Page 21 of Moonstone Angel
“That is true,” Cara said, then snapped her mouth shut. It wasn’t her place to give an opinion about his poor selection, certainly not in public. Who was she anyway to admonish him? Hadn’t she made a mess of her own first choice? “I mean…ah, apple tart. My favorite. I think I shall stuff my mouth with it now.”
The duke chuckled.
They left soon after because Duchess Anne was tiring, and Dr. Hewitt had planned to stop by later anyway. They’d taken a hired coach, and the driver was a cousin of her father’s by the name of Mortimer Angel. When they returned to her cottage, the duke assisted his grandmother while Mortimer helped her down. “Cara, m’love. I see you are doing quite well. Stop in and visit us when you have a moment. The children are eager to see you again.”
“I will Cousin Mortimer.” She bussed his cheek.
“Let us know if you need anything.”
She waved farewell and then hastened inside to assist the duchess. She also tried not to feel disheartened, for she had never felt the class distinction as strongly as she did today. It wasn’t anyone’s fault, certainly not Chloe or Phoebe who had shown her every kindness. But they were ladies, and it was obvious in the grace with which they moved and the charm with which they spoke.
On the other hand, she had an uncle who was a tavern keeper. A cousin who was a coach driver. Her father had been a solicitor, as was another of her uncles who had set up his office in London.
She had been well educated, but how could she possibly compete for a duke’s attention against any of these elegant ladies?
No, she could not dwell on the impossible.
She caught up to the duke and his grandmother. “You look tired, Duchess Anne. I hope we did not overdo it.”
“I had a lovely time. Help me undress, Cara dear. I think I shall have a light supper in bed. Ask Mildred to bring it in for me later.”
“I’ll let her know,” the duke said and left them in his grandmother’s bedchamber.
Cara helped her into her nightclothes and tucked the covers around her. “Are you sure you are all right?”
“Yes, dear. I am just perfect. As Dr. Hewitt will confirm when he stops by. Go look after my grandson. He’ll get into mischief if he’s left on his own for too long.”
Cara laughed. “He knows how to behave himself. He’s been surprisingly easy company these past few weeks. I never would have guessed it from our first meeting.”
“He likes you. You are good for him.”
Cara laughed again, certain the duchess was jesting. “Well, we haven’t killed each other. That is an accomplishment.”
“My dear, I am serious.” She took Cara’s hand. “Have you not noticed the way he looks at you?”
“As though he wants to throttle me? Yes, I’ve seen that expression a time or two.”
“You are being purposely dense. He likes you, Cara.”
She shook her head vehemently. “He tolerates me, Your Grace. That is something altogether different. Do you not think Lady Phoebe might be a match for him? It may be a year or two before she has her come-out, but your grandson would not mind waiting for her.”
“And what of you? Do you not care for him?”
“Why should my feelings matter?” The heat of a blush crept up her cheeks. “I do like him, as you well know because you have a discerning eye. But it is ridiculous to think anything can ever come of it. Would he not be disgraced by marrying me?”
“Nonsense, child.”
“It isn’t nonsense, Your Grace. What put such a notion in your head? Are you not his grandmother? Do you not want what is best for him?”
“I do, my dear. Very much so.” She gave her hand a gentle squeeze and stared at her pointedly. “I do. Open your heart, Cara.”
Cara walked out numbly shaking her head.
Had she misinterpreted the duchess? Was she giving her approval of something beyond friendship between her and her grandson? It could not be.
The duke frowned as she approached him. He’d stepped out onto the veranda to watch the setting sun, as had become their nightly ritual. “Cara, what’s wrong? Is she not feeling well?”
“She’s fine.”
