obvious that
there is something between you and the Duke of Clayborough."
"Mother—you are
wrong!" Nicole started to rise, but Jane restrained her.
"Then I am glad,
for he is engaged, and soon he will wed his betrothed. He will never break it
off, Nicole," Jane said gently.
Nicole knew that, yet
hearing the words somehow hurt. "There is nothing between us," Nicole
said stiffly. "I find him despicable, if you must know the truth. He is an
arrogant and pompous ass."
Jane was visibly
shocked.
Suddenly Nicole stared
at her mother. "Mother, are you going back to London today?"
"Yes, this
afternoon. I do not feel right leaving Regina there, even with Lady Henderson.
After all, I should be sharing her season with her."
Nicole wet her lips.
"I am going to go with you. I will pack now!"
Jane blinked. "But
you never go to town. You hate London."
"I have
changed," Nicole announced, standing. "I am bored with life here, I
need to get out, meet people. Don't you agree?"
"It's been my and
your father's deepest wish," Jane declared, surprised. "It isn't
healthy to stay secluded in the country to the extent that you do."
"I'll be ready in
no time," Nicole declared, flashing a smile and running from the room.
Jane watched her go,
smiling as well. This was what her daughter needed, to get out again among the
set, where she could still meet an eligible man, where she could still find
love. And the fact that the Duke of Clayborough was here at Chapman Hall made
it all the better that Nicole should join her and Regina in London. Still
smiling, Jane reached for her muffin, her appetite restored.
The Duke arrived in
London that afternoon and went directly to his residence at No. 1 Cavendish
Square. Clayborough House was an imposing sight, taking up the entire block on
the north side of the green. It had been built in the early eighteenth century
for the first duke of Clayborough, and had since suffered a few additions. Six
stories high, the entire front facade facing the street contained a hundred
windows and three towers. The roof made the structure appear even larger,
because of the three giant gables that soared by several additional stories
into the sky. Each boasted the Clayborough coat of arms, awesomely oversized.
The mansion was cordoned off from the street by an imposing and intricately
designed stone balustrade, except for where the stone staircase, which was wide
enough to accommodate a dozen guests should they choose to enter all at once,
swept down to the street.
The Duke had sent a few
of his staff on to London the night before after dining at Dragmore, and now
Woodward greeted him at the door. The Duke motioned for him to follow, and they
paced down a black and white marble-floored hallway and turned into a library
that could accommodate half of Chapman Hall. He went to his desk, pulling one
of his cards out of his pocket, and quickly penned a personal note upon it. He
handed it to the butler. "Send this to Lady Elizabeth now."
"Will there be
anything else? A bit of tea with your bath, Your Grace?"
The Duke nodded
carelessly and hurried up the stairs.
His own suite also had marble
floors, these gold and white. Once the room had been appointed as if to house
royalty. Upon his father's demise, he had immediately removed all the
furnishings except for a few and redecorated as he chose. Francis' tastes had
been much too decorative and whimsical to suit his own, but more to the point,
the Duke did not want any reminders of his father present, having enough
memories to haunt him for a lifetime.
Now, dozens of Persian
rugs covered the floors, providing warmth at night when the Duke enjoyed going
barefoot. An old chaise and ottoman, reupholstered in a rich wine leather,
faced the hearth, with a sixteenth century Chinese footstool nearby for the
Duke to lay his papers and books on. Ever fond of Oriental antiques, Hadrian
had selected for one wall a massive black lacquer Chinese screen inlaid with
mother-of-pearl,
there is something between you and the Duke of Clayborough."
"Mother—you are
wrong!" Nicole started to rise, but Jane restrained her.
"Then I am glad,
for he is engaged, and soon he will wed his betrothed. He will never break it
off, Nicole," Jane said gently.
Nicole knew that, yet
hearing the words somehow hurt. "There is nothing between us," Nicole
said stiffly. "I find him despicable, if you must know the truth. He is an
arrogant and pompous ass."
Jane was visibly
shocked.
Suddenly Nicole stared
at her mother. "Mother, are you going back to London today?"
"Yes, this
afternoon. I do not feel right leaving Regina there, even with Lady Henderson.
After all, I should be sharing her season with her."
Nicole wet her lips.
"I am going to go with you. I will pack now!"
Jane blinked. "But
you never go to town. You hate London."
"I have
changed," Nicole announced, standing. "I am bored with life here, I
need to get out, meet people. Don't you agree?"
"It's been my and
your father's deepest wish," Jane declared, surprised. "It isn't
healthy to stay secluded in the country to the extent that you do."
"I'll be ready in
no time," Nicole declared, flashing a smile and running from the room.
Jane watched her go,
smiling as well. This was what her daughter needed, to get out again among the
set, where she could still meet an eligible man, where she could still find
love. And the fact that the Duke of Clayborough was here at Chapman Hall made
it all the better that Nicole should join her and Regina in London. Still
smiling, Jane reached for her muffin, her appetite restored.
The Duke arrived in
London that afternoon and went directly to his residence at No. 1 Cavendish
Square. Clayborough House was an imposing sight, taking up the entire block on
the north side of the green. It had been built in the early eighteenth century
for the first duke of Clayborough, and had since suffered a few additions. Six
stories high, the entire front facade facing the street contained a hundred
windows and three towers. The roof made the structure appear even larger,
because of the three giant gables that soared by several additional stories
into the sky. Each boasted the Clayborough coat of arms, awesomely oversized.
The mansion was cordoned off from the street by an imposing and intricately
designed stone balustrade, except for where the stone staircase, which was wide
enough to accommodate a dozen guests should they choose to enter all at once,
swept down to the street.
The Duke had sent a few
of his staff on to London the night before after dining at Dragmore, and now
Woodward greeted him at the door. The Duke motioned for him to follow, and they
paced down a black and white marble-floored hallway and turned into a library
that could accommodate half of Chapman Hall. He went to his desk, pulling one
of his cards out of his pocket, and quickly penned a personal note upon it. He
handed it to the butler. "Send this to Lady Elizabeth now."
"Will there be
anything else? A bit of tea with your bath, Your Grace?"
The Duke nodded
carelessly and hurried up the stairs.
His own suite also had marble
floors, these gold and white. Once the room had been appointed as if to house
royalty. Upon his father's demise, he had immediately removed all the
furnishings except for a few and redecorated as he chose. Francis' tastes had
been much too decorative and whimsical to suit his own, but more to the point,
the Duke did not want any reminders of his father present, having enough
memories to haunt him for a lifetime.
Now, dozens of Persian
rugs covered the floors, providing warmth at night when the Duke enjoyed going
barefoot. An old chaise and ottoman, reupholstered in a rich wine leather,
faced the hearth, with a sixteenth century Chinese footstool nearby for the
Duke to lay his papers and books on. Ever fond of Oriental antiques, Hadrian
had selected for one wall a massive black lacquer Chinese screen inlaid with
mother-of-pearl,
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