Page 51 of The Duke of Kisses
Chapter 9
It was after three in the afternoon before David was able to make his way to Berkeley Square. He’d been busy with other appointments and commitments and was finally free to do what had been at the forefront of his mind since last night: see Fanny and tell her he only wanted to courther.
He walked briskly up the steps to the front door of Clare House and was instantly greeted by the butler, who welcomed him inside.
“I’m afraid Miss Snowden is not present. Would you like to see His Grace?”
Disappointment pitched through David. Perhaps Clare could tell him when she would return. Or perhaps he could speak with Clareuntilshe returned. “Yes, please.”
“Very good. If you’ll just wait in the sitting room.” The butler gestured for David to enter a bright room decorated in golds and blues that looked out to the square. Once David was inside, the butler closed the door, leaving him alone.
David’s gaze caught a pretty painting of a blue tit hanging on the wall. With its gold breast and blue wings and head, it perfectly complemented the room’s décor. It was a stunning piece of art as well as an accurate depiction of the species.
The door opened, and Clare strode inside. “Good afternoon, St. Ives. I understand you came to see Fanny.”
David turned, clicking his heels together. “I did, though I’m delighted to see you as well.”
The duke flashed a smile, but his gaze was serious. “Fanny and Ivy have returned to Stour’s Edge.”
They’d left town? The disappointment inside him spread, leaving a hollow expanse. Had he driven her away? “I came to tell her I wanted to court her.” He realized he should have asked Clare’s permission.
“You’re too late, I’m afraid.” Clare’s tone was unsympathetic.
“Am I?” Just because she’d left London didn’t mean she was lost to him—unless there was something he didn’t know. “Is there someone else?”
Clare lifted a shoulder. “Not that I’m aware of. I am, however, aware that your attentions are directed to another young lady. Or did I misunderstand?”
“You did not. It is a complicated explanation, and one I’d rather not bother with, particularly since it is now moot. My attention will only be directed at Fan—Miss Snowden. If she will permit it.” He winced. “Would it meet with your approval for me to court your sister-in-law?”
Narrowing his gaze at David, the duke scrutinized him for a moment. “I won’t allow you to break her heart. I’d have to thrash you.”
“Only after I thrashed myself,” David said.
Clare straightened, exhaling. “Good. I understand you got in the way of things last night with Royston and Hornsby. I’d hate for you to be involved in another duel.”
Was he threatening David? Yes, he rather thought he was. “That duel didn’t happen. Hornsby came to his senses.”
“Most men do.”
David wondered if the duke was speaking of his own experience. He’d heard last night that the duke had challenged a viscount named Bothwick, who had dared insult Ivy. The duel hadn’t occurred, however, and David was curious about what had happened. Despite that, he had no intention of asking.
“May I call on her at Stour’s Edge, then?” David asked deferentially.
“I might suggest writing to her first, but I have no objection—provided you keep your word to me.”
David had been about to say he was a man of honor, that he always kept his word. Except he hadn’t. Not to his father. The anguish inside him drove him to say, “If I break her heart, you have my permission to thrash me, destroy me, utterly ruin me.”
“We’ve an agreement, then.” Clare nodded, and his demeanor lightened. “You can’t be planning to leave London now? You just took your seat in the Lords.”
In truth, he shouldn’t leave until the Season was over. Or at least nearly over. “I won’t go—not yet. I will, however, write to her. Thank you for the suggestion. And your permission.”
“Just remember that Fanny has a father,” Clare said. “If you desire to move past courtship, you’d best speak with him—John Snowden in Pickering, Yorkshire.”
“I will do that, thank you.” David made to leave, but Clare pivoted, which halted David’s progress.
Clare pinned him with a steady stare. “Ivy and I care for Fanny very much. It seems she may care for you—I would hope that the depth of her feelings would be reciprocated.”
“I believe they are.” David could only hope that she would return his affection. “And maybe more so,” he added softly.
