Page 84 of If the Duke Dares
His nurse. Until she’d been dismissed when he was seven. He’d been horribly upset, but his father had assured him that future dukes did not have nurses past the age of seven, that it was time for him to focus on his studies and manly pursuits.
He’d had a dog once. Acton recalled loving him until he’d died. Acton had been nine, perhaps? He’d also loved his first horse. Until his father had said horses were not to be loved, but appreciated and used. They did not require love, just good treatment.
Then there was the cat he vaguely remembered. Had he loved Domino? Acton was frustrated that he couldn’t remember.
Acton’s mother came in then, interrupting his thoughts. He looked up and met her gaze. She appeared tentative. “I wanted to speak with you, but I don’t want to bother you. Should we talk later?”
“Now is fine.” Acton sat up straighter in his chair. “What is it you’d like to discuss?”
She moved to a chair near his and perched on the edge of the cushion. “I’ve just had a visit from Lord and Lady Radstock.”
Acton tensed. “What did they want?” He was careful not to reveal how much he already knew, such as the fact that they were lodging at the White Hart.
The dowager’s features creased, making her appear pained. “They broached a possible marriage contract between you and Pandora. Since it seems you formed a connection the other day at Sydney Gardens when she required your assistance.”
Just managing to hold in a curse, Acton snorted. Doing so reminded him of Persey. Thinking of her soothed his irritation. “I hope you informed them that no connection was formed and that a marriage between us would be absurd.”
“I did not use those precise words, but that was the gist of my response, yes.”
He wiped his hand over his face. “I do appreciate you managing them. Were they angry when they left?” He hoped they wouldn’t retaliate against Pandora or Persey.
His mother lifted a shoulder. “I don’t think so, but I would guess they wouldn’t let it show if they were. Honestly, they seemed…strange. I imagine they are going through a difficult time with the scandal their younger daughter’s behavior with Banemore caused. They are lodging at the White Hart, which is odd since they always stay with the baron’s sister, Lucinda. And I did not receive any response from them about the party tomorrow, just a note from Lucinda confirming her attendance and that of her nieces.”
“Does that mean Radstock and his wife aren’t coming?” Acton asked hopefully.
His mother grimaced faintly. “I’m afraid our interview started with my asking if they were going to attend the party tomorrow night. It was obvious they weren’t aware of it, but the baroness covered well by asking if their affirmative response had not yet been received. That was when she revealed they are at the White Hart—she blamed the loss of the response on their messenger boy.”
Acton frowned, thinking of her loyalty to the baroness. “Did it bother you that she lied and cast blame on an innocent?”
“It did, actually. I was also put off by her—and her husband—suggesting that you marry their younger daughter when they never addressed their previous suggestion that you court their older daughter.” She shook her head. “But, I suppose I understand why they’ve abandoned that course, since they said she has been betrothed to a distant relative. I can scarcely credit how quickly that happened when they were just at Loxley Court to negotiate a marriage between her and you.”
Acton realized she was watching him closely. Hell, he couldn’t act as if he already knew about Persey’s supposed betrothal. “It appears the baron and baroness were simply concerned with marrying their older daughter off as soon as possible.”
“Yes, I’m sure you’re right. I also find that troubling. They should have been supporting their younger daughter.” She clasped her hands in her lap. “I suppose that is easy for me to say as our family has never experienced such an unfortunate event.”
No, because Acton’s reputation and behavior were excused due to the fact that he had a cock. He felt particularly disgusted with himself at that moment.
“Was there any chance you and their older daughter may suit?” The dowager waved her hand. “Forget I asked. That is moot now.”
Yes, it was. Not because she was marrying some cousin, but because she’d refused Acton before he could even ask.
Seeking to change the subject, he leaned slightly forward. “I’ve been meaning to ask you about something. That painting in your sitting room—Father had the exact same painting at Loxley Court.”
“Yes, he did.” She picked at something on her skirt, her gaze not meeting his.
“Did he have a copy made for you?”
“Yes.” She looked toward him, but only for a bare moment. “Any time you sat for a portrait, a copy was made and sent to me. It was part of our…agreement.”
“I see.” Except he didn’t really. He hadn’t even known they’d had one. All he knew was that she’d wanted to live separately, and she and his father had “agreed” that their son would live with his father while their daughters would reside with their mother.
He moved on to the other thing he’d been curious about since arriving here. “My room has my favorite books. And there’s a carving of a cat. I’d forgotten we had a cat.”
“I took him with me when I came to Bath.”
When she’dleft. Why didn’t she use the word that was most appropriate? She’d left him.
“Your father didn’t like the cat,” she added. “I put those things in your room in case you ever visited.” At last, she looked at him and didn’t shift her attention away.
