Page 15 of Romancing Daphne

“How do you think word of anything gets around Town, Tilburn? Servants spread news more reliably thantheTimes.”

James didn’t know if it was his father’s criticism pricking at his pride or his own unease over their current endeavor that propelled him to argue with Father’s logic.“I can’t picture the Falstone staff gossiping. The duke would likely cut their tongues out if he caught them at it.”

“It is not the servants you should be concerned with,” Father said.“The duke will not take kindly to you breaking your agreement with him.”

“Youragreement.” James was not the one who had started this ordeal.

“To which you are now party.”

I am, indeed.His participation in the charade was as good as agreement to Father and His Grace’s scheme. He had rather committed himself to continue.

Father tipped back the last drop of sherry in his glass.“What do you plan to do next?”

James wasn’t at all sure. “Calling on her again in her home might be easily misinterpreted as a sign of serious intentions.”

Father didn’t look overly worried, nor did he seem eager to offer advice.

James searched his mind for some idea of his next step.“I have heardthat the family is planning to attend the theater tomorrow evening. Ithought I would look in at their box during the first intermission.”

Father nodded his approval.“Public enough to help the girl out but commonplace enough to not commit yourself.”

And early enough I can do my duty and be off before it grows too late.He meant to spend the evening with a few political chums and a handful of gentlemen he’d known at school. A night spent at his club with friends certainly sounded more pleasant than an evening watching the duke formulate new and creative ways to kill him.

* * *

James approached the Kielder theater box the next night to find something of a crowd.

At last.The handful of the others His Grace had cajoled into acting as a friend to Miss Lancaster were finally making an appearance. They had not, however, actually entered the box. Odd, that.

Mr. Hartford, a gentleman near James’s age, with whom he had a passing acquaintance, both having been at Oxford at the same time, stood atthe back of the pack.

“Is there a reason we are all gathered out here?” James asked.

Mr. Hartford fussed with his gloves. “Because going in the box no longer seems like a wise thing to do.”

“Why is that?”

“Mr.Bartramwent in first, and His Grace instructed the usher to throw him out.”

James didn’t envy Mr.Bartramthat experience. “That was likely a bit embarrassing.”

“You misunderstand. Mr.Bartramwas not to be asked to leave; he was to be thrown out. Literally thrown. Off the balcony.”

Miss Artemis Lancaster’s earlier warning rang in his ears.The duke is not being dramatic when he makes these threats.And yet James doubted even the Duke of Kielder would throw a man to his death.

“I will assume Mr.Bartramleft on his own.”

Hartford nodded, even as he tugged at his cravat. “Now nobody knowsquite what to do. If anyone dares step inside, we might find ourselves inbroken heaps on the floor below.”

“Then why not leave?”

“Mrs. Bower pointed out that coming this far andnotmaking an appearance might be seen by His Grace as a slight to Miss Lancaster, and that could be disastrous as well.”

Perhaps the necessity of enlisting James’s aid in Miss Lancaster’s Season had, in reality, been less about the young lady’s social struggles as it was about His Grace’s tendency to send any potential friends or suitors fleeing in fear for their lives.

James was not, however, in a position to make a very welcome run for the hills. He’d committed himself, and His Grace knew it.

He wove his way through the gathering of quaking individuals allthe way to the door of the box and, to the obvious astonishment of those onlookers, stepped inside.

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