Page 59 of If the Duke Dares
“It will if Mama and Papa are there.” Pandora blinked several times. “Where are they?”
“I’ve no idea.”
“I can’t believe you left them, and they just continued on to Loxley Court as if that wasn’t a huge problem—as well as dangerous.” Pandora smiled faintly and touched Persephone’s hand again. “I’m glad the duke found you and kept you safe. It’s good to know there is at least one decent gentleman out there. Though, I still can’t believe someone like that would be friendly with Bane. What happens next?”
“I’m not sure, but Acton and I discussed taking a promenade in Sydney Gardens or tea at the Pump Room.”
“I’m not sure I’d want to sit somewhere,” Pandora said, her face going a shade lighter than it had been. “If we’re in the park, I can hide or escape.”
Persephone wanted to tell her that wouldn’t be necessary, but she truly had no idea what would happen. Escape would be a good alternative if things went poorly. “Then I shall advocate for the gardens.”
“Thank you, Persey. I don’t know what I would do without you.”
Persephone grinned. “Then it’s most excellent that you will never have to find out.”
Chapter14
As soon as Acton returned to his mother’s house, he drafted and posted letters to Somerton, Droxford, Shefford, and the damnable Bane. Somerton and Droxford would likely be easy to find. Somerton’s estate wasn’t far from Bath, and Droxford was nearly always in residence at his house in Hampshire. The letters to Shefford and Bane had gone to their fathers’ ducal residences, with express directions to forward them to Shefford and Bane if they were not present.
Hopefully, someone would know where Bane was currently or at least if he indeed planned to wed. One would think there would be an announcement in a newspaper, but Acton hadn’t seen anything. Not that Acton had been looking for it. Furthermore, if there had been an announcement published, the identity of Bane’s mystery bride would be on everyone’s lips, wouldn’t it? He’d ask his sisters about it.
First, however, he wanted to see the portrait in his mother’s sitting room that the butler had mentioned. After asking for directions from the housekeeper, he made his way to her suite on the first floor at the back of the house.
Her sitting room was simply but beautifully decorated in sunny yellow and pale blue. He found it cheerful and imagined it brightened even the dreariest winter day. It fit what he knew of his mother. Since becoming acquainted with her over the past months, he’d found her almost universally pleasant. In some ways, she reminded him of himself. That seemed strange since he’d grown up away from her influence. However, perhaps some things were simply ingrained in one’s blood.
The portrait was easy to spot. It hung between ones of his sisters. They all appeared to have been done around the same age—when they were in their early twenties. The resemblance between them was obvious when he looked at them together like that. He shared his eye shape with Francesca and his mouth with Cecily. The latter took the most after their mother with her smile and freckles.
The most important detail, however, was that this portrait of him was identical to the one his father had installed in his study at Loxley House. He had to have had this copy made for Acton’s mother. Acton wanted to know the story behind that. Had she asked for a portrait? Had his father simply had it copied and given it to her? Were there other copied portraits? Acton had sat for at least three others in his youth, one of them at the age of eighteen with his father.
Acton had only ever heard his father’s perspective regarding his wife’s departure. They’d agreed it was best if they lived apart, for they simply liked different things. It had taken Acton years to realize they hadn’t liked each other.
For the life of him, he couldn’t recall his mother leaving. Surely a five-year-old boy would have been made distraught by that? Thinking about it now, Acton was confused as to how his mother could leave like that.
He realized he’d never spent too much time pondering it. Because his father had repeatedly told him that dwelling on such things weakened a man’s constitution. In some ways, Acton agreed because the more he thought about it, which he had in recent months, the more uncomfortable he became. It was much easier—and less painful—to put it from his mind.
Turning from the portrait, Acton made his way from the sitting room and immediately encountered Simmons. “A missive has arrived for you, Your Grace.” He handed Acton a folded piece of parchment.
“Thank you, Simmons.” Acton opened the paper as the butler walked away.
We would prefer to promenade at Sydney Gardens, if you are still considering a social outing. Today would suit if that is acceptable to you. If not, I will understand.
With gratitude,
Persey
She’d signed it Persey. Acton smiled as a giddiness tripped through him. Of course he was still considering it. He was committed to helping. Or trying to, anyway. He’d already sent letters to his friends, and eagerly awaited their responses.
“Sydney Gardens it is,” he murmured before making his way to the drawing room. His sisters were there; Francesca was at the desk writing and Cecily was in a chair by one of the windows reading.
“Good afternoon,” Acton greeted them. “I was hoping you might promenade with me this afternoon in Sydney Gardens.”
“That would be lovely,” Cecily said, looking up from her book.
He couldn’t not tell them about the Barclay sisters joining them. Would their aunt also accompany them? Most certainly as their chaperone.
“I confess I have an ulterior motive. The purpose of the promenade is for me and Miss Barclay, whom our mother wished for me to meet, to determine if we will suit.”
“Was that your call this morning?” Francesca asked, pivoting toward him in her chair at the desk.
