Page 10 of My Demanding Duke

Bartie’s face fell a little at such a dull platitude, though he quickly regained his composure.

“Indeed she will,” he agreed, lifting his glass in another toast, “May your marriage be long and fruitful, Falconbridge.”

Hugh bowed his head in acknowledgment of his good wishes, but inside his stomach twisted a little. There was still no sign of Miss Mosley and he was beginning to wonder if the marriage would take place at all…

She’s just late, Hugh assured himself, as he tried to bat away visions of Miss Mosley escaping London by stagecoach, desperate to be free of him.

“Hark,” Bertie cried nervously, drawing Hugh from his reverie, “Is that your mother making her way toward us?”

Hugh followed Bertie’s gaze and was greeted with the sight of his rather formidable mother elbowing her way through the throng of glittering guests. Her brow was drawn into a terrific frown and the plumage of her turban wobbled ominously.

“I’ve just recalled that I promised the next dance to a lovely filly,” Bertie stammered, as the Dowager Duchess drew close, “Do pass on my regards to your mother.”

Unashamed of his cowardice, Bertie turned on his slipper and fled, leaving Hugh to face his mother alone.

“Mama,” he inclined his head in greeting.

Edwina, Dowager Duchess of Falconbridge, offered her son a scowl as dark and imperious as his own.

“Ten years,” she began, not bothering with the niceties of greeting, “For ten years I have been hounding you to find a bride, then when you finally do, I had to suffer the indignity of hearing the news second-hand from Lady Castlereagh.”

“Which upsets you more?” Hugh queried, mischievously, “That I am engaged, or that you were not the first to hear the gossip?”

“The latter,” his mother conceded, with a smile, “I don’t like to be taken by surprise, dear. Though I should not have expected anything less of you; you are something of a mystery, even to me.”

Mother and son exchanged a glance, heavy with a decade’s worth of pain. Hugh shifted uncomfortably, afraid that she might say something which would prod at the wound he guarded deep within.

“Well, where is she?”

His mother broke the silence, casting her dark eyes around the room in search of Miss Mosley. “I can’t say I approve of the girl’s father, but I was acquainted with her mother, when she had her season. A lovely young lady, from good stock, who had the misfortune to marry a man unworthy of her hand.”

That same man was also not worthy of his daughter, Hugh thought, dourly. “Lady Limehouse is escorting Miss Mosley this evening, she will arrive with the viscountess.”

“I would have insisted on an introduction,” came his mother’s dry reply, “But Lady Limehouse arrived a few minutes ago, quite alone.”

Hugh clenched his jaw, unwilling to show just how irked he was by the news that he had been hoodwinked. Against his own desire, he had agreed a deal with Miss Mosley for a long engagement. Now she had reneged on their terms at the first test.

“Excuse me, mother,” Hugh said, with a stiff bow, “I’m afraid there’s somewhere I need to be.”

Hugh offered his mother - who looked more than a little amused at the turn of circumstances - a brief nod, before delving into the crowd in search of Lady Limehouse. He found the viscountess surrounded by a circle of similarly dressed and titled ladies, who all looked at him with naked curiosity as he approached.

A flicker of nervousness crossed Lady Limehouse’s face, as she caught sight of Hugh, but she quickly regained her composure.

“My lady.” Hugh offered the viscountess a curt bow, and the other ladies’ present a courteous nod, “Might I borrow you for a moment?”

“Most certainly, your Grace,” Lady Limehouse said, as she offered him her arm.

“If this concerns our mutual friend,” Lady Limehouse began, once they were out of earshot of her companions, “I can assure you that the poor girl is suffering from a migraine. She meant you no slight and asked me to pass on her sincere regret for her absence.”

“Miss Mosley is not my friend,” Hugh replied, tightly, “She is my fiancée. Her absence is conspicuous, given the gossip circulating about the nature of our union.”

“And who’s fault is that?” the viscountess whispered sharply in return.

Hugh bit his lip, to hold back the sharp retort which danced on the tip of his tongue. His actions in securing Miss Mosley’s hand might have been unconventional, but in his opinion, they were just. And, his opinion was all that mattered; he would not waste his breath trying to convince Lady Limehouse to see matters from his point of view.

“Miss Mosley and I had an agreement; a long engagement in order to quash any untoward gossip,” Hugh said, his voice slow and calm, but his mind racing, “Given that she has now reneged on her word, I see no reason to delay our marriage. We will wed tomorrow, at noon. I’ll send someone to collect you in the morning, so that you might be there to act as witness to our joyous union.”

Without waiting for a reply, Hugh offered the startled viscountess a brief bow, then made his exit.

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