A Duke for Lady Ellen

Chapter 6

The kitchen maid brought in her tea and toast without knocking, and surprisingly, her sister Sophie followed right in after her and jumped on the bed, earning a grunt from Ellen. Sophie may only have slept three hours, but looked as fresh as a rose, whereas Ellen was dragging. She need not consult the mirror to know her hair whipped over her head in a bird's nest. Too bad she could not have slept in later. What a shame her internal clock woke her up right at seven on the nose.

"Oh, Ellie, I'm in love-love-love!" She sighed dramatically, then turned on her side to regard her sister, bracing her head on her hand. "Isn't it wonderful?"

Ellen yawned before she could help herself. "Indeed! And with whom are we in love?"

"Well," her sister drawled, "all of them really. Aren't balls divine? You get to meet the most handsome of men..." She began to hum a waltz from last night, her key perfect and lovely.

A frown of worry creased Ellen's brow. "Is there someone...specific... you're in love with?"

"Danbury, of course," she laughed, making Ellen sigh. Of course Sophie was in love with the Duke. Counting off her fingers, Sophie continued, "But also Lord Fredrick, Lord Amberleigh, Lord Monmouth, Lord Pembrook, and frankly, Lord Stacey. He really is a marvelous dancer and an even better conversationalist. I could talk with him for hours."

"Lord Stacey is bald as an American eagle," Ellen said.

"Oh, he's not. He's charming. And besides, if I need to see how I look, I can simply check my reflection on his pate. It's quite handy."

Both sisters laughed heartily, though Ellen knew it was wrong to laugh at Stacey's expense.

"So what you're saying is, dear sister, is that you're in love with love."

"Mmm...possibly, though, the Duke is divine, is he not? So genial and generous and he never says a cross word about anyone."

"Ha!" Ellen scoffed. "Danbury has nothing but unkindnesses to level against the Earl of Hambidge. I quite wanted to smack his cheek during our waltz."

A speculative gleam entered Sophie's eyes. "That doesn't sound like the Duke."

"I assure you, Sophie, he has spoken not one genial or generous word for Hambidge."

Sophie lay on her back and stared into the canopy. "If the Duke doesn't like Hambidge, there must be something objectionable about him."

"Certainly not. The Earl is above reproach."

"Have you...set your cap for him, then?" Sophie asked a little too casually. "Mother will be so pleased."

"The Earl and I are simply...friends. And I don't wish for anyone to disparage him."

"Of course not," Sophie said. "And it was very naughty of Danbury to speak ill."

She and Sophie spent the better part of an hour reviewing the ball and discussing the assets and deficiencies of the men Sophie was in love with. To hear her sing the Duke's praises pained Ellen a bit, because she could just imagine the Duke reciprocating Sophie's feelings, but truthfully she seemed no more partial to Danbury than she did the other men. And if anything, her sister appeared inordinately fond of Stacey, but he did have that affect on women. In the end, Ellen was no more certain of Sophie's intentions than before. She rather thought it a good thing.

The tea was cold by the time her sister went down for breakfast, but Ellen drank it anyway, as she began to copy out her manuscript for the Earl. Would he like The Stallion and the Sky as a whole? What would he make of the more personal poems, the ones that expressed her dreams and hopes for the future? The ones that spoke of the joys of country life and the dearness of home and family? Would he write them off as the jejune ramblings of an immature girl of one-and-twenty? As she dipped her quill into the ink, and set the nib to paper, she hoped he would find pleasure in the reading. At least they would have more to discuss on future visits, once she finished copying all fifty poems, minus the five she'd given him already.