The Ugly Duchess

  “I’m fine.”

  One had to suppose he had spent the previous evening drowning in cognac. Her mother was of the opinion that gentlemen pickled themselves in the stuff by age thirty as a matter of course. “I have an idea,” she said, returning to her point. “But it would mean that you’d have to delay your plan to marry for the immediate present.”

  “I have no such plan. I don’t wish to get married, no matter what my father says about it.” James could be maddeningly sullen when he wished. It had gotten better since he was fifteen, but not that much better. “Do you know what I hate most in the world?”

  “I’m sure you’ll say your father, but you don’t really mean it.”

  “Besides him. I hate feeling guilty.”

  “Who on earth makes you feel guilty? You’re the perfect scion of the house of Ashbrook.”

  He ran a hand through his hair again. “That’s just what everyone thinks. Sometimes I would kill to go away, where they’ve never heard of earls and noblesse oblige and all the rest of it. Where a man could be judged on who he is, rather than on his title and the rest of that tomfoolery.”

  Theo frowned at him. “I don’t see where the guilt comes in.”

  “I’ll never be good enough.” He got up and strode to the side of the room to look out the window.

  “You’re being absurd! Everyone loves you, including me, and if that doesn’t mean something, I don’t know what does. I know you better than anyone in the world, and if I say you’re good enough, then you are.”

  He turned around, and she found to her relief that he had a lopsided smile on his face. “Daisy, do you suppose you’ll try to take over the House of Parliament someday?”

  “They should be so lucky!” she retorted. “But seriously, James, will you at least listen to my plan?”

  “To conquer the world?”

  “To conquer Geoffrey, which is much more important. If you would pretend to woo me, just long enough so that I would be noticed, it would mean the world to me. You never come to balls, and if you began to escort me, then everyone would be asking why, and before we knew it, I would find myself talking to Geoffrey about something . . . and then I could charm him into overlooking my profile and he would be mine.” She sat back, triumphant. “Isn’t that a brilliant plan?”

  James’s eyes narrowed. “It has some advantages.”

  “Such as?”

  “Father would think I was wooing you and leave me alone for a bit.”

  Theo clapped. “Perfect! I’m absolutely certain that Geoffrey will talk to you. Wasn’t he head boy in your last year at Eton?”

  “Yes, and because of that I can tell you straight out that Trevelyan would make an uncomfortable husband. He’s far too clever for his own good. And he has a nasty way of making jokes about people.”

  “That’s what I like about him.”

  “Not to mention the fact that he’s ugly as sin,” James added.

  “He isn’t! He’s deliciously tall and his eyes are bronzy-brown colored. They make me think of—”

  “Do not tell me,” James said with an expression of utter revulsion. “I don’t want to know.”

  “Of morning chocolate,” Theo said, ignoring him. “Or Tib’s eyes when he was a puppy.”

  “Tib is a dog,” James said, displaying a talent for the obvious. “You think the love of your life looks like a ten-year-old obese dog?” He assumed a mockingly thoughtful attitude. “You’re right! Trevelyan does have a doggy look about him! Why didn’t I notice that?”

  Demonstrating that she had not spent seventeen years in the Duke of Ashbrook’s household for nothing, Theo threw one of her slippers straight at James’s head. It skimmed his ear, which led to an ungraceful (and rather juvenile) scene in which he chased her around the bedchamber. When he caught her, he snatched her around the waist, bent her forward, and rubbed his knuckles into her skull while she howled in protest.

  It was a scene that Theo’s bedroom, and indeed, many other chambers on various Ashbrook estates, had seen many a time.

  But even as Theo howled and kicked at his ankles, James had the sudden realization that he was holding a fragrant bundle of woman. That those were breasts against his arm. That Daisy’s rounded bottom was grinding against him and it felt . . .

  His hands flew apart without conscious volition, and she fell to the ground with an audible thud. There was true annoyance in her voice as she rose, rubbing her knee.

  “What’s the matter with you?” she scolded. “You’ve never let me fall before.”

  “We shouldn’t play such games. We’re— You’re soon to be a married woman, after all.”

  Theo narrowed her eyes.

  “And my arm is sore,” James added quickly, feeling his cheeks warm. He hated lying. And he particularly hated lying to Daisy.

  “You look fine to me,” she said, giving him a sweeping glance. “I don’t see an injury that warrants your dropping me on the floor like a teacup.”

  It wasn’t until James practically ran from the room that Theo sank onto the bed and thought about what she had seen.

  She’d seen that particular bulge in men’s breeches before. It was a shock to see it on James, though. She didn’t think of him in those terms.

  But then, all of a sudden, she did.

  Three

  Eight hours later . . .

  “Theodora, darling, are you ready?” Mrs. Saxby entered Theo’s room in a headlong trot. Theo often thought of her dear mama as being like an ostrich, all neck and long legs in constant motion.

  At the moment that neck was much in evidence, as diamonds glittered all over it.

  “Tell me how I look,” her mother demanded.

  “Like St. Paul’s at Christmas,” Theo said, giving her a kiss. “All twinkly and pretty, as if you wore a necklace of stars.”

  Her mother turned a little pink. “I am wearing quite a lot of diamonds, aren’t I? But the countess’s ball comes only once a year. One should definitely put one’s best foot forward.”

  “Or best diamonds, as the case may be,” Theo agreed.

  “Let me look at you, darling,” her mother said, drawing back. “That dress is quite pretty.”

  “I loathe pretty,” Theo said, knowing this opinion carried no weight. “ ‘Pretty’ is terrible on me, Mama.”

  “I think you look absolutely lovely,” her mother replied, honesty shining from her whole face. “Like the prettiest, sweetest girl in the whole of London.”

  “You don’t think that you might be the slightest bit blinded by your maternal sensibilities?” Theo asked, submitting to a fragrant hug.

  “Not at all. Not a bit.”

  “Last night I overheard two girls remarking on how much I look like a boy,” Theo said, probing the memory like a sore tooth. “And let’s not even entertain the idea that I’m sweet, Mama.”

  Her mother scowled. “That’s absurd. How can anyone possibly think such a thing? They’re probably blind, like poor Genevieve Heppler. Her mother will not allow her to wear her spectacles, and last night she blundered straight into me.”

  “They think it because I do look like a boy,” Theo retorted. But she didn’t expect agreement, and she didn’t get it. “At any rate,” she said, “James and I have hatched a scheme that will get me noticed by the utterly delicious Geoffrey.”

  For some reason, Mrs. Saxby did not think that young Lord Geoffrey Trevelyan was as perfect as Theo knew him to be. But, then, she hadn’t spent much of the last three weeks examining him as closely as Theo had—albeit from afar, since they’d exchanged scarcely a word.

  “James will pretend to woo me,” Theo explained, turning to the mirror and patting the ringlets that had taken her maid a good hour to concoct.

  Mrs. Saxby’s mouth fell inelegantly open. “He will what?”

  “Pretend—just pretend, obviously—to woo me. His father has determined it’s time he looked for a wife. But James doesn’t want to. You know how he hates even making an appearance at a ball,
let alone engaging in polite conversation with a lady. But if it looks as if he’s squiring me around the ballroom, not only will the duke be appeased, but everyone will take note, because James never comes to events like these. And that means they will notice me.”

  “They’ll take note all right,” her mother said.

  “Once they are actually looking at me, I can attract Geoffrey’s attention,” Theo said. The scheme sounded rather foolish once she said it aloud. A man like Lord Geoffrey Trevelyan probably didn’t care to have a horse-faced girl like herself making clever remarks at him.

  But her mother looked rather surprisingly amenable. Then a frown crossed her face and she asked, quite sharply, “Whose idea was this?”

  “Mine,” Theo admitted. “I don’t think James wanted to, but I didn’t give him the chance to refuse. Besides, it is the perfect solution to the duke’s demand that he marry. He’s far too young, don’t you think, Mama? He’s not even twenty.”

  “I don’t know about that,” her mother said. “In terms of maturity, he’s already at least a decade older than his father. And from what I hear, he’d better marry a girl with a fortune so that he can repair the estate once Ashbrook falls over in an apoplectic fit. I expect that’s why the duke is pushing him onto the market.”

  “You’re always telling me not to make cutting remarks,” Theo said. “Just listen to yourself, Mama. Do I really have to wear these pearls? I detest pearls.”

  “Young ladies wear pearls. What are you doing, darling?”

  Theo looked up from her writing desk. “I’m amending my list. Just in case I ever get to dress as I wish.”

  “Something about pearls?”

  “Yes. I’ve added two rules in the last day or so. Pearls are for swine.”

  “And debutantes,” her mother added. “What’s the other one?”

  “You won’t like this one,” Theo observed. “Etonians merit consideration.”

  “I don’t dislike it. But I think rank is a better judge of a man than education. Besides that, there are schools other than Eton, my dear.”

  “Mama! This list has nothing to do with possible husbands; it only reflects how I shall dress when I have the chance to be myself. In short, once I am married. The Etonian morning coat is altogether delicious. I don’t care a bit about the bodies inside it, unless one of them is mine.”

  “I hope I don’t live to see you dress like a schoolboy,” her mother said, shuddering visibly. “I don’t like to even imagine it.”

  “Don’t you remember the hopeless adoration James had for the captain of the cricket team after his first term? There’s a great deal of glamour to be had by looking like a schoolboy, if I can figure out how to harness it. At least it would stop girls from being so blasted sympathetic about my profile.”

  “Here is my advice,” her mother said, turning from the mirror. “Every time you detect even the faintest hint of sympathy from one of those empty-headed little chits, reach up and touch your grandmother’s pearls. You may detest them, Theodora, but they are worth as much as most girls’ dowries. There’s much to be said for unentailed personal property when it comes to attractiveness.”

  “If I get near Geoffrey, I’ll be sure to direct his attention to them. Maybe I will draw the string through my teeth, just to make sure he sees it.” She came up behind her mother and gave her a hug. “I don’t know why I couldn’t have turned out to be as pretty as you are, Mama.”

  “You are—”

  Theo interrupted her. “Hush. I have a long nose and chin and I look remarkably mannish. But I can live with it, or at least, I could if I didn’t have to wear so many white ruffles that I look like a pail of foaming milk.”

  Her mother smiled at her in the glass. “There isn’t a seventeen-year-old young lady in all London who doesn’t long to wear colors in the evening. It will happen soon enough.”

  “Once I’m Lady Geoffrey Trevelyan,” Theo said with a giggle.

  Four

  Devonshire House

  The Countess of Devonshire’s ball

  When the ducal carriage drew up before Devonshire House, Theo hopped out after her mother, followed by an obedient, if morose, James. They all paused at the doorway to the ballroom for a good moment after they’d been announced, but to Theo’s disappointment, no one seemed to notice that she was accompanied by the most elusive matrimonial catch of the year.

  Not that anyone would have thought there was a possibility of catching James until this very moment.

  “A sad crush,” Mrs. Saxby said disapprovingly, surveying the floor. “The countess obviously did not prune the invitation list. I shall retire upstairs to play a round or two of piquet.”

  This was a development that Theo had both hoped and planned for. “James will escort me home,” she said instantly. “I doubt he will agree to stay very long. We have to ease him into polite society.”

  In fact, James had already begun tugging at his neck cloth. “It’s infernally hot in here. I shall remain a half hour at the most.”

  Theo’s mother took one final look at the thronged room and departed for an upstairs sitting room, where she could play piquet with her friends all evening.

  “Back up!” Theo hissed at James, as soon as her mother was well out of sight.

  “What?”

  Theo pulled him into the entrance hall. “Now that Mama’s gone, I need a moment.” She hauled him down the corridor and turned in at the first open door she saw, which turned out to be a nicely appointed sitting room with—thankfully—a glass over the mantelpiece. She removed her pearls and dropped them in James’s pocket.

  “They will ruin the line of my coat,” he protested.

  “As if you care! Mama says they are worth more than a dowry, so please endeavor not to lose them.”

  He grimaced, but gave in. Then she gave the pink ruffle around her neckline a sharp tug and—as she had strategically loosened its stitches earlier that afternoon—it came obediently away from her gown.

  “I say, what are you doing?” James asked, rather alarmed. “You can’t wear a bodice as low as that. You haven’t anything covering your—yourself.”

  “Why can’t I? It’s not nearly as low as some women out there are wearing. And they have bosoms like ostrich eggs compared to mine. I don’t have much to show, so I might as well display what I have.”

  “You are certainly doing that,” he said, his voice betraying a certain fascination.

  Theo glanced up. “It’s just a bosom, James.”

  He frowned, stepped back, and coughed.

  “A very nice one, mind,” she said, giving him a naughty smile. “Definitely one of my better features.” With one tug, the pink ruffle was stripped off her left wrist, quickly followed by that on the right. Then she pulled the pins out of her carefully arranged curls and let her hair fall about her shoulders. Taking a band of copper-colored lace from her reticule, she wound it through her hair, pulled it back from her forehead, and secured it on top of her head with the pins so that it wouldn’t fall down. It formed a rather disheveled chignon, but the contrast between her hair and the copper lace was definitely interesting.

  “You look different,” James said, narrowing his eyes at her reflection in the glass.

  “I look better,” Theo told him, with the confidence of someone who had practiced hair-plus-lace twisting five times that afternoon. “Do you think he’ll like it?”

  James was looking at her neckline again. “Who?”

  “Geoffrey, of course!” Theo said. “Really, James, do try to keep up.” She glanced at herself in the glass. Without the horrid pink ruffles, her gown had a certain sophistication. Plus, her breasts did look delectable, if she said so herself.

  “Oh! I forgot.” She dug in her reticule and pulled out a brooch that had also belonged to her grandmother but was far more evocative than the pearls. It was heavy gold, in the shape of a rose, with a garnet pendant dangling below.

  “What are you doing with that?” James asked. “I don’
t think that sort of jewelry is meant for gowns like yours.”

  “Like what?”

  “Your dress is made out of that light stuff,” he said. “Practically transparent.”

  “The silk net is covering a plain muslin,” Theo told him. “This net is embroidered with curlicues and by far the best aspect of this wretched gown.”

  He peered a little closer. “Does your mother know you aren’t wearing a chemise?”

  “Of course I’m wearing a chemise!” Theo stated untruthfully. She fastened the piece just under her bosom, attached to the ribbon circling the gown’s high waist. “Besides, my undergarments are none of your business, James.”

  “They are when I can see the whole line of your leg,” he said, scowling. “Your mother won’t like it.”

  “Do you like it—and obviously, here I mean you as an exemplar of your sex?”

  “Must you talk like that?” he complained. But he obediently glanced at Theo’s gown. She pushed her leg forward in such a way that its shape could be glimpsed—only glimpsed, mind you—through the silk net and its underskirt.

  “It looks dashed odd,” James said bluntly. “And so does that jewel you have hanging just below your bosom. People will think that you’re deliberately trying to draw attention to that area.”

  “I am,” she said with satisfaction. The garnet added a flash of color that complemented her hair ribbon. What’s more, any gentlemen who missed her cleavage on the first glance would be encouraged to take another look.

  Not to mention the fact that James was the most handsome man at the ball and some of his allure would rub off on her. She wound her arm through his. “I’m ready to make my entrance.”

  “Your mother will kill you. Or me,” he added, even more unhappily.

  “You ogled me a moment ago.”

  “I did not!” He made a fairly good stab at offended astonishment.

  “Yes, you did,” Theo retorted. “And frankly, James, if you ogle, other men will as well. Let’s go back to the ballroom. I’m ready to find Geoffrey.”