Page 89 of Starlight and the Duke
“But you’re forgetting Lord Aubrey,” Rob said. “We have kept up a correspondence. His father passed away a few months ago, and he is now a duke.”
“The Duke of Weymouth,” Eden added. “He’s kept in touch with us, as well. Sadly, his father faded fast and left poor Trajan a bit overwhelmed. But he’s a capable fellow and will handle the responsibility. He had already taken over most of the duties while his father was alive.”
Lynton snorted. “He’s kept in touch withyou. We all know he’s been holding a torch for you ever since you were first introduced.”
“Not true,” Eden insisted. “He has moved on. He never loved me. I was merely an infatuation.”
Rob was not certain about that, but he hoped Eden was right.
After all, Aubrey had shown a more than passing interest in Florence Newton. Yes, that interest had been mostly because he believed her to be a thief, and this was why he had been following her around like a hound on the scent. But that misunderstanding had been cleared up, and Rob sensed something could have developed between them.
Well, what did he know? His heart had been claimed by Fiona from his earliest days, and he had never had serious feelings for anyone else.
His experience with women came from inconsequential dalliances. Sometimes a lot of dalliances, especially after he had graduated from university, entered Society, and realized Fiona was the only woman he would ever love.
But she was married to Shoreham at the time.
Lord, he’d suffered over those years.
He had never considered seducing her. She was a good person and took her marital vows seriously. Violating them, even with a man who truly loved her, would have shamed her, and she might never have gotten over that feeling of sin.
But now, she was his to love and honor.
“Aubrey?” Bromleigh muttered, rubbing his hands together in glee. “He’ll be the perfect target.”
“Aye,” Camborne said, holding up his wine glass. “A toast to the next Silver Duke—once Lord Aubrey, and now he must get used to his new title, Duke of Weymouth.”
Rob raised his glass. “Who will open the betting book on him?”
“I will, of course,” Lynton said, grinning at his wife when she gave him a light poke in the ribs. “Do not maul me, Eden. I only wish to see him happy. What is so wrong with that?”
“You wish to see him happilyawayfrom Eden,” Fiona jokingly retorted. “But it is a fine idea. I think everyone deserves to find love. I sincerely hope he meets his perfect match.”
“Do you think it could be my friend, Florence?” Jocelyn asked, raising her wine glass in toast. “If bets are to be taken, then my wager is on her.”
Cherish frowned. “But how will they get together? She purposely avoided him last year at my house party. I don’t think she liked him all that much.”
Rob exchanged a grin with Fiona.
“Aubrey will be busy running the Weymouth holdings for years to come. It is possible they will never meet again,” Cherish continued with some dismay.
Margaret also had her glass raised. “They will, if they are truly destined to love each other. Love always finds a way. And I did sense something between them.”
“I surely did not see it,” Reggie muttered, but he cast his wife a doting glance. “However, if Margaret noticed a spark, then there’s a spark. Open up that betting book as soon as you return to London, Lynton.”
Lynton nodded. “Eden and I will be taking the children there as soon as we leave here.”
“The thornier issue,” Camborne remarked, “is how are we to get them to meet again? I doubt either one of them plans to return to London anytime soon.”
“We cannot get involved,” Fiona insisted. “If it is meant to be, then as Margaret said…it shall be.”
Rob rose and held up his glass. “To Aubrey and Florence—may they not merely find love but crash into it headlong.”
Bromleigh laughed heartily. “Hear, hear!”
They all repeated the joke and had a hardy laugh over it.
As the hour grew late, the men stayed up to play billiards and share rounds of brandy while their wives retired early.
