Page 6 of A Duke to Elude (Sherton Sisters 1)

The gasp of laughter this produced from her brought him genuine pleasure. It was all he could do to restrain his own grin.

She sighed again but finally spoke. Or rather, he thought it was more like a growl, such a surprise coming from her seemingly gentle, ladylike lips. And all the while keeping a pleasant expression on her face. It was a remarkable ability he couldn’t help but admire.

“If you must know,” she finally said, although he knew it was grudgingly. “I have never thought about others’ discomfort. Not truly. Not like I did today seeing those three girls. They looked lonely despite the crowd and suddenly, I couldn’t seem to help myself.” She sighed again. “It was most uncomfortable.”

James wanted to grin over the disgruntled sound of her voice, but he was consumed with interest. “Speaking with them was uncomfortable?”

She hesitated. A quick glance revealed that she was pondering his question. “No,” she said slowly, a frown in her voice. “They seem like pleasant enough women. But the urge within me was uncomfortable. A part of me feels as though I ought to ignore it in the hopes that it will go away and never return. But another part of me feels as though this is perhaps how I ought to have felt all along. So, entirely uncomfortable all around, I do say,” she concluded with a pleasant smile and a bracing tone.

“Might I take you for a drive tomorrow?”

For the first time, she almost displayed her emotion as her step hitched slightly. She quickly recovered, but James had noticed. As she looked at him fully for the first time, he could see amusement deep in her bright blue gaze.

“Now who’s the strange creature?”

He laughed out loud for the second time in her presence and perhaps the second time in his public, adult life.

“Will you come with me?” He had never had to ask a woman twice. In fact, he’d never had to ask. Not that he took a lady driving very often, as it was sure to cause talk and give her ideas. But he was so enjoying her company and would like to speak with her further, especially when they could speak more freely than they could in the thinning crowds of her mother’s receiving rooms.

“I didn’t think dukes did the grand promenade.”

James blinked and came to himself. “You are quite correct. It is not something I very often have time for. But for the first time this age, I do have a few hours to spare.”

She lifted her eyebrows slightly. “Should I feel honoured that you are offering those few spare hours to me?” she asked, her tone haughty for a moment before a slight frown pinched between her eyebrows and she sighed again before shaking her head ever so slightly. “Actually, I do feel honoured,” she said, in an altered tone. “And I would, in fact, enjoy riding with you tomorrow, thank you for asking.”

James momentarily wanted to freeze her out suddenly. Wanted to resist the lure of her awakening sense of responsibility. But it was alluring, and his resistance was dwindling.

He nodded toward her before releasing her arm as they approached one of her sisters. “It has been a pleasure, my lady.”

Without a backward glance he strode away.

∞∞∞

James left the wedding celebrations feeling decidedly out of sorts. He couldn’t quite put a finger on the source of his disquiet, but a part of him rather suspected the blame could be placed at Lady Rosabel’s dainty feet. He couldn’t recall ever having been intrigued by a woman since he was perhaps sixteen years of age. But her surprise over her charitable feelings was the sweetest thing he had witnessed in an age. He hoped to see her embrace the inclination.

He ran a negligent hand through his hair. It wasn’t as though he would have a great deal of time for this observation, though. As it was, even though he hadn’t lied to her when he said he had time for a drive the next day, it would stretch him thin. She hadn’t been wrong when she questioned his availability. The Season coincided with the sitting of the House and increased audiences with King George. It was the busiest time of his year. Not that there was ever really a non-busy time.

Making a rare appearance at White’s, James hoped to finalize some negotiations he had been pursuing. A few articles of business from the House were dragging on far too long. It was ridiculous that Lords Heatherington and Prescott couldn’t make up their minds upon which side of the issue to take their stand. If he could convince them over a couple glasses of port, he would feel even more comfortable with his plans for the next day.

It was incomprehensible to James that the matter of British North America even needed to be discussed again. It had only been four years since it was agreed that the War Office would oversee the colonies rather than the Home Office. While James could understand why some didn’t think the Secretary of State for War needed to be involved in such oversight, the fact that the colonies were so fractious made it prudent, to his mind. The fact that some members of the House wanted to debate the issue once more was only going to rile up the colonies for more conflict, in James’ opinion. He needed Heatherington to agree to support the side of peaceful resolution and leave the matter as is. James was reasonably sure he could convince the man. It was Prescott that wanted to rile things up.

James still couldn’t figure what Prescott thought to gain from the conflict. He would have to remember to have his secretary look into that aspect. In the meantime, he could see Lord Heatherington sitting alone. His timing was impeccable.

“Could I join you in a glass of port, my lord?”

“Wexford! What a surprise to see you here.” The rotund, older gentleman struggled to get out of the chair he had sprawled in. James quickly waved away the man’s efforts to rise in order to bow to him.

“Be easy, my lord. I’d appreciate some company.” It might not have been completely truthful, but James was comfortable with his words, as they had the desired effect of settling the other gentleman, who quickly waved over a passing waiter.

“A bottle of your best, my good man,” Heatherington ordered.

Two hours later, the duke was finally able to mount the steps to his house. James had managed not to overindulge, even though the same could not be said for Heatherington. It had made the conversation much easier, though, and James had managed to secure the information he needed from the man. Both his agreement to stop supporting Prescott’s bid to unsettle the colonies, and a little insight as to why that man thought to do so. There was still much he needed to know, but James felt a little more settled in his obligations on the matter.

As he entered his house, James was relieved that he hadn’t worn court dress for the wedding, but he was still looking forward to changing into something a little more comfortable before he adjourned to his library to review the paperwork left there by one of his clerks. It didn’t take long to loosen his cravat and remove his outer layers. He could don a dressing robe for the little bit of time he would spare for seeing to his own personal business.

A quick glance told him that his silver mine needed some shaft reinforcements and a storm had damaged the roofs of a couple tenants on the Carstowe estate. Those would be the most pressing issues he would have his secretary, Dale Lewis, see to. The rest could wait or at least be left to clerks to handle. After making several notes for Mr. Lewis, including the request that Prescott’s business interests in Upper and Lower Canada be looked into, James headed toward his chamber to submit himself to his valet’s ministrations. His day wouldn’t be over until long after night fell.

James kept his gaze averted from his bed. It would be too tempting to take a moment to lie down and rest.

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