Page 28 of A Duke to Elude (Sherton Sisters 1)

Chapter Ten

Wexford had hoped to be able to avoid gossip, but it didn’t seem that was likely. He wouldn’t compromise the girl, but he needed to know what she knew. Just her very evasiveness told him she knew something she didn’t want to share. He needed to know what it was. He doubted Lady Rosabel was involved in Prescott’s schemes, but anything she might know could help him control the viscount.

It pained him to hear her claim he was being ungentlemanly, but he couldn’t be squeamish at a time like this. He would try to make her see the importance of the matter, and he would make every effort to make up for any churlishness she might think he was displaying. But he couldn’t change his course of action.

Perhaps he had been foolish to think she would confide in him in the middle of a ball. He was normally far more astute. It was possible her beauty had melted his mind. He would have to stop dithering about on this matter. Time was running out. It was unlike him to allow a woman to interfere with his affairs, and it was unheard of for a debutante to be running him around in circles. It was time for him to close this matter and get on with other matters of national trust.

Those thoughts had all chased each other around his mind as he watched Lady Rosabel stalk away from him. It was the most graceful stalking he had ever witnessed, but it was clear, at least to him, that she was more than eager to be rid of him.

It had been outrageous of him to threaten her and her sisters with scandal. He knew he wouldn’t be able to follow through on the threat. But even just extending his association with her ran that risk. It was slight, of course. And there was always the obvious solution, if it became necessary. But he didn’t want to find his duchess in such an underhanded way. Especially not when she had been so clear on the fact that she didn’t want to be one.

But the king was counting on him. With the monarch’s health being so precarious in recent years, it was all the more necessary for him to rely upon his advisors. It was an honour that his king had taken him to fill the previous Duke of Wexford’s place at his side. But it was a responsibility James didn’t feel qualified for. And he took it very seriously. He could not allow a debutante to stand in the way of protecting the realm.

Setting his chin in his customary determined stance, James turned his attention away from the Sherton chit. If he was serious about his effort not to draw attention to his association with her, he would have to dance with others. Even if that made it appear that he was ready to be in the Marriage Mart — that was a small price to pay. In all reality, it would change very little. Matchmaking mamas had been hoping to nab him for their darlings since he had come of age. One could consider it a miracle that he had managed to remain unwed this long. Not that twenty-nine was so very aged, but he had plenty of miles on him despite his years.

Spotting the small clutch of young women standing together on the sidelines, James fought an unwelcome tide of warmth as he remembered Rosabel’s offering him Miss Bridgestone as a potential bride. He wasn’t sure if it was to spite the lady or to amuse her, but he soon found himself escorting the wallflower to the dance floor.

James accepted he was not a gentleman when he caught Lady Rosabel’s eye as he partnered Miss Bridgestone in the quadrille. Rosabel was expertly and gracefully following the lead of some young baron from the wilds of Leicester. After that one speaking glance in his direction, she maintained her focus on her partner and the dance. Wexford would do well to do the same.

“Are you having a pleasant evening, Miss Bridgestone?”

“I am, thank you.”

James was surprised when nothing more was forthcoming, so he tried again.

“Have you been to Rose Park before?”

“No, Your Grace, this is my first time.”

Feeling his lips twitch, James stifled his amusement. It would not help matters in the least if he were to laugh at the young woman.

“Are you enjoying the Season?”

“Very much so, thank you, Your Grace.”

He had thought Rosabel wasn’t a chatterer, but Miss Bridgestone took it to the extreme. Not that James enjoyed dancing with a partner that couldn’t hold her tongue, but surely a little conversation wouldn’t be too much to ask for. Just as Rosabel thought their dance was unending, he was having that same sensation now with Miss Bridgestone. It felt like an involuntary reflex when his gaze again sought that of Lady Rosabel as he escorted his partner from the dance floor.

A cotillion was just about to start as he and Miss Bridgestone approached her friends. Questioning his sanity for the first time that evening, James invited Miss Perkins to partner with him. Her expression was slightly quizzical, but she accepted readily enough.

James was relieved when she turned out to be much easier to carry a conversation with. Until she started to chatter.

“And then Lana told me about the pistachio flavour, and I just had to try it. Have you tried it yet, Your Grace? You really must. It is the best I’ve ever had.”

Wexford blinked, chastising himself for allowing his mind to wander for a moment.

“I have not yet had the pleasure,” he managed to respond before she was off on another gambit.

“And the ribbons are much better on Bond Street than anything we could ever get in our village so, of course, they all have to be replaced. You know how Lady Beaverbrook can be.”

Thankfully, this time, she didn’t seem to be awaiting a response from him. All James needed to do was nod and smile from time to time and the woman seemed content. From observation alone, he would have considered Miss Bridgestone would be the chatterbox and Miss Perkins would be the silent one, but that certainly wasn’t his experience this evening. He could imagine Rosabel’s eyes dancing with humour at him, even as their corners would squint in that attractive way they had when she was trying hard not to reveal her amusement.

In that moment, Wexford accepted that he was in trouble. The young woman was embedded in his mind. It was unacceptable. He wished wholeheartedly that he could wash his hands of the entire affair and return to his estate. But King George was counting on his discrete inquires and swift solution to this mess. If he couldn’t manage a few debutantes, the monarch would need to wash his hands of his courtier.

Not that James would mind being dismissed from court, but it was his duty. Besides, he couldn’t allow Prescott and his cronies any more influence than they already had.

With a bow and a smile, he was able to rid himself of the chattering young woman, and he decided that he had done enough to cover up for any observers that could have remarked upon his attention to Rosabel. There would be more for the gossips to chatter about, and he had enough chatter for one day. He would rather pursue his other obligations, including the pile of papers that were surely growing on his desk.

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