Page 3 of A Duke in Autumn

The more time that Eugenia spent with Lady Annet, the more Lady Annet reminded her of her sister, Isabelle.

She was full of energy, and regarded the rules of propriety as rather stifling – she would, given the chance, seek whatever adventures she could. As had just been demonstrated by her view of picnics. Eugenia swallowed before responding.

“I… I must confess that I have never thought of it quite that way…”

Lady Annet laughed – a light happy sound, with nothing nasty about it.

“Oh Eugenia, you are so very good, I can tell. I cannot imagine how you do it – I am forever thinking of the most improper things – and sometimes doing improper things, much to my mother’s horror.”

Eugenia smiled at her words, but, inside, she felt the familiar twist of sadness. Just as it was with Isabelle, Eugenia envied Annet – envied that comfort with taking risks, with stepping outside the boundaries of what was ‘right’ and expected.

“I suppose that I am – I have always tried to be good – perhaps because my sister was always so talented at being naughty. I am not sure that I know how not to be good!”

Annet regarded her for a moment, the same way that Oakthorpe had, as if she was a curiosity, then nodded.

“Perhaps we should help each other – you can teach me how to be good, and I can teach you the fun that is to be had being naughty. For if we must marry, and then be well behaved and socially acceptable wives, why should we not taste just a little bit of naughtiness first?”

Eugenia’s first thought was to protest that naughtiness could not be a sensible choice. But she stifled her words.

The Duke’s comment echoed in her mind, about something or someone leading her astray. She tried to push the memory aside, but it rankled that he thought she needed such a thing. But… she was curious – what would it be like to not always be good?

“Perhaps. I am willing to try your suggestion. If you try to lead me into naughtiness, I will tell you why we shouldn’t, and what a respectable young lady should do instead.”

“How delightful! This will be fun!” Eugenia was not so sure, but she would at least, she suspected, learn some interesting things in the process. Lady Annet went on, full of enthusiasm. “So, let us start with this picnic. There will be gentlemen there – we must see if we can manage some time alone with them – if any of them are tolerable, that is. Perhaps a walk. At the very least, we will have a chance to sit close to our chosen gentlemen, and perhaps have our hands brush when reaching for food. I doubt that we will be able to achieve a situation where a stolen kiss might be possible – not at a picnic. But one can hope.”

“A… a kiss? Is not that imagining a step rather too far? For I must tell you, that is most definitely not something that a well-behaved young lady would do.”

“I know – that’s what makes the idea so delicious, isn’t it?”

Eugenia felt the oddest little shiver go through her, and, unbidden, an image of the Duke of Oakthorpe rose in her mind – those mischievous eyes, and those lips…. she pushed the image away firmly. The man was annoying – why would she think of him and kissing in the same moment?

“P… perhaps.”

Annet laughed at the look on Eugenia’s face.

“So perhaps you should simply start with sitting close to a man tomorrow, and ‘accidentally’ letting your ankles be revealed to him as you lower yourself to the picnic blanket. That is not so terribly far from being good, is it?”

“It is quite a long way from being good! But… perhaps I will try it, if there is an interesting enough man present. Seeing a man’s reaction to such a thing would be… instructive… I think.”

Annet laughed again, and passed her another biscuit, shaking her head a little.

“Whatever we do, we will make sure that we enjoy ourselves.”

Eugenia politely agreed, but inside, she was waging a battle between her life-long habits and the spark of defiance which had somehow been lit by the Duke of Oakthorpe’s words in the Pump Rooms. And to her surprise, that defiant wish to be less than good was winning.

~~~~~

“So, Oakthorpe, are you going to choose a wife while you’re here in Bath? There are enough acceptable young women about this year, even now that the summer has passed.”

Lady Bellinghaugh, direct as always, fixed Morris with her stern gaze, and waited for his answer. But the twinkle in her eye was a good match for the one often seen in his. Morris sighed, loudly and dramatically.

“Have you been corresponding with my mother?”

“Of course I have. As soon as you declared your intention to come to visit me, she wrote me a long letter, complaining of the fact that you are still unwed. And demanding that I nag you about it. So, I’ve now done my duty to her – consider yourself nagged. If, while you are here, you do find some young chit that you actually like, I’ll be delighted, but I’m not going to shove them at you. You’re old enough to find your own candidate for wife. And besides, though I’ve never said as much to your mother, I am a staunch believer in marrying for love, if you possibly can. It makes living with the person so much easier if you actually care for them.”

Morris grinned at her, and delivered a flourishing seated bow.

“As always, Aunt, you demonstrate your wisdom. By sensibly choosing to not witter on about marriage at me every day, you have saved yourself from being the target of my sulks. I sulk rather well, when I put my mind to it, if I do say so myself.”