Aurelia quit the rose bedroom and navigated her way through broad, flickering corridors and long enfilades of staterooms.Brantingham House was exquisite in every way, leaving no corner in shadow when a pretty piece of Dresden or a potted orchid might cheer the eye.From each silk-paneled wall, the likeness of some illustrious Charlton followed her progress through the house.There was beauty and brilliance everywhere, yet it never felt stuffy or overly formal.
In some strange, sad way, the Duke’s residence felt likehome.She’d imagined herself pouring tea in his drawing room, entertaining guests in his ballroom, and making the quiet, careful climb up the grand staircase together at the close of a satisfying day.She might’ve enjoyed her Hyde Park panorama for the rest of her life, rather than wonder where she would go from here.
Aurelia found the Duke of Brantingham in his dining room.His was a lone presence in the cavernous space.His back was turned to her as he stared into the fire, yet she would recognize him anywhere.His brawny shoulders were hugged by a tailored evening jacket.Long legs were clad in black wool trousers ending in shining black pumps.
Gold cufflinks blinked in the lamplight, beckoning her like a beacon as she entered the room.“Good evening, Your Grace,” she said, approaching him.
He turned at the sound of her voice and smiled when he saw her.“You’re kind to dress up for me,” he said cheerfully.“I know today has been exhausting for you.”
His Grace pulled out a chair for her, and she gathered her bustled skirts to take her place at the table.“Nonsense.It isn’t every day a lady dines with a duke.”
Once she was seated, he pushed the chair forward.The Duke managed her with gentle ease, as he doubtlessly handled every aspect of his life.He was a patient host yet an exacting master, for his household ran smoothly with barely any notice from those above stairs.
As if on cue, His Grace’s butler manifested from behind the screen.Mr.Dowell and his team of liveried footmen poured the wine and ladled bowls of consommé.While they worked, Aurelia admired the dining room, which was decorated inpapier peintand hung with fringed draperies.Gaslight hissed from chandeliers overhead, and the polished silver candlesticks gleamed from their place atop the table.
Aurelia reached for her wine glass and drew it to her lips.She drank heartily—but not greedily—and felt her blood warm in her veins.Soon, the room took on a pleasant, hazy quality that cast all her cares away.
“Forgive me,” she said, laughing at her own girlishness, “but I’m unaccustomed to so much wine.I’m usually careful with my expenses, and there’s rarely any need to open a bottle just for me.”
The Duke of Brantingham ensured that her water glass was filled.“I know the feeling.I haven’t entertained since…well, I haven’t entertained in some time, and I find there’s no good reason to drink alone.”He swallowed his wine and wiped his lips with a serviette.“I shall delight in your company, Miss Goldsworthy, and hope you won’t begrudge us a glass or two as friends.”
There was little she wouldn’t do for him.He’d saved her from disgrace and given her shelter when she felt lost at sea.He had her back when she’d been pushed against a wall.
Aurelia lifted her water glass.“To our friendship, then, Your Grace.”
He returned her toast in kind before asking, “How are you settling in upstairs?”
“Very well, thank you.I’ve been given a room overlooking the park.It’s comfortable, to say nothing of the charming furnishings.Your mother had wonderful taste in decorating.”
The duke smiled at the compliment.“Mama endeavored to keep everything smart.She detested musty, faded rooms and wasn’t afraid to reupholster a sofa when it looked past its best.She wasn’t overly sentimental about ‘keeping up the old ways’.I believe she would’ve shared your opinion on modern art if she’d had time to come ‘round to it.”
They both laughed at the prospect of Reubens and Gainsborough being replaced by Degas and Monet.His Grace took an overly rosy view of his mother in light of her passing, and Aurelia doubted that anyone was as sainted as the late Duchess of Brantingham, at least inhiseyes.
Whoever he married would have some very large shoes to fill.
Meanwhile, Turkey carpets muffled the footmen’s progress as they moved between the courses, serving filet of sole and chine of pork with asparagus in mousseline sauce.For dessert, they presented a wobbling mould ofgelée d’orangegarnished with citrus fruits from Brantingham’s own orangery.
The meal was delicious and the company was lovely.Firelight softened the Duke’s features, burnishing his brown hair into thick waves of bronze.His eyes watched her every move, and his smile widened as they conversed.
Aurelia spoonedgèleebetween her lips, relishing in the sweet, tart freshness on her tongue.She adored a good pudding, and thankfully, Christmastide was a time of feasting.“Tell me, Your Grace, what are your plans for the festive season?Have you any entertainments in store for your siblings?”
He ate his dessert before he answered, “My sisters, the Ladies Margery and Fanetta, will need no entertaining, as they make their own fun.I fear we shall be at their mercy.As for my brother, Lord Peregrine, he’ll be missing his friends from Eton and will doubtless try to hook up with them,” explained the duke.Clearly, he was fond of his family and looking forward to their arrival.“My aunts, uncles, and cousins will come for Christmas Eve, so I hope you don’t mind meeting a great lot of boisterous Charltons, Beausires, and MacFanes.”
“Not at all!I’m happy to meet your whole family, if they’ll have me.”The prospect of a busy Christmas gladdened her heart, as it was preferable to spending another holiday alone.
“There will be raised eyebrows, naturally, but I see no reason to feel concerned.You’re my guest, in my home, and thus your presence here has no right to be questioned.”
She admired his firm stance on the matter, but of course, a duke was not accustomed to being second-guessed.
“I appreciate your faith,” said Aurelia.She set down her spoon, utterly stuffed.She’d eaten and drunk her fill—more than her fill, really, as her corset now pinched—and waited for the Duke of Brantingham to finish his pudding.“I am afraid I’ll have to decline coffee, if you don’t mind.I want nothing more than a long night’s rest.”
“Of course.”He signaled to Dowell that they were done.“Don’t let me keep you past your bedtime, Miss Goldsworthy.”
She stood, and His Grace rose from his seat.He was a big man, yet he moved with the elegance of a dancer or perhaps a fencing master.He was quick to his feet despite two glasses of wine and a five-course meal.
“Thank you again for your company,” he said.“You have elevated what would’ve been a lonely evening to a very enjoyable one.”
That was high praise, indeed, and she grinned at his words.“I’m obliged to you for your hospitality.Your kind consideration has turned the worst day of my life into one that I shall always look back on with fondness.”
