A Duke for Lady Ellen

Chapter 7

The red, velvet-trimmed seats of the Duke's box at the theatre and the heavy red privacy drapes gave an air of exclusivity to the space that Ellen appreciated. Of course, one could see into any number of boxes across from them, and everyone seemed to be especially interested to see her there. But then Ellen decided she was merely being vain again-why would anyone in Society care if she sat with Danbury? As far as she could tell, Danbury went out on the town with any number of eligible ladies, so her appearance by his side could hardly be classified as unusual. Certainly nothing could happen under the watching eye of her Papa anyway.

While they waited for the lights to go down, Ellen listened to her Papa talk about crop yields with the Duke, who chimed in with great enthusiasm. She herself liked discussions about farm life, and couldn't wait for the Season to be over so they could return to the country at Bright Vales. It may not be considered proper for a young lady-as her mother liked to remind her-but she enjoyed mucking out horse stalls and feeding the goats and pigs. It made her feel useful and strong. And she had helped out so much over the years, the stable hands no longer thought it strange. In fact they welcomed the help.

Amazed to hear about her help on the Marquess' estate, he would have liked to talk with her more about it, but was precluded from asking by the houselights going down. The audience grew quiet as the comedy began, a farce in which a married woman maintained two different households and two different husbands. Apparently, Lady Bunny Macnamara's play was quite the rage in London, but Ellen found herself nodding off. At intermission, Papa gentled her awake and then departed for the facilities. She was alone with the Duke.

"How do you like the play, Your Grace?" she asked, hoping it wasn't drool she was feeling at the edge of her lips. She patted her mouth dry with a handkerchief just in case.

"I couldn't hear it over your snoring," he said with a laugh.

"Oh!"

"I'm teasing." He looked thoughtful, adding "It's unpredictable and outrageous, but not nearly as funny to me as the rest of the audience finds it."

"Bigamy is not usually something to laugh about." Even to her ears, she sounded a little priggish. "What I mean is-I feel sad for both her husbands. They're both very ridiculous though."

He nodded, then moved in closer, only inches from her face. She moved in closer too. Ellen's breathing picked up a bit and she could see the flecks in his eyes, sparkling as amber. Was he going to kiss her? Would she let him? After all, with the houselights up, they were quite exposed. She felt her lips puckering anyway. So what if people across the theatre could see them?

"Tell me," he whispered finally, "what exactly is the attraction of cleaning horse stalls?"

Feeling foolish, she put distance between them, her back ramrod straight in her chair. So much for kissing. "It lets me build up a good sweat, and gives my mind a rest from poetry."

"Oh, that's right, I forgot about your affection for poetry. Do you know any of your poems by heart?"

"Yes I do," she said quietly.

"Well, let's hear one," he invited in that same whispery voice as before. A chill whipped through her.

Just then the Marquess returned to the box bearing three glasses of champagne. How he had managed to carry them up three flights of stairs without spilling a drop was a marvel. He handed one to his daughter and another one to the Duke. Then he plopped down in his seat and drank his own glass in two big gulps. "What were you two discussing?"