Page 21 of Dancing with an Enigmatic Duke
Soon enough, Nash was placing the letter into an envelope that he carried with him to the front door. The doorman held the door open for him. “Thank you, Thomas. Has Charles come back in yet?”
“Not yet, Your Grace.”
Nash headed out the door and to the stables, which were a short walk down a path through the front garden. “Charles!” Nash called out.
Charles appeared with a smile on his face. “Your Grace?”
“I need this letter sent to the country estate. Will you see to it?” Nash held the letter out to Charles, who took it with a bow of his head. “I am going out for the afternoon. Should there be need of me, I shall be at the office or Lord Pentworth’s residence.”
“Very good, Your Grace,” Charles said with another dip of his head. “Your horse is being saddled. I shall see about getting this letter dispatched.”
Nash nodded. As soon as Charles was out of sight, one of the stable boys emerged with a stallion saddled up for Nash to ride. “Here you go, Your Grace,” he said proudly.
Nash patted the horse on the back of his neck. “Thank you,” he said as the boy’s name evaded him. He liked to call the staff by their names, but they had taken on a few newcomers and Nash had yet to get their names down.
He pulled himself up in the saddle and sighed in relief as he rode away from the house. He normally did not mind being at home. But with his parents visiting, the house had seemed somewhat crowded. The threatening rain clouds were more welcome than the bustle of his household at the moment.
Originally, he had set out to go to the office. But he found himself riding aimlessly. His wanderings brought him to Harcourt’s home, and Nash thought that fine. He turned the stallion into the entrance to the modest estate.
A stable boy ran out to meet him. “Shall I stable him, Your Grace?”
“Might as well,” Nash said with a nod as he slid out of the saddle and handed the reins to the boy. He was making his way up to the house when a carriage arrived. Nash turned as the footman jumped down and hurried to open the door.
A French accent scolded the footman for placing the step too far from the carriage. “So sorry, Miss.” The footman quickly repositioned the step closer and held his hand up to help the maid down.
“My Lady could have broken her neck on that step,” Francesca scolded. The footman shrank back, and Nash shook his head. It was then that Francesca spotted Nash. She gasped. “Your Grace, I did not see you there.”
“I imagine the drama with the step was very distracting,” Nash replied with a wave of his hand.
The footman held his hand aloft to help Lady Callum out of the carriage. He murmured, “My apologies, Lady Callum.”
“It is quite well,” Lady Callum assured him. He fretted some, but she patted him on the shoulder. “Francesca worries too much. My legs are much longer than hers.”
Francesca did not look pleased. Lady Callum, however, did not seem to notice. Her eyes lit upon him. “Your Grace, have you come to visit my brother?”
The footman was swiftly back on the carriage, which rumbled away towards the carriage house set off behind the stables. The front door swung upon and the doorman called, “Welcome back, Lady Callum. Have you bags to be retrieved?”
“The driver said he would bring them up, Richard,” she called. “His Grace is here to see my brother.”
Nash laughed. “Actually, she never gave me the chance to say what I was visiting for, but I am here to see Lord Pentworth.”
“Oh, did I not?” Lady Callum looked at Nash, and he wondered if she were jesting or if she truly had forgotten.
Nash waved his hand toward the open door. “Let us not keep Richard standing there, shall we?”
Lady Callum nodded and hurried up the steps. Francesca favoured Nash with a smile. She placed her hand on his arm. “It is good to see you, Your Grace,” she whispered, her soft accent colouring her words.
Nash had little trouble not smiling at the woman. He had been the object of plenty of women’s ambitions, and Francesca seemed just the sort. When he did not return her smile, Francesca gave him a puzzled look before she turned to follow her mistress into the house.
Richard gave Nash a friendly smile. “I shall tell the earl that you here to see him, Your Grace.”
“Thank you, Richard,” Nash said as he loosened his cravat. Charles had pulled the fabric a bit too tightly around his neck and it was threatening to choke him.
The ladies had gone upstairs. Nash could tell by the sound of their voices carrying back down the stairs. He could not make out much of what they were saying, but he really should not have been listening at all.
Richard was back a moment later. “His Lordship is waiting for you just outside his study.”
“Very good,” Nash said. Sure enough, Harcourt was waiting outside the door to his study, fidgeting with a scarf. “Thinking of hanging yourself?”
