In Need of a Duke (The Heart of a Duke 0.5)(9)

With the unseasonable chill to the early summer air, all those lords and ladies seeking to steal some forbidden moments must have sought refuge indoors, for which Aldora was immensely grateful. She folded her arms and attempted to rub warmth back into her skin.

Valera didn’t waste any time. “Who is he?”

“Who is who?” Aldora opted to feign ignorance. At her friend’s down-turned lips, she sighed. “The Marquess of St. James.”

Valera’s brows drew together. “St. James?”

Aldora bristled at the shocked disapproval in Valera’s question. “He would make a perfectly suitable husband.”

Valera tapped the toe of her slipper in a soft-staccato rhythm against the stone floor, the tone grating to Aldora’s ears. “Yes but he’s….”

“He’s what?”

“Foppish.”

Aldora remembered the midnight black morning coat and expertly tailored matching black riding breeches. Fops wore vibrant colors and peacock feathers. “He is not.” She held her breath hoping Valera’s vehement denial of the marquess’s suitability would stop there.

“A terrible scandal follows his younger brother.”

“That is hardly his fault, Valera. It would be wrong to judge a man for the sins of his family.” She wouldn’t mention the fact that St. James’s slightly tarnished family lines made him more than acceptable for her financially ruined one.

Valera made a non-committal sound. “And he has a rather poor view of the role of women.”

Aldora frowned, her stomach roiling unpleasantly at this serious offense. “On what grounds did you make such a determination?”

“I had the misfortune of sitting beside him at Lord and Lady Savage’s dinner. He expressed great disapproval in any academic ventures, insisting that a lady mustn’t exert her efforts beyond her needlepoint and pianoforte skills.” She held Aldora’s gaze, reminding her with pointed precision that Aldora was far less than skilled when it came to embroidering or singing or playing.

Aldora’s heart fell as disappointment drowned out her hope for a match with St. James. “I can’t believe it,” she murmured to herself. Although it should come as no surprise; the nobility did not prevaricate when it came to expectations for what constituted ladylike behavior. Yet, she’d hoped that the man she’d set her sights on would be…well…different.

Valera’s brow furrowed. “But you don’t even know….” Her foot froze mid-motion, ending the incessant tapping. “You have met him. Alone?” she hissed.

That was the sole problem in having a friend who knew you better than you knew yourself. Secrets were absolutely forbidden.

“When?”

“It was a chance meeting,” Aldora said. A chance meeting that she’d taken care to orchestrate, but now that her friend was here and aware, Aldora could enlist her help.

Valera frowned. “Nothing improper occurred, did it?”

“What is this about improper?” a low-voice drawled.

The young women spun around.

Lord Ravenswood stood off to the side, his hip propped against a tall Doric column, broad arms folded at his chest.

At the unexpected intrusion, Valera’s eyes lit up and she smiled widely. A charged look passed between the couple, as though everything, including Aldora, had faded away and all that remained was the two of them.

Deep inside, a yearning filled Aldora. To have someone look at her the way Lord Ravenswood studied Valera. Not for the first time, Aldora ached to secure a match based on mutual respect and genuine love—and not necessity, which was what had driven her in her pursuit of the marquess.

Valera walked over to her husband and swatted him on the arm. “Were you following us?”

Oh, it hadn’t been ‘us’ he’d been following.

He offered a delayed bow. “Lady Aldora.”

She dipped a curtsy. “My lord.”

“So who is—?”

Valera took her husband by the arm, and steered him toward the house. “I believe you owed me the next set, dear husband.”

Bless Valera.

“Why do I feel like you are trying to usher me away, dear wife?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, my love,” Valera murmured. She glanced over her shoulder and winked at Aldora.

Aldora tipped her head in appreciation.

The look in her friend’s eyes promised future questions, but for now Aldora had been spared.

Aldora should return indoors. She took a step forward. Then another.

And froze. The lilting strain of the orchestra’s waltz danced around the night air.

Aldora drew in a deep breath. If she were wise, she’d return to the hall and use every last moment at her disposal to try and make a match. In spite of the cool night, she’d rather remain outside with nothing more than her quiet company. She walked back over to the balustrade and gripped the edge of the hard stone. The full moon played off the lush gardens, casting mysterious shadows.

She ran her palm over the surface, stroking back and forth as she considered her precarious situation. Just that morning another creditor had come calling. Hardly anything remained of their previous lifestyle. All the fripperies, all the trappings that hadn’t seemed to matter were gone. The porcelain shepherdess and her flock of sheep. The collection of china dolls Aldora and her sisters had played with as young children. The chintz tea set she’d first sipped tea from. All of it had been sold off to cover Father’s many debts. At the time, all Aldora had cared about was her family’s survival. But now she found herself mourning the loss of those small tokens.