Page 106 of Courting Scandal With The Duke
Aunt Lenore adjusted her shawl around her shoulders, tied and untied the ends. ‘He did mention he planned to visit a friend. Said he would be gone for two or three days.’
‘And no one thought to mention it to me?’
‘He visited when you were out yesterday afternoon. I forgot all about it.’
‘Perhaps the Foreign Office knows where he is?’ Barbara mused.
Her aunt looked scandalised. She sniffed. ‘They wouldn’t tell you even if they knew, and you can wager your best handkerchief they will tell him you enquired after him upon his return.’
Her aunt did not like ‘the ministry types,’ as she called them. They never revealed Father’s whereabouts, no matter the need.
Barbara was pretty sure that he left instructions that no one, except perhaps the minister, was to be informed where he could be found.
‘Bother,’ she said.
The butler arrived with the tea, and there was nothing more she could say until the tray was placed in front of them and the butler left.
‘Petit fours,’ her aunt exclaimed. ‘So dainty. Do try one.’
Barbara took a bite from one. She tasted lemon icing with raspberry jam filling between the layers of cake.
They were indeed delicious.
Xavier would like these. She had noticed he had a sweet tooth.
Dash it! It didn’t matter to her one whit what Xavier liked.
Perhaps it was for the best that Father had disappeared. If Barbara could not speak to him, neither could Xavier.
If he even still wanted to. Barbara had already sent round a message containing the good news. He did nothaveto lower himself to marry her after all. The pains in her belly that morning had made that clear enough. A baby was not in the offing.
Now all she needed was to continue to make herself completely ineligible—and useless to her father—and she could continue on with her life as planned, as if she’d never met Xavier.
She tried to ignore the painful squeeze of her heart. It was a foolish organ, and it did not help her in the least.
‘Oh, Barbara,’ said her aunt. ‘I almost forgot. You received this this morning.’ She held up a sealed letter.
Barbara broke the seal. ‘An invitation to a ball on Thursday. From a Lady Wells. Do you know her?’
Her aunt frowned. ‘No. I do not recall her at all. Thursday, you say? Why so late an invitation? I can’t possibly go. My friend Mrs Thurskinvited me to play cards that evening. I have been looking forward to it. You will have to decline.’
She didn’thaveto do anything. ‘She offers an overnight stay and a grand ball under the stars. It sounds quite charming.’ It might be the perfect opportunity to escape from London, if she could only find a way to accomplish her utter ruin in the meantime.
She sighed. ‘I may go, if I can find a suitable escort.’ She put the invitation aside.
She picked up the newspaper from the floor and glanced at the advertisements.
It was open at the results of the horse races at Epsom Downs. ‘Are you gambling on the horses, Aunt?’
Her aunt gave a little snort of scorn. ‘Certainly not.’
‘Hmm.’ Barbara glanced down the list of horses but did not see a name she recognised.
Men loved their horse racing because it involved gambling. As did several other of their sports, cockfighting and bullbaiting and boxing. Blood sports they were called. Unsuitable for a lady’s delicate sensibilities, according to Xavier’s list of rules.
She lifted her head and stared unseeing at her aunt. Well, maybe that—
‘Barbara?’
