Page 30 of Every Duke Has His Thorn
“What my father has taught me and what I have read,” she replied. “We have visited many great cities on the continent, so I have been exposed to several different architectural styles.”
“What was your favorite city?”
She replied without much thought, “My favorite city abroad is Rome. There is so much history in such a small area.”
“My nephew recently returned from a grand tour of the continent.” The lady asked,” Pray, what is your favorite city, Preston?”
“I enjoyed many things about the places I visited, but I admit Rome won me over with its history.” He glanced at her a moment before returning his attention to his aunt.
Her father then asked Lady Barton about her recent travels.
As they were finishing dessert, the lady said, “I know your grandmother some little bit, Miss Davies. She resides in Oxfordshire on the estate next to my nephew’s estate of Halston Abbey.”
Marina heard her father take in a long breath.
“My grandmother?” she asked, with a frown. Her father’s parents were deceased.
“The Countess of Banbury. I met your mother several times when we were both young girls.”
Marina didn’t know how to reply. She blinked and looked to her father.
“I hope the lady is well,” her father said gravely.
“Oh yes. She is made of sturdy stuff, that one.”
The duke asked her father about the other cities they had visited on the continent as Marina concentrated on the ice cream melting in a cut glass dish in front of her. She looked up to see Lady Barton studying her.
“Sir Joseph, have you noticed any structural problems in the dower house?” the duke asked her father, drawing the attention of Lady Barton.
She knew the men had discussed the dower house in one of their morning meetings, but she was grateful the duke had changed the subject. After a few moments listening to the conversation around her, Marina found her equilibrium returning.
Soon after, the party rose from the dining table and retook their earlier seats on the plush sophas. She gratefully accepted a glass of sherry from the duke. After a few sips, she could feel her shoulders relax.
She felt a yawn coming on but masked it behind a sip of her drink.
“I think we should make a night of it, Marina,” her father said, getting to his feet and putting down his almost untouched glass of brandy. “It has been a long day.”
The duke stood as well. “I’ll see you in the morning, Sir Joseph. Goodnight, Miss Davies.”
“Goodnight, Your Grace, Lady Barton.”
Once outside, she inhaled the cool evening air and exhaled slowly.
“Are you all right, my dear?”
“Oh yes, Father. The lady just took me by surprise.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked softly.
She gave him a weak smile. “There is no need.”
And there wasn’t. Her mother’s family had cut her mother off and disinherited her. What was there to say?
* * * * *
His aunt turned to look at him after their guests had departed. “That Miss Davies is a pretty lass. And her clothes! She looks as if she could have stepped off the pages of La Belle Assemblée.”
Preston agreed. She would not look amiss in the loftiest drawing rooms in London. And her manners were impeccable when dealing with everyone but himself.
