Page 45 of A Duke to Elude (Sherton Sisters 1)

“True. And for the most part, I’m grateful for that.”

Her tinkle of laughter was quickly followed by a question. “Why would you say that?”

“If they cannot be bothered to care, they’d be far more trouble than they’re worth, for one thing. For another, some of the lords who care a little but not enough to be bothered themselves, which I might add is many of them, appoint someone to take their place. And those men are usually keen and eager. They are often annoying and ambitious as well, but at least they pay attention and, at least in theory, represent the best intentions toward those they are supposed to represent.”

“It all sounds fascinating.” She sounded as though she meant it, which endeared her further to James.

“You could always watch sometime. Many do attend in the galleries.”

“I’m not at all certain that my mother would allow it.” She sounded hesitant as she began but then grew in conviction. “Perhaps I shall ask my father. If he agrees, she shan’t gainsay him.”

James smiled over her sudden enthusiasm.

“When would be the best time, do you suppose?” Her nose wrinkled in the cutest way as she asked the question.

“It would depend on what you might be interested in. I will try to find out for you when certain things are to be debated, and you can choose from there.”

“Thank you, Your Grace,” she murmured, turning away to watch the passing traffic.

It felt to James as though she had again withdrawn from him. A quick glance revealed that she was again nearly expressionless, with just a small, pleasant smile affixed to her face. Having spent the day with her and having witnessed her true expressions, he now knew with certainty that the lack was a façade to cover her true feelings. He didn’t like to see it, but he understood that it was not intended as an insult to him, as he had taken it that first day they had gone driving. She was a complicated mixture of thoughts and feelings. If only he wasn’t so preoccupied, he thought with a mental sigh.

The rest of their journey passed in silence as they made their way to the Sherton townhouse. As he pulled to a stop in front, she turned to him with a small, but seemingly genuine smile as she placed her hand briefly on his arm.

“Thank you for today. It turned out not to be such a disappointment after all.”

James appreciated the teasing twinkle in her eyes as she said that.

“Do you think I ought to accompany you to mitigate any censure from the countess?”

Rosabel sighed. “No, that would only be a kindness to me, but not to my mother. I don’t want her entertaining any ideas. I will be as truthful with her as I can manage without telling her everything that I didn’t tell in the past. She might ring a peal over me, but it’ll be done and over with.”

Already a footman was hurrying down the stairs toward them. James knew it would be foolish for him to get down to try to lift her down, as she was already turning toward the servant. He placed his hand over hers where it still rested on his arm.

“We shall see each other soon, I’m sure.”

The smile she offered him then didn’t quite reach her eyes, and she withdrew her hand without a word. James was inordinately disappointed when she didn’t even turn to wave goodbye when she reached her front door. Without a word or a glance, she disappeared from sight. Even the maid had turned toward him with a slight wave before following her mistress. James had the strongest impulse to pursue her, which he ignored, of course, but it was a close-run thing. James quickly set his horses into motion, heading for home. He needed to dress for court, which would take some time. He was due there sooner than later. It was good they hadn’t lingered in Brixton, James assured himself, even as he tried to shrug off his disappointment in the excursion’s conclusion.

∞∞∞

Pressed and powdered to within an inch of his life, James finally left the gentle ministrations of his valet with just enough time to reach St. James’ Palace. It was a relief that George only held audience three times a week and didn’t require that all his courtiers attend all of them. It was enough of a challenge attending once or twice each week. The necessity to dress as though revisiting a previous century was tiresome, and the formality required at court was straining. But it was what one must do to maintain one’s influence, so Wexford made his way there as often as he could.

James just hoped Prescott wasn’t there.

Lord Prescott had been trying to court the king’s support and influence government decisions as long as James could remember. It was one of the first things James’ father had warned him about in those two months they had been able to spend together when James had been pulled home from his Tour. The elder Duke of Wexford had been suspicious of Prescott’s motives but had never been able to prove anything. Now, James was convinced that the underhanded earl was up to no good. Aside from his affront on Rosabel, James knew Prescott was stirring up trouble in the colonies for his own gains.

Before he had left his house, he had asked Mr. Lewis to look into what had been debated in the House three years before, when Prescott had been so intent on gaining Sherton’s support that he had tried to compromise Rosabel. James reminded himself that he couldn’t think about her right now. It would cloud his judgment and had the potential of making him lose his iron control. And he would need all his faculties if he was going to manage Prescott without injuring the king’s fragile feelings. Ever since the monarch’s recent bout of illness, he had been more sensitive than usual. He would not take well to realizing he had been duped by someone he had been coming to trust.

James rubbed his forehead, trying to forestall the headache that wanted to gather there, careful not to disturb his powdered hair. It had been comforting to discuss the matter with his valet. It had turned out the man was remarkably informed.

“You seem tense, Your Grace,” his valet, Charles, had remarked as he deftly twisted James’ necktie into place.

“It has already been an eventful day,” James commented.

“And soon to be even more so, I dare say,” Charles remarked as he stepped back to admire his own handiwork.

James sighed. “I wish you were wrong, but I’m sure you are correct.”

“Is it Prescott again?”

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