An Apple Pie for a Duke Page 4

  Oh, it was good to be him; people feared him, left him alone, admired him from a distance but were too cowed to---

  “Why Surrey, my boy,” a baritone voice intoned right next to him. “What a pleasure to see you.”

  Dominic's head snapped around. It was the Hugh Percy, formally known as His Grace the Duke of Northumberland.

  “Northumberland!” Dominic croaked.

  “Nice ball, don't you agree my boy?” The older duke smiled benevolently. “Nicest one this season.”

  “I beg your pardon, but I couldn't tell. It's my first.” There were only a few men in England who commanded Dominic's respect. Northumberland was one of them.

  “Come to find a bride, eh? It's high time.”

  Dominic felt heat rising below his neck cloth. Control yourself, Dominic!

  “No, not at all,” he said calmly. “My sister Clara will be coming out next year and I regard it as my personal duty to oversee her debut. I personally inspect the venues she might go to and the people she might frequent. I'm a strong believer in the supervision of the young.”

  Northumberland was not one to give up easily. “But there are so many lovely girls for you to pick from! Look. That brunette there. She's the daughter of an earl! Pretty and wealthy, too.”

  “A little too young, maybe?” Dominic grinned and finally felt the effect of the brandy and the champagne. That brunette Northumberland had pointed out was indeed an especially pretty girl.

  He smiled.

  Northumberland poked him in the ribs and said nothing.

  “No, seriously, Northumberland,” Dominic declared confidently. “I don't have the slightest intention of getting married.”

  Just then, another familiar voice, a female voice, came from behind. “Pardon me, Your Grace. Would Your Grace be so kind and let us pass?”

  8.

  London, same time and place

  “I have no tolerance for balls,” Flora said. “They are crowded and stuffy. How's one supposed to find a spouse in all this noise? I'd like to know my future husband's voice before I married him, wouldn't you?”

  “You are very rigorous, Flora,” Gigi disagreed. “You must make them talk while you're dancing. I've developed a catalogue of questions and I call it the Cotillion Questionnaire. It covers philosophy, botany and literature, as well as geography and Latin. It has never failed me.”

  Flora beamed at Gigi. “I believe it never failed chasing men away.”

  “Exactly!” Gigi laughed.

  “Why does one have to get married anyway?” Flora asked cynically. “I think I'd enjoy being a spinster. I could be somebody's lady companion and spend my days in Bath, reading novels and taking the waters.” She put on an exaggeratedly straight-laced face.

  Gigi twinkled at her friend in complete understanding. “Oh, what a wonderful life that would be! But now, I believe we had better go back inside. Our mothers will notice our extended absentia from the dance-floor. Mine keeps insinuating on how much she hates coming to London and how she had done it for my benefit alone. I have to keep up appearances and at least pretend to be, well, husbanding.”

  “Husbanding.” Flora wrinkled her nose in thought. “I like that word. Tally ho, let's go a-husbanding.”

  “Hurray!”

  They got up and ignored the array of young gentlemen courteously bowing to them.

  Two more men who were watching the girls twirling within blocked the entrance to the ballroom. One was of medium height and balding. The other one was--- the other one was--- THE OTHER ONE WAS--- Help!

  Lady Serena Locksley was dancing right in front of the delicious Dominic and had drawn his attention. Gigi's head was instantly on fire. Her stomach too. Needles. There are needles in my heart! I will bleed to death!

  “A little too young maybe?” The duke chortled. For an instant the two men standing in front of Gigi were silent, then Surrey said “No, seriously, Northumberland. I don't have the slightest intention of getting married.”

  His words felt like a cold shower.

  So, Dominic, you don’t want to get married, well, since I’d never marry you anyway, I couldn’t care less, you puffed up pompous--- what happened to your accent anyway? Where did the vowels come from?

  Gigi braced herself.

  She had seen and heard enough!

  How they had ogled that stupid cow Serena Locksley!

  Blah blah blah, a little young maybe, a little young maybe! Keep your big mouth shut, Dominic St. Yves, you disgusting lecher!

  Of course he was a disgusting lecher, how naïve had she been?

  He was a known rake who frequented opera singers and ballet dancers. He was the favourite subject of gossip in the kingdom's drawing rooms. Everybody suspected him to be the most wicked and corrupted libertine who spent more time in Paris than anywhere else.

  Gigi alone had believed him to be a lonely wolf, her dark and broody hero, who hid a noble heart behind a nimbus of darkness.

  Oxymoron! “Nimbus of darkness”. I'll have to remember this one--- wait. Hold on! How can I think of oxymorons NOW? I must be ill! Seriously ill!

  It's all his fault.

  He infected me at that bookstore, no; he infected me years ago, when I was only a child! But not anymore, Your Grace, not anymore! I'll stand against you and your forces of hell, now and forever will I hold the flag of resistance high! Until my dying day shall I defy thee, Satan! I'm the daughter of a great commander and I'll prove myself worthy. Engarde, Your Grace! For England!

  “Pardon me, Your Grace. Would Your Grace be so kind and let us pass?”

  Not too bad. A little squeaky, but firm. That's done. What now?

  The dark eyes were on her now but Gigi was prepared.

  He stepped aside.

  He bowed.

  “Lady Eugenia.” His voice was deep and soft. It touched Gigi's core like sheer silk touches naked skin. What had happened to hissing and snarling? And his perfect eyes, they looked so tender, so soft, almost as soft and tender as those of Mr. Wimple!

  I shall not falter! I shall not fail!

  She took Flora by the hand and nodded primly, then she walked until she had reached the other end of the ballroom.

  “You know him,” Flora whispered hysterically. “Truly, you know him? Why haven't you told me?”

  “I only just met you!” Gigi tried to get her thoughts back in order.

  “It would have been the first thing you should've said to me,” Flora insisted. “It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Parker, I personally know the Duke of Surrey.”

  “But I don't! He attacked me in a bookshop, he doesn't even know who I am! He’s the most supercilious man in the world.”

  Flora stared at her. “He didn't know who you were when he said “Lady Eugennnniaaaaaaah”?” She mimicked the duke quite well, Gigi thought.

  “And he didn't know who you were when he said, “I'm the most handsome man in England, I'm the richest man in England, I'm the tallest man in England, look at me, Lady Eugennnniaaaaaaah?””

  “He didn't say that!”

  Flora shook her head in despair.

  Gigi frowned. “I'm sure he's not the tallest man in England. He's not much taller than the others.”

  “Of course not! I was only jesting,” Flora hissed.

  “He wants to shoot my cousin!”

  “We shouldn't let ourselves be hindered by trifles, dear. Or rifles, for that matter.”

  “Why did he call me Lady Eugenia? The correct address is Miss Cartwright. He's such a snooty ass.”

  “He's a beautiful ass. And he's coming.”

  “What?” Gigi gasped. She glanced over her shoulder. Dominic St. Yves was slowly advancing, making his way through the crowd.

  “What does he want from me? Oh, I'm sure it's about that wretched book.”

  “What book?”

  “My mother gave him a book for his sister and she told him I had enjoyed it. Now he'll let me know how stupid he thinks I am!”

  “Dear Gigi,” Flora
admonished. “You can't seriously think that one book could give him that idea. He'll think what all other men think. That you are the most beautiful girl in the room.”

  “It was The Birds of Cheltenham Gardens,” Gigi whimpered.

  “Ouch,” Flora grimaced. “That's another matter then. Well, good luck to you. Here comes.”

  The duke halted in front of Gigi.

  “Miss Cartwright. Would you honour me with a dance?”

  Gigi felt Flora's eyes on her. In fact, all eyes were on her, not only those of Flora. But Gigi had other problems.

  I'm poised, I'm strong. If he wants to dance, let's dance!

  “I would, Your Grace,” Gigi said.

  He took her by the arm and lighting struck her, but she had clad her heart in iron and her hands in gloves. She was safe.

  The orchestra played a waltz. Of all dances, it had to be a waltz!

  “Miss Cartwright, I wish to apologise for my behaviour at Bond Street,” the duke said in a matter-of-fact non-snarling manner. “I'd been under some pressure that day, I hadn't meant to take it out on you.”

  Somebody must've reproached him for having behaved so rudely!

  “Have you, Your Grace?” Gigi tried to sound like her mother speaking to the vicar back home in Yorkshire – aloof, yet conciliatory. “I hadn't even noticed. In fact, I'd already forgotten the incident, there were so many fascinating books in that charming little shop.”

  Good Lord, his hand's on my back! Help! I want him to abduct me and take my innocence in a storm! We shall live in the West Indies, making love in the sun, day and night--- well, in the moonlight at night, I think. There's no sun at night, is there?

  “Yes. Indeed,” the duke cleared his throat. “I'm to express my sister's gratitude. She particularly enjoyed the book your mother recommended.”

  The Birds of Cheltenham Gardens? Is his sister an imbecile?

  “How very kind of her,” Gigi smiled mildly. Quite an effort! “Send her my regards.”

  For a few twirls they said nothing.

  “Is London to your liking, Miss Cartwright?”

  Oh devastating Dominic, the way you smell is to my liking!

  “Yes, Your Grace. It's very different from home.”

  “Yorkshire is a pleasant county.”

  How does he know I'm from Yorkshire?

  “Yes, it is, Your Grace.”

  “I've only recently been there.”

  Really? Yes, I remember, the horse had been on its way to Longmore.

  “How interesting. Have you gone to Yorkshire for hunting, Sir?”

  The devastating Dominic looked down at her. One corner of his mouth went up a little as if he was about to smirk. “Yes.”

  “There are formidable hunting grounds in Yorkshire,” Gigi stated, still envisioning her mother with the vicar.

  “Indeed.”

  He did not say anything after that. She could not think of anything either. She carefully glanced up at him but he gazed into the distance.

  How can one man be this rude? Just when he started to seem at least halfway human.

  I'm glad I'm holding my own here. I shall simply gaze into the distance as well!

  I simply have to remember to be aloof and poised at all times.

  But Gigi should have remembered something else.

  Again, the duke's proximity had caused the same effect as it had in the bookshop.

  Only this time, Gigi had not noticed.

  Whilst concentrating on remaining aloof and poised, there was one thing she had not done.

  She had not breathed.

  She fainted.

  9.

  London, etc.

  I must not look at her! I can control myself until this dance is over but then I'll go. Else I'll carry her out into the garden and “compromise” her behind the rhododendrons like a rabbit.

  But why is she so distant? Doesn't she remember what she said about me in the stable? She's so poised and cool while I'm burning with love for her. Can't she see how much I want her? If I drew her just a little bit closer she could actually feel how much... if I simply pressed my hips against her... but then she might really---

  She fainted.

  Dominic felt her sinking down. Instinctively, he lifted her up.

  A shocked murmur went through the crowd.

  “That dreadful man!” A women shrieked.

  “Smelling salts!” Somebody shouted. “Bring us some smelling salts!”

  Dominic gazed at the beautiful, lifeless creature in his arms. He wanted to say something but he could not.

  “His grace will have to carry her outside for fresh air,” another voice consulted.

  “That dreadful man!” Lady Tarly sang like a soprano.

  “Yes, take her outside, but the front door is easier to access from here,” a third person insisted. It was the young woman Gigi had been sitting with earlier.

  “My little dove!” That was Lady Cartwright who had shoved aside the onlookers to get to her daughter. Her face was panic-stricken.

  “We must slap her!” Serena Locksley suggested, eaten up by envy because Surrey had not asked her to dance.

  “On you go, Your Grace,” Gigi's friend commanded rigorously and Dominic started to walk.

  Once they were outside, Lady Cartwright did slap her daughter.

  “She's breathing,” Dominic managed to say. His own voice sounded very distant to him. Was this a dream? If it was, it was not a pleasant one. He wanted to do nothing but flee! Leave these chattering women and hide in his lair.

  “She's never fainted before,” her mother wailed. “I fear she may be seriously ill! She had a similar fit before in a bookshop when---”

  “That dreadful man!” A footman led Lady Tarly out of the house.

  “I'm sure she'll come to in a few moments, my lady,” Gigi's friend reassured Lady Cartwright. “It was extremely hot in there and all the twirling must have made her dizzy. She was perfectly fine before ---”

  “That dreadful man!” Lady Tarly yelled.

  “Thank you, Miss Parker,” Lady Cartwright said, suddenly more serene. “You've been a great help. Please ask a steward to fetch our carriage. We shall leave right away.”

  Dominic had no idea how her change of humour had come about, but she was almost mirthful!

  Miss Parker hesitated. “She ought to lie down. I suppose a barouche is too small for that purpose. Perhaps His Grace could take you home in his carriage.”

  “That dreadful man?”

  “Of course, Lady Cartwright,” Dominic heard himself say. “My carriage is at your disposal.”

  “Very good, Your Grace, then we shall take the carriage and Lady Tarly can take the barouche. By the way, what happened to your… never mind.”

  “What happened to my--- what?” Dominic asked but nobody listened to him.

  “I can't go on my own!”

  “Agatha!” Lady Cartwright shouted. “My daughter is unconscious! She can't go on her own.”

  “I could go with Lady Tarly,” Miss Parker said. Dominic thought her a martyr.

  Eugenia moaned, nestled her head against Dominic's chest and smiled.

  The ladies looked bewildered.

  “Is she sleeping?” Miss Parker whispered.

  “I think so. How peculiar,” Lady Cartwright whispered in return.

  “That dreadful man!” Lady Tarly whimpered.

  “Miss Parker, you must go back inside and find your mother. She'll be looking for you. We can proceed from here without you. But do call on us tomorrow. Gigi would be very glad!” There was something strange in Lady Cartwright's eyes as she said it, but Dominic was too distracted by the feeling of Gigi's head against his chest to pinpoint it.

  Miss Parker left.

  Lady Cartwright spoke. “My dear Surrey. I can't allow Lady Tarly to return home on her own. She has a sickness of the nerves. I have to rely on you to safely return my little dove to Halfmoon Street. As an old friend of your mother's, I trust you and leave her in your
care without a chaperone.”

  The coachmen had driven up both vehicles, the carriage and the barouche.

  Lady Cartwright helped Lady Tarly in and off they went.

  Dominic was struck dumb.

  How can she just leave me standing here with her sick child in my arms? What a strange behaviour for a mother. What am I to do? I can't take her home on my own, without a chaperone? She'll be utterly compromised. But then, it is true; Lady Cartwright's an old friend of the family. I won't harm the little dove, after all, she's unconscious! What could possibly happen?

  He lifted Gigi into the carriage and carefully positioned her on the bench.

  Thank God, I'm a man of luxurious tastes. It's almost as comfortable as a bed. Velvet and cushions and all!

  He closed the door and knocked against the rear wall as a signal for the carriage to depart.

  It was dark inside.

  Dominic's eyes were fixed on Eugenia. They wandered from her face to her neck, to her well-rounded bosom, her small waist.

  He could see the long, slim legs through the fine cloth of her gown.

  His breathing was heavy.

  He could take her now, he mused. Nobody could stop him.

  But he would not, of course. He was a gentlemen. He was a man of his word. He was Surrey!

  As he looked at her face again, he froze.

  Her eyes were open.

  10.

  A luxurious carriage, late at night

  I'm dreaming. Oh, I love these dreams. What a wonderfully soft bench this is...

  Dominic is looking at me with burning eyes, just like he always does.

  But why doesn't he touch me? Why doesn't he tell me how much he loves and desires me? Maybe he's simply admiring my beauty. Yes, that must be it.

  “Do you like what you see?” She smiled at him.

  Why doesn't he say anything? Usually he'd say, “you are so beautiful, it's hurting my eyes.”

  But if he doesn't want to talk, fine with me. We don't have to talk.

  She sat up to face him. Outside the lights were flickering by. It all seemed wonderfully real.