Page 81 of The Duke Who Loved Me (The Duke's Estates 1)

He rose. “Until tomorrow,” he said. He held Cecelia’s gaze for a heart-stopping moment, and then he was gone.

Fifteen

James made certain that his party arrived well ahead of the start of the play the following evening. His goal was to be obvious to the entire audience. Cecelia looked lovely in a pale-rose gown with a spray of flowers twined in her blond hair. She appeared poised and serene. He didn’t think anyone would spot her anxiety. Lady Wilton was her usual imperturbably fashionable self. James dared anyone to challengeher. He was prepared to do social battle and to triumph this time. They settled in their box, ignoring the stares and whispers that rose around them.

“So now we must look carefree and chat,” said Cecelia. James heard strain in her tone.

“Indeed,” said Lady Wilton. “And I have a good deal to say.” She was clearly pleased to have James cornered for an entire evening. “Ferrington,” she added with a steely glint in her eye.

James held up a hand. “I have found an inquiry agent to set on his track. He wants a place to begin. What can you tell me about your lost earl? Where should I send this fellow first?”

“If I knew that, I would already have looked there,” replied his grandmother acerbically.

“Sent your enterprising footman perhaps?” asked James, unable to resist.

The old lady scowled.

“Smiles, Grandmamma,” said James. “Don’t forget.” Not that the entiretonwasn’t accustomed to Lady Wilton’s glowers.

“Insufferable boy,” she muttered. But she smiled for their observers.

“Could Ferrington have gone back to America?” asked Cecelia.

“America?” James had not thought to send anyone so far.

Lady Wilton snorted. “Of course he hasn’t. No one walks away from an earldom.”

“And yet he seems to have done so,” James pointed out.

“Unless something happened to him?” said Cecelia. “What if he was attacked by footpads?”

“All of his things and a horse I had purchased for his use disappeared with him,” said Lady Wilton. “Hardly the work of footpads.”

“So why and where has he gone?” James asked. “Let us begin at the beginning, Grandmamma. He was here in London.”

“The beginning is my daughter’s marriage to the earlier Earl of Ferrington,” Lady Wilton interrupted. “Sixty years ago.”

“Yes I know, but…”

“She had two sons,” Lady Wilton continued, in the tone of one reciting an oft-told tale. “An heir and a scapegrace instead of a spare. Ralph. We had to send him off to America before he was eighteen.”

“Had to?” echoed James. He felt a surge of pity for the lad. He saw the same emotion in the Cecelia’s eyes.

“He was intractable,” Lady Wilton went on. “Plunged into every vice from a scandalously early age. It was the best solution.”

“Until you needed him again,” murmured Cecelia.

James glanced at her.

Lady Wilton merely nodded. “Because my elder grandson got himself killed on the hunting field without producing an heir. So we had to go looking for Ralph.”

“You didn’t know what had become of him?” Cecelia sounded shocked.

“We heard he made a dreadful marriage. Years ago. After that…” The old woman made a brushing motion. “But we finally tracked down his son.”

“Ralph’s?” James had rather lost track of this proliferation of people.

“Yes, Tereford. Have you not been paying attention?” Lady Wilton bared her yellowed teeth in what might have appeared to be a smile, from a distance. “I had thisAmericanfetched. A shabby, rag-mannered fellow. Prone tolounging. Wished to be called Jack, if you please! But I informed him that I was willing to lick him into reasonable shape to fit his new position. Despite his dreadful mother. The next day, he was gone.”

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