Page 31 of Dancing with an Enigmatic Duke
“How are you, Sterling?”
“I am most well, Your Grace. It pleases me that you should ask.” The doorman waved toward the anxiously waiting butler. “I trust your parents are well, Your Grace?
Nash could not help the slight laugh at the man’s question. “They are quite well, Sterling. You have given no thought to returning to my mother’s employ?”
He shifted, and Nash gave him a reprieve by patting him on the shoulder. Nash understood how his mother could be, and he held the man in no fault for seeking other employment. “Carry on, Sterling. I hold no ill-will for your departure. I would depart myself if I could think of a way to do so.”
“Your Grace, you should not say such things.” Sterling shook his head, but Nash saw the touch of a smile on the man’s face and knew the comment had amused Sterling more than he had taken offense.
Nash headed towards the rather antsy looking butler. He held a parchment as if he were about to recite a great saga. Nash knew the routine. He stopped and waited expectantly as the butler, turned herald for the night, called out, “His Grace, The Duke of Torrington!”
Two servants held the double doors open, and Nash walked into the room beyond where eyes turned eagerly at the sound of his name. Nash’s gaze took in the young women and their chaperones, each calculating his worth and how a marriage would benefit them. He headed directly over to where he saw Harcourt lounging near a table with some other men.
“Harcourt, are you already abandoning your charge?” Nash asked the question lightly. His eyes swept over the men at the table who had turned to look at him. “Lord Fillory, good to see you. It is quite the ball that you have put on.”
Harcourt pursed his lips but remained silent as Lord Fillory stood up to take the hand that Nash held out to him. “I had little to do with it other than providing funds. This is my wife’s affair, I merely show up. Will you join our fair company, Your Grace?”
“I might be persuaded to,” Nash said with an incline of his head toward the lord chief justice of appeal. “Is that Fannery McCoy that I spy cheating at the cards again?”
Fannery McCoy was the youngest son of the Baron of Grissom. He slapped the table. “Does not take a trickster to beat you, Your Grace!”
“You might have a point,” Nash said with a grin as he took the hand that Fannery held out to him. “What are you doing released from the confines of school?”
“Father’s decided that I would serve better here for the time being,” Fannery said. “Harcourt was telling me that you were at this marriage business this year. I scarcely believed it.”
Nash shook his head and took a seat. Harcourt leaned against the wall as he kept his eyes towards the dance floor, no doubt keeping an eye on his sister. “You will hardly find a bride at this table, Your Grace,” Lord Fillory said with a smile as he picked up the cards he had left lying on the table.
It was hard to fight the urge to tell them that where he would not find a bride was right where he wished to be. He had to seem at least a little receptive to the idea for his and Lady Callum’s plan to succeed. “That is true,” Nash said. He rose and looked over at Harcourt. “Speak with me a moment, Harcourt?”
Harcourt looked over at Nash then back at the dance floor. “Of course,” Harcourt agreed reluctantly.
Nash turned with a smile and headed toward a hallway out of sight of the ballroom. When he stopped and looked back at his friend, Harcourt looked decidedly not happy. “What is the matter?”
“I have a duty to look after my sister, Nash. What is it that we could not discuss from where we stood?” The very tension of the man seemed to radiate off him, and Nash wondered if his friend’s veins would soon extrude from his head as they tended to do when Harcourt was vexed.
Nash shrugged. “I simply do not want McCoy reporting back that we are talking of merging fleets. His father is already more than entwined with your business, is he not?”
“He is eager to purchase some of my ships for his own enterprises, but I would hardly say he is entwined.” Harcourt narrowed his eyes at Nash. “What are you about?”
Nash put his hands on Harcourt’s shoulders. “About? I only wish to protect my interests and yours. I am sure it would not sit well if he knew we were going to join forces?”
“We have yet to even decide that,” Harcourt reminded him.
With a wave of his hand, Nash dismissed Harcourt’s words. “That hardly matters. You know that he will be infuriated if he even gets wind that we are considering it.”
“That may very well be, but aggrieving Lord Grissom is not something I am opposed to, Nash.” Harcourt straightened his coat collar. It was a gesture his friend often did when he was irritated.
Nash inclined his head. “Forgive me for being so foolish, my friend. This can wait. We should get back and get this ball over with. We can talk of this another time.”
Harcourt eyed him in confusion. “I think perhaps your mother’s constant meddling has affected your mind.”
Nash laughed heartily and threw his arm around Harcourt’s shoulders. “You might have arrived at the truth of the matter. Let us discuss my mental shortcomings on our next visit.” He guided Harcourt back to the ballroom. “I shall relinquish you back to your chaperone duties, Harcourt.”
With a shake of his head, Harcourt walked away to find his sister. Nash smiled and ducked back out into the hallway. He made his way toward the library as he slipped his hands into his coat pockets.
The music from the ballroom faded with every turn that Nash made towards the library. He paused for just a moment outside the door before he reached for the doorknob. The door came open with an easy swing of the hinges and revealed the silhouette of a lady framed against the light of an oil lamp.
“Sorry to keep you waiting, Lady Callum,” Nash apologised, closing the library door behind him.
