Page 45 of The Duke Meets His Match

Chapter 10

Evans had just finished shavingGeorge’s face for the second time today when Talbot entered George’s dressing room. “Excuse the interruption, Your Grace, but a note has arrived for you from Walmsley House.”

“Hmm.” George finished wiping the lather from his face and tossed the towel to Evans, who caught it adeptly. The plan for this evening was for Miss Jennings and Lady Walmsley to enjoy a quiet night in after having taken tea at the Duchess of Atherton’s home while he took supper at White’s. He thought it a good opportunity to give the ladies a brief respite and for him to assess how word had spread.

The delivery of a note struck a warning bell within him.

“Walmsley House, you say?”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

George took the note from the salver Talbot held out while Evans set about straightening the shaving toiletries. He broke the seal and read it.

G, I have concluded that our agreement is flawed, if the past few days are any indication, and I am reconsidering. Please advise. Yours, SJ

His stomach balled into a knot.

Our agreement is flawed, and I am reconsidering.

Blast the woman! At least she hadn’t fled to Lincolnshire without anywarning and left George high and dry. “Plans have changed, Evans,” he said. “Somethinga bit less elegant, if you please. In fact, something considerably less elegant.Talbot, is the footman from Walmsley House awaiting a reply?”

“I requested he do so, Your Grace, just in case you wished to send one,” Talbot said. “He wouldn’t have remained otherwise.”

“Tell him to inform Miss Jennings that she is to prepare for a visit from the Duke of Aylesham in a half hour’s time,” he said. “And,by thunder,she’d better be ready to see me,” he muttered to himself. “Don’t tell the footman that last part, Talbot.”

“Understood, Your Grace.” Talbot left.

“Are we dressing the part of a simple country gentleman, then, Your Grace?” Evans asked with mock meekness.

“It isn’t funny, you know,” George growled. “And the answer is yes.”

“Very good, Your Grace,” Evans said.

Perhaps George could salvage this. Perhaps there was a way to convince Miss Jennings to continue. For if she were to back out of their agreement now, it would be exponentially worse than had she never agreed in the first place. At least when he’d been briefly betrothed to Lady Louisa—

He waited to see if the bitter feelings returned at the thought of her, but they did not. At least she had cried off before their betrothal had been made public.

Soon enough, George was dressed and on his way to Walmsley House, his mood diminishing further the closer the carriage got to its destination. When they eventually reached Walmsley House, he bounded out of the carriage before it had even come to a full stop and rapped on the door as soon as he reached it. He stood there fuming, waiting for someone to answer.

Eventually, Lady Walmsley’s ancient butler, Foster, opened the door.

“I am here to speak to Miss Jennings,” George said curtly.

“Ah, Your Grace,” the old man replied. “Welcome. I shall inform MissJennings of your arrival.” He made way for George to enter the house and directed him formally to the front parlor. “Please, make yourself at home.”

The old man left, shutting the door behind him and leaving George alone with his thoughts. He was too restless to sit, so he wandered over to the window, but there was nothing of interest to be seen, so he moved to the fireplace and studied the landscape painting hung above the mantel. After a few minutes, thedoor reopened, and George turned toward it, expecting to see Miss Jennings.Instead, it was old Foster again.

“Pardon my interruption, Your Grace, but I thought you might enjoy a small sherry.” He entered the room carrying a silver tray bearing bottles and glasses and placed the collection on a side table. “Would you like me to pour one for you? Or perhaps you’d prefer a brandy.”

“Neither, thank you,” George said.

“Very well, Your Grace,” Foster said. He turned to leave, then paused. “Is there anything else I can get for you instead? Tea? Biscuits?”

“No, Foster,” George replied, feeling a bit impatient. “I am in need of nothing at present.”

The old butler started on his way once more, but once again, he paused.“Forgive me for speaking out of turn, Your Grace,” he said, “but I have noticed in my duties as butler that Lady Walmsley’s visitor appears to be quite fatigued this afternoon, in mind as well as body.”

“And you felt the need to point this out to me?” George asked, taken aback by the old servant’s bravado in speaking to him in this manner. Whatwasit with old servants and their inclination to speak their minds? Foster was beginning to rank right up there with Talbot and Evans.

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