A Duke by Any Other Name by Grace Burrowes Page 0,86
here, leaving a soft, golden dawn. A lone robin sang from the tree line, while a cowbell tinkled in the distance. Spring had arrived, which only made the moment of parting more difficult.
“You are a decent fellow,” Althea said, peering down at him and slipping her arms around his neck. “Beyond decent.”
All the unease inside Nathaniel went still while he savored one more moment of what he needed and wanted. He held Althea close, recalling tenderness, warmth, humor, all the good, dear wonders they’d shared so briefly.
He brushed a kiss to her cheek, only that.
“Farewell, Lord Nathaniel Rothmere.” Althea had recalled his wish, and she was smiling at him as she held him loosely. “Be as happy as you can and know that I will remember you with joy.”
He must be the gentleman, must be the one to step back, but Althea was too quick for him. She scampered down the steps on the far side of the wall and marched off across her own pasture without looking back.
Such strength she had. Such decency and determination. “Farewell, Althea,” he said to her retreating form. “Farewell, my love.”
Chapter Fourteen
Lady Phoebe awoke as the coach rattled over the rise that led down to the village. Yesterday had been long, dealing with the endless preparations necessary before making the trek into York with Sybil.
The effort had been worth the bother. Ellenbrook had paid Sybil just the right amount of attention, enough that the other guests at the ball had noticed, not enough to cause talk. Sybil had been resplendent in a gown fashioned for her in London last year, one that still passed for à la mode here in the north.
Best of all, Lady Althea had not been among the attendees.
The dancing had gone on until three in the morning, the final buffet had been lavish, and Phoebe could count the excursion a victory. Ellenbrook was making the journey on horseback, which meant Phoebe and Sybil had the coach to themselves.
“You’re awake,” Sybil said, from the opposite bench. “How you can sleep in a moving coach is beyond me.”
“You took a nap yesterday afternoon, while I did not. Did you enjoy the ball, Sybil?”
The required answer was yes. Yes, Aunt. I had a wonderful time, thanks to you. Sybil was at a dangerous age, when youthful confidence had yet to be tempered by bitter experience. She did not see the near disaster of her mother’s indiscretion for the liability it was because the man Sybil called Father loved her and doted on her.
Less doting and larger settlements would have served the girl better.
“I enjoyed standing up with Ellenbrook,” she said. “He’s a fine dancer. Mr. Petersham is droll and has a merry smile. Why do you suppose Lord Stephen and Lady Althea were not among the guests? Lady Stebbins considers herself quite the hostess, and she’s sure to have sent them an invitation.”
“Mr. Petersham hasn’t a feather to fly with. As for Lady Althea and her brother, nobody knew her brother was due to pay a visit, and Lady Althea is simply not good ton.”
Sybil left off admiring the countryside. “She is the sister of a duke. How can Lady Stebbins be good ton if she’s snubbing a ducal family with its seat right here in Yorkshire?”
“Don’t be impertinent. Just because I have been willing to overlook Lady Althea’s reputation doesn’t mean she can expect that kindness from everybody else.”
The morning sun had broken the horizon, revealing the same dreary cows, sheep, and rolling green fields it had been revealing for every day of Phoebe’s life. She was abruptly impatient with Sybil, and with the conversation.
“Recall what I told the vicar, Sybil. A young woman dwelling without the protection of her family must have a particular care for her standing. Raising ill-behaved swine, marching about unescorted, wearing bright colors, and thwarting the rules of decorum are not the done thing. I hope Vicar can have a quiet word with her ladyship, or with Lord Stephen, and see her returned to her family’s loving care.”
Far, far away from Yorkshire.
“Aunt, you tried your hardest to spill tea on Lady Althea so she’d have to leave your dinner party early, and you’re criticizing her for bad behavior? She never leaves her property unescorted that I know of, she has a companion in residence, she’s biding at a family estate, and she looks good in bright colors. What do you have against her?”
Phoebe itched to slap Sybil’s face, but that would only inspire more of this lamentable