Page 19 of The Insufferable Duke
“Knowing my mother, she threw it at the ground in anger,” Percival chuckled.
“My mother nearly fainted. You should have seen it.” He was in awe, muttering curses to himself. “I had to catch her as she began to swoon. As for our great-uncle — now that was absurd.”
“Ah, let me guess.” Percival’s smile faltered. “Have his memory troubles caught up with him again?”
“A little.” Christopher folded his arms across his chest, wanting to close himself off from the world. It had been a few years since his great-uncle, Isaac, had started to lose his memory. It wasn’t a consistent thing. Every now and then, he would stare at someone’s face he should have known and question who they were. He was even beginning to forget he’d been married once, long ago, for the memories were fading.
Sometimes, it was heartbreaking to see. Other times, it offered a little lightness, for Christopher was one of the few people who was able to cheer up Isaac when times were hard for him. They’d grown very close. It made those moments when Isaac looked at him without recognition all the harder to bear.
“For a second, he forgot who the Carters were completely,” Christopher lowered his voice to whisper to his cousin. “Then, he flew into a rage. I swear he shouted for an hour at least in fury at the idea of Robert marrying a Carter. After that, he seemed to forget it. When my mother brought it up again at dinner, he was off again. He basically repeated the rant as if it was the first time that he had heard the news.” He shook his head, despairing of the memory. “It is no good, Percival. The family will not accept it very easily.”
“Give it time,” Percy said good-naturedly. “People change. It’s just about making them see what is truly before them.” He shrugged and turned away, looking across the assembly rooms. “Maybe given half the chance, the Carters will see that we Moores are not so wholly bad.”
“And what do we think of the Carters?” Christopher asked.
“You tell me. What do you think of them?” Percy encouraged him on.
“Cold, snobbish,” Christopher said without hesitation. “Take Lady Helena, for instance. Have you ever seen her offer a warm look?”
“She certainly looks at you a great deal. I have noticed that.” Percy smirked.
“Don’t be mischievous.”
“How about honest? She does look at you,” Percy said again.
“As a hungry fox would a chicken,” he muttered, prompting his cousin to laugh.
“How about the way she looks at you now?”
“What? She’s here?” Christopher flicked his head round, trying to find her.
“She’s approaching us.” Percival pointed through the crowds of guests.
Christopher cricked his neck in his haste to look her way. She was walking toward him intently, her eyes fixed upon him.
As was usual, everything was in place with Lady Helena. Her hair was coiffed perfectly, no wisps fallen, and her rouge was thinly applied. Her necklace sat perfectly in the center of her collarbone, and her pale blue gown accented the slender curve of her hip. She was one of the tallest ladies in the room, striking in her presence.
Christopher took a step forward, ready to greet her.
“Eager, are you cousin?”
“Be quiet, Percy.” He glanced back, seeing Percival struggle to stop his snigger.
“Your Grace.” Lady Helena dropped a curtsy as she halted in front of him.
“Lady Helena.” He bowed, aware that she no longer looked at him. She kept looking over her shoulder at the myriad of people that were staring at the two of them, whispering amongst themselves. “Distracted? And here I thought for a change you were actually able to focus on me.”
“You tease, yet again,” she said tiredly, sighing with exasperation.
“Just drawing attention to your lack of focus.”
“Why would I wish to focus on you for any great length of time?” she asked, raising a single eyebrow in taunt.
“Ooh! She has a sharp tongue, doesn’t she?” Percival said with a chuckle.
“You remember my cousin, Lord Sheylough, Lady Helena?” Christopher introduced the two of them, and she curtsied. He could have sworn she curtsied a little deeper to Percival than she did him. It rankled him, and he stood taller, jerking his spine.
“Lord Sheylough,” she muttered in greeting. “Speaking of focus, I wish to claim yours,” she said to Christopher.
