other party she could remember. What did the Duchess’s attention mean? What would Aidan say to her when he saw her today? What would she say to him? What did she want to happen? She hadn’t heard from him since their outing to park, though he had sent a lovely bouquet of violets.

  She closed her eyes and tried to take a deep breath. Doris had drawn her corset tight that morning and the high, lacy neckline of the dress seemed to close around her. At least she was not swathed in her mother’s expensive brocade and emeralds. She would look more like the other young ladies, less likely to stand apart.

  As Lady Heath had said, more English. She would fit in, even though she was American.

  What would being ‘more English’ mean? Would Aidan like to see that in her? It had felt so different being alone with him in the rain. So easy, no questions racing around in her brain. With a crowd watching the two of them, speculating, gossiping...

  She shivered, and opened her eyes to smooth her skirt again and straighten her hat. The tip-tilted confection of white straw and satin roses was pinned firmly to the upsweep of her hair, but it felt tipsy.

  ‘Oh, Lily, do stop fidgeting,’ her mother said crossly. Though she, too, kept fussing with her own ribbon-edged sleeves and her cashmere shawl. Stella Wilkins always knew her worth in America, but she had never been to a duchess’s garden party before. ‘I’ve been at such pains all these years to raise my daughters to be graceful and poised.’

  ‘I think Lily looks very graceful,’ Rose said.

  ‘And poised,’ Violet added. ‘It’s really us you need to be worried about, Mother.’

  Since it was a daytime event and the whole family had been invited, Violet had wheedled and cajoled until Stella declared she had a headache and gave in, allowing the twins to attend the party. Lily thought they looked very charming in green and white muslin and silk, though Rose looked a bit nervous. Violet’s eyes shone with excitement and of course she had her camera in tow.

  ‘Your turn will come soon enough, Miss Violet,’ Stella said with a warning shake of her gloved finger. ‘But don’t you dare ruin your sister’s chances with bad behaviour today! Our family’s whole future depends on this.’

  Lily did not want to be reminded that the burden of the Wilkins name rested on her shoulders. Luckily, the carriage slowed and came to a stop before her mother could launch into a full lecture. Lily peeked out the window at the house in front of them and saw it was quite grand, much larger than any other London house she had seen. All pale stone, looming red-brick chimneys and large windows, gazing out as if to judge the passers-by beyond its wrought-iron gate.

  She bit her shaking lip and reminded herself, grace and poise. This was just a large house, no different from her parents’ dwelling in New York.

  A footman in dark green livery opened the carriage door and helped her out on to the pavement. A blue carpet was laid from the door for guests to walk on and she could hear the echo of laughter from somewhere just out of sight. She glimpsed a stern-looking butler waiting at the black-painted front doors.

  The twins took Lily’s arms, linking one of them on each side, as if they sensed her hesitation. ‘It does look very pretty,’ Rose whispered.

  ‘And so grand!’ Violet said. ‘Just think, Lily—this could be just one of your houses.’

  ‘Oh, do hush,’ Lily murmured, the butterflies in her stomach fluttering even harder.

  Their mother sailed past them, up the marble steps and handed their invitation card to the butler. ‘Ah, yes, Mrs Wilkins and the Misses Wilkins,’ he said, his voice just the deep, stentorian tone a butler should have. ‘Do follow m
e. Her Grace is already in the garden.’

  They stepped into the house, cool and shadowed after the warm day, and Lily couldn’t help but notice that though the house was indeed very pretty and large, with a soaring rotunda overhead reached by a sweeping, marble-balustraded staircase, it seemed strangely unreal. Empty, echoing, still. As if it simply waited.

  ‘No wonder this has to be an afternoon party,’ Stella whispered, sounding more her confident self now as she looked around the empty, black-and-white-tiled hall, the quiet sitting rooms beyond. ‘How could you have a dinner party or dancing in such a place? Not a chair or painting to be seen!’

  The butler led them through open glass doors at the end of a corridor and onto a pale stone terrace. Unlike the inside of the house, the garden was a riot of colour, flowerbeds overflowing with red, pink, yellow and white, with little iron tables dotted on the grass and a croquet game in progress. Ladies in gowns coloured to rival the flowers sat on the dainty chairs or strolled the white gravel pathways, their parasols bobbing in the breeze.

  Lily studied the groups gathered on the terrace and the lawn, but she didn’t see Aidan anywhere. She didn’t know if she was relieved or quite disappointed.

  ‘Mrs Wilkins! And your charming daughters, yes? I have heard so much about them.’ A lady came towards them with an outstretched, lace-gloved hand and a smile, and Lily knew it had to be the Duchess. She was tall and slim in a gown of cherry-coloured striped silk and a large white hat, her hair still golden in the sunlight, her eyes as green as Aidan’s. ‘Welcome, welcome! Would you care for some tea? Or champagne? Or perhaps your younger daughters would like to join the croquet with my nieces?’

  ‘Oh, yes, Mother, please!’ Violet begged and Stella nodded. The twins let go of Lily and abandoned her to her fate, joining the crowd of laughing young ladies on the croquet lawn.

  Lily so wished she could join them, but instead she was trapped where she was. She curtsied to the Duchess, and tried to smile. Grace and poise.

  ‘And you are Lily Wilkins, of course,’ the Duchess said, studying Lily closely with those vividly green eyes. Lily realised that even though they were the same colour as Aidan’s, they were like winter ice, where his were like a summer’s day. ‘How well your name suits you, my dear. You are quite as pretty as a flower. Will you sit with me for something to drink? I do long to hear all about American life. My fiancé, Lord Shelton, says we shall travel there one day!’

  ‘Thank you, Duchess,’ Lily said and exchanged a glance with her mother. Stella gave a little nod and she and her mother sat down with the Duchess at one of the little iron tables at the edge of the terrace, just under the shade of a blue awning. It was laid with a silver tea service, a tiered tray of enticing, glistening raspberry tarts and tiny salmon sandwiches that all looked quite untouched, like a painted still-life. The Duchess was all lightness as she poured tea and chatted with Stella about Newport, its yachts and dances, but Lily had the distinct sense they were being very carefully studied.

  ‘How different you must find our little city,’ the Duchess said with an airy laugh. ‘So quiet and slow! I should so love to see your New York, it sounds terribly exciting. And rather naughty, I dare say.’

  ‘New York and London are not dissimilar at a certain level of society, Duchess,’ Stella said, a note of coolness creeping into her Southern vowels. Lily knew that tone well; it meant be cautious. She stuffed a tart in her mouth. ‘But I would be most happy to host you at any time, in New York or Newport, so you could see for yourself.’

  ‘How kind you are, Mrs Wilkins,’ the Duchess said. ‘I am sure I will have the chance to travel soon, once I see my dear son settled and he does not need my assistance any longer. New places would be good for my health, as well, or so my doctor says.’

  ‘I do hope you are not unwell, Duchess,’ Lily said and the Duchess gave her a gentle smile.

  ‘You dear girl, such concern for others! Just a bit of dizziness now and then, I fear. The damp of London, perhaps.’

  Lily thought she had never seen anyone look quite as healthy as the Duchess. So golden and vibrant in the sunlight. She and her son did seem to share a certain vigour of life which Lily couldn’t help but admire, even envy. ‘I am terribly sorry to hear it.’

  ‘What a sweet girl you are, Miss Wilkins. Here, do have another tart, the raspberries are grown at Roderick Castle’s own greenhouses. The Queen herself will have no others for her table at Osborne. I do hope that, before I see you in America, you will join a small house party I’m organising at Roderick. Soon it will not be my home any longer, but I do want to show it off one more time.’

  Lily exchanged an alarmed glance with her mother. Stella’s smile only faltered a bit, but Lily could see what she was thinking—this was it. The next step to a dukedom. ‘We would enjoy that, Duchess, thank you,’ Stella said, as Lily tried to resist the urge to pop another tart in her mouth. ‘We haven’t had the chance yet to see much of the English countryside.’

  ‘There won’t be shooting quite yet, of course. My late husband was famous for his shooting parties. But it is pretty there, if I do say so myself, and there is always excellent riding to be had in the neighbourhood.’ The Duchess swept another examining glance over Lily. ‘I do hear you are quite the horsewoman, Miss Wilkins.’

  Lily swallowed the last bit of raspberry hard. What had she heard about that rainy afternoon in the park? ‘I enjoy it very much.’

  ‘Wonderful! I shall send a letter with the details this week. Now, Miss Wilkins, perhaps you’d like to explore the gardens a bit? There is a cunning little maze at the back of the lawn I had put in, years ago now. Your mother and I shall have a nice little chat. And perhaps a glass of champagne, Mrs Wilkins?’

  Lily had the distinct sense she was being sent away, but she didn’t mind. She felt rather pinned like a squirming butterfly under the Duchess’s study. She took up her parasol and hurried down the stone terrace steps to the lawn, hoping she might glimpse Aidan somewhere among the crowd.

  It was indeed a lovely garden, if a bit overgrown and neglected, though the overflowing flowerbeds and tangled trees gave it a certain charm Lily enjoyed very much. She waved at the twins on the croquet lawn, nodded at Lady Heath who sipped champagne with a group near an old tennis court and followed the gravel pathways until she glimpsed the maze the Duchess had mentioned. Its tall hedge walls gave it a shadowed sense of sanctuary.

  As she turned a corner, she saw Aidan at last, standing apart from the strolling crowds on the pathways at the edge of the tall iron fence next to the maze. She raised her hand to wave to him—and then saw he was not alone.

  A lady stood with him, very near to his side, her face beneath a silk and lace hat tilted up to smile into his. She wore a gown of form-fitting white lace striped with violet ribbons, very sophisticated and daring, and her smile matched it. She swayed closer to him and laid her gloved hand on his sleeve. He didn’t move away. The two of them seemed perfectly at ease together, perfectly understanding.

  Lily’s hand dropped and she dashed behind a large marble statue of Diana with her bow drawn, hoping no one had noticed her. When she peeked again, Aidan and the lady had vanished. Had they gone into the maze...together?

  She had dared to foster tentative hopes for the Duke. But would even the smallest hopes be possible if he cared for someone else?

  ‘Lily, my dear, there you are. How quickly you dashed away! Why are you lurking here behind this poor huntress?’

  Lily turned to find Lady Heath smiling at her. ‘I—I was just...’ she stammered, and glanced towards the maze. Had she imagined Aidan and his lady standing there?

  Lady Heath nodded. ‘Just admiring Lady Rannock’s gown, I’m sure. She is said to be one of the most fashionable of the PBs.’

  Lady Rannock? The one who was said to have been engaged to Aidan’s brother, until Aidan himself kissed her? Lily felt suddenly cold and she clutched
at her parasol as if the flimsy bit of ivory and silk would hold her up. ‘PB?’

  ‘Professional Beauties, of course. Like Jennie Churchill and Lily Langtry and Patsy Cornwallis-West. Their photographs are always displayed in shop windows, you know, and they cluster around the Prince of Wales like hothouse flowers. They make up the dashing core of the Marlborough House Set—so much more fun than the Queen’s dour court. Lady Rannock’s husband is often absent for his health and she spends time with old friends of her family, like the Duchess.’ Lady Heath took Lily’s arm and firmly led her away, back towards the light and the crowds. ‘Such old friendships can be a comfort. Speaking of the Duchess, I saw her in cosy conversation with your mother. They seem quite bosom bows already.’

  Grace and poise. Lily shook off her cold misgivings about Aidan and Lady Rannock, the doubts and jealousy she had no right to have, and smiled. ‘Mother will be happy to know she’s made a new friend. I think she was a little nervous about this party.’

  Lady Heath laughed. ‘Oh, the Duchess likes to have her due, but she is kind enough at heart. She just takes her family name very seriously.’

  ‘Everyone here seems to.’ And yet, when she had been alone in the rain with Aidan, his name and title hadn’t seemed to matter at all. It had just disappeared and he was... Aidan.

  Would she ever see that man again? The man she liked so much?

  ‘Of course. What else do we have but our pride?’ Lady Heath gave her a searching glance. ‘You may come to feel the same, Lily dear. A sense of a secure place, of a useful duty to fulfil, should not be under-estimated.’

  Lily knew she was right. But what about love? What about connection, emotion, affection? She’d seen all that fade between her parents and she didn’t want such a life for herself. Duty and work were important, but couldn’t love be important, as well?

  She glanced back at the maze and wondered if Aidan had been truly in love with Lady Rannock.