Page 27 of The Truth About Love and Dukes

Irene watched him go with a hint of envy. She’d have gladly carted her own trunk upstairs if it meant she could escape the oh-so-superior scrutiny of Lady David.

“Would you care for tea?”

The other woman’s question forced Irene’s longing gaze away from the doorway and back to the slim, elegant redhead who was gesturing to the tea tray.

“No, thank you. We have had our tea already.”

“I see.” There was a pause so awkward that Irene almost winced.

Torquil broke the silence, doing so in a way that—thankfully—didn’t make Irene want to go for his throat. “Perhaps you and your sister would prefer to rest before dinner?”

“We would,” Irene said without even bothering to glance at Clara. If she was uncomfortable, she could only imagine how her reserved sister must be feeling. “A rest would be most welcome.”

Lady David seemed as relieved as she by this turn of events. “Of course,” she said and reached out at once to tug the bell pull on the wall beside her. A footman in livery appeared in the doorway with a speed Irene couldn’t help but admire.

“Ah, Edward, there you are,” Lady David greeted the footman. “Will you show Miss Deverill and her sister to their rooms, and have their maids sent up to attend them?”

“Oh, we’ve no maid,” Irene interjected with deliberate good cheer. “We’ll have to do for ourselves while we’re here, I’m afraid.”

“You haven’t brought a maid?” Lady David’s face stilled, her polite smile frozen in place. Guests without maids must be a rare thing in this house.

Irene did not help her, and it was left to Torquil to jump into the breach.

“My mother’s maid will be happy to attend you, of course,” he said.

This offer, Irene couldn’t help but note, did not please Lady David at all, a fact that almost tempted her to accept it. “We would not dream of depriving Her Grace of her own maid.”

“It would not be a deprivation, Miss Deverill, I assure you.”

“Perhaps not, but we are happy to do for ourselves.”

“Yourselves?” Lady David’s question betrayed that she was laughing at their lack of sophistication. She must have sensed that she’d shown her amusement too plainly, however, for she went on at once, “No, no. Torquil is right. Of course you must have a maid to attend you. We could never allow our guests to do for themselves.”

This gesture, one of accommodation and nothing more, was too much for Irene’s pride. “Clara and I are not only sisters, but friends. We do not mind assisting each other. Please, do not distress yourselves about this. If you do, you shall make us feel quite embarrassed.”

“Well, we can’t have that,” Torquil murmured before Lady David could reply, and he closed the topic by offering Irene and her sister a bow. “We shall see you both this evening, then. Dinner is at eight, but the family usually begins to gather about half an hour beforehand in the library.” He paused, gesturing to an opened set of doors which led to the room next door. “Please, feel free to join us when you are ready. Edward, see our guests up to their rooms, if you will.”

Irene and Clara followed the footman out of the lavish ivory-and-blue drawing room, back to the wide, sweeping staircase, and up to the second floor, where they were shown into adjoining bedrooms.

Irene’s room was not as ostentatious as the drawing room. Done up in pale green and white, it was light and airy, and though she loathed giving the duke or his house any credit, she had to admit her room was very pretty indeed. Their trunks had been brought up, and both of hers now reposed on the floor at the foot of her bed, open and clearly awaiting the maid who would never come to unpack them.

The sound of a door opening diverted her observations of her surroundings, and she turned as Clara entered through an adjoining door. “Oh, Irene, isn’t it lovely? And we’ve a bathroom that’s just for us. Come and look.”

Irene allowed her sister to pull her through the doorway into a bathroom that was substantial enough to possess not only two doors, but also two marble washstands with water taps, a flush lavatory, and an enameled bath with hot water pipes and a mahogany surround.

“My goodness,” Irene said, laughing in disbelief. “Are we in a hotel?”

“If we are, it’s the Savoy.” Clara paused, looking at her. “We didn’t have the chance to talk much about it earlier, but I know you aren’t happy about this, and I don’t blame you. You must be frantic with worry about the paper.”

“I’m not ready to wave the white flag on that score just yet. Especially not to that man. You don’t mind me fighting to keep it, do you?” she asked. “If I succeed, it’ll mean a smaller dowry for you. And Ellesmere might not be prevailed upon to help launch one granddaughter when the other runs a scandal sheet.”

“I never expected any sort of dowry, so I’m happy even to receive a small one. And your paper means the world to you, I know. I wouldn’t ever want you to lose it.”

“You’re a darling. But I’m afraid losing it is the most likely outcome at this point, for I don’t see how I can change the duchess’s mind. And I confess, I’m not happy at the prospect of attempting to do so.”

“It was very wrong of the Duke to maneuver you into this, of course, but his actions do seem to stem wholly from his concern for his mother’s future happiness. And even if she does marry the Italian in the end, the Duke surely won’t blame you for it.”

“Won’t he?” Irene made a face. “I’m not as hopeful on that score as you are, I’m afraid.”

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