Son of a Duke (2 page)

Not a muscle moved on Miss Quinton's face as she calmly replied, "Yes, indeed.
 
Brilliant is exactly the word I would have chosen as well."

Lady Lofton knew that to be as accurate a fact as the one in which she herself appeared to be the Queen of England.
 
Lady Gregenden was a dreadfully dull woman of even equally dull fortitude when it came to things such as entertaining.
 
The woman only got where she did on the arm of her husband.
 
But Miss Quinton was not one to face any sign of degradation.
 
Even if it was coming from a duchess.

"I see then."
 

For weeks now, she had been working to gain closer entry into this young woman's world, and the duchess liked to think she had been successful.
 
She tested her theory as she swirled the champagne in her glass, catching it with the light so that it reflected directly at Miss Quinton's eyes.

"Why are you doing that?" Miss Quinton asked, her voice never fluctuating from its low monotone cadence.
 

"To see if you flinch."
 

"Oh bother, you still have not given up on that?" her voice changed then, slightly softer and mischievous.
 
Something flashed in her eyes, and the duchess knew for a brief moment that she had relieved the housekeeper of some boredom, even if it was but a moment.
 

Then a great bloke of a gentleman smashed into her backside and sent the housekeeper careening directly at the duchess.
 
Caught off guard by the unexpected movement, Lady Lofton had not been prepared for the housekeeper to come falling toward her, and so she could do nothing to stop them both from falling directly into the Earl of Stryden.
 

The earl caught them both quite neatly, tipping the duchess back up gently with a quick grab but holding onto Miss Quinton's shoulders a slight touch longer than may have been appropriate.
 
The duchess doubted anyone else noticed the entire affair, but concern for the rest of the evening's plans at the forefront of her mind, she did a quick check of those around them.
 
They all looked ready to impale themselves with the nearest frond from one of the ghastly potted ferns that littered the room.
 
She returned her attention to the little scene playing out before her.

This was not at all a part of the plan, but neither had it been a part of the plan for Miss Quinton to leave her post.
 
If she were quick enough to improvise, surely Stryden was as well.

"Are you all right, Miss Quinton?" the Earl of Stryden asked the woman.
 

"Quite, thank you."
 
She was straightening the ties of her apron when the earl stepped behind her and very simply spun around the bloke who had knocked into her.
 

The startled man looked absolutely bewildered at the dark look on the earl's face.
 
Of course, the stupid man had to look up about a foot to see the look, which made it all the more intimidating.
 

"I believe you owe the lady an apology."
 
Stryden said, ever so softly and deadly.

And it reminded her that if anyone could sound deadly, it most certainly was the Earl of Stryden with his chiseled features, nearly black hair and piercing green eyes.
 
A much younger version of a man the duchess was happy to wake up next to every morning, and she could not help but smile.

The bloke stammered, "My apologies, your grace."
 
He bowed slightly toward Lady Lofton, shaking too much to bend any more than he did.
 

"Not that lady," the earl growled.
   

The man looked around him, his gaze moving swiftly past Miss Quinton as if she were not there.
 

Lady Lofton cleared her throat a little and batted her eyelashes at Miss Quinton just to give the man a hint.
 
He was up against Stryden, and well, he was definitely dim-witted, which meant he had a very large disadvantage.
 
The duchess had to help a little.
 
She was not that impolite.

Miss Quinton, however, remained quiet as ever looking straight ahead with her lips curving at the tips, jaw square and chin up.
 

The man stammered some more, "I do beg your pardon, my lord, but I do not see any other lady around whom I might have bumped."
 

Sweat was starting to pool along the ridge of his collar, streaming down to his intricately knotted cravat.
 
He was tugging nervously on the lapels of his jacket, leaving the fabric, an awful coral color, all wrinkled and stained with the cold sweat from his beefy palms.
 

"Miss Quinton nearly fell to the ground from your clumsiness.
 
I would not call that a bump."
 
Stryden stepped between the man and Miss Quinton before the bloke could form even a stammer.
 
"See that it does not happen again."
 

The duchess sipped her champagne in silent salute.
 
Stryden had the man simpering without even a threat of fatal violence to the man's bloated body.
 
Well done, indeed.

Stryden turned his back on the man and bent to look at Miss Quinton.
 

"I am terribly sorry about that, miss," he said, "Some members of the
ton
were simply born to their status and did not earn their titles.
 
Are you sure you are all right?"
 

She gave a quick nod.
 
"Yes, my lord, quite all right.
 
I do thank you for your trouble."
 

"It was no trouble."
 
He bowed to the duchess.
 
"Jane, I hope you are all right as well?"

"Fine, thanks, lad."
 
The duchess saw his lips tighten at that.
 
Oh, how she did love to call him lad still.

He smiled slightly before replying, "I assume you are having a lovely time tonight?"

"Oh yes, quite lovely.
 
Except for that fat-"

"Oh yes, I am sure there's something fat around that displeases you, Jane.
 
But let's not share it with the world, shall we?"

The duchess hid her smile as she sipped her champagne.
 
It was so fun to annoy the boy.
 

"I was not planning on telling the world, just you, Alec," she cocked her head and pursed her lips.

He laughed right in the duchess's face.
 
He was the only one who ever did.
 
Even her husband, the Duke of Lofton, would not laugh in her face.
 
Oh, she was sure there were many times when her dear husband would want to laugh in her face, but he never did.
 
Jane Black, the Duchess of Lofton, had a reputation that quelled laughter where it formed.
 

"Miss Quinton, the décor is quite lovely this evening.
 
You have outdone yourself yet again."
 
Alec smiled that smile that had made a thousand women swoon, often right into his bed.
 
But Miss Quinton did not flinch...again.
 
The chit was getting annoying herself.
 

"Thank you, my lord.
 
I am pleased you are enjoying your evening."
 

"Oh, I never said I was enjoying my evening.
 
Just your décor."
 

Miss Quinton actually wet her lips.
 
It was a habit Jane had observed.
 
The housekeeper did it when she was hiding a smile.
 
The Earl of Stryden had made her smile?
 
The duchess determined that she could probably safely die now, because she had most likely seen it all.
 

"Perhaps you will find more pleasure in the gaming rooms, my lord."
 
Miss Quinton pointed discreetly in the direction of the parlors that had been set up with tables of whist or some other such barbarous game.
 

Duchess Lofton gazed casually in the direction that Miss Quinton pointed and felt a slight start when she saw the Duke of Lofton had left his post by the card room door.
 
She quickly turned back to the conversation when she heard Stryden's voice again.

"Perhaps.
 
Unfortunately, I must do my civic duty and mingle in the society into which I was born."
 

He winked at her.
 

Oh, dear.
 
Jane should have warned him.
 
A wink might give Miss Quinton heart pains.
 
But Jane was certain she would not swoon.
 
She was not the type, really.
 

And then Miss Quinton smiled, and the duchess herself felt chest pains.
 
Given her delicate age of eight and fifty, she did begin to worry a bit.
 
But they soon passed when a screeching voice-
 
well,
screeching
really did not do it justice.
 
She thought of the sound that comes from running one's knife in the wrong direction against one's plate.
 
Yes, that was exactly the sound that was produced when this creature opened her mouth.
 

"Stryden!
 
You silly, silly man.
 
I have been looking every where for you," Lady Dendrigeshire squawked, jostling her enormous girth through the crowd to the poor Earl of Stryden.
 

Stryden turned his shoulder so only Miss Quinton could see his face.
 
And what he did then the duchess did not know, but it made Miss Quinton
blush
.
 
The damn chit blushed!
 
Jane snapped open her fan and started swinging it violently through the air.
 
It was not cooling her any, but she suddenly felt the need to release some recent onslaught of energy.
 

"May I have this dance, your grace?"
 

The sound of his voice sent a familiar shiver down her spine, and the duchess turned toward her husband.
 

Richard had not always been her husband, and seeing his smiling face in front of hers always brought a sharp pain of reality to her, a pain that made her infinitely happy that she could now be his wife.
 

"Well, I supposed it is a part of my lot for being wed to you, is it not?" she replied, and Richard smiled even more.
 

She moved her eyes in Miss Quinton's direction, indicating that she still had a part to play, but Lofton was already putting his arms about her and leading her toward the other dancing couples.
 
When they were safely out of ear shot, he spoke.
 

"Well done, your grace.
 
He's in."
 

His voice was low and brushed across her ear like velvet.
 
She shivered again.
 

"That quickly?"
 

"Of course, the War Office did not choose just anyone for this job."
 

"No, I suppose they did not," she said and allowed him to twirl her across the floor.

~

Eleanora stood for a moment by the refreshment table as she gathered her thoughts about her once more.
 
It was not everyday that she inadvertently mingled with duchesses and earls in quite such proximity in the middle of a ball.
 
And thank goodness it was not for she would never be able to keep such a close eye on the happenings about her if her attention were always so judiciously averted.
 
Especially by the Earl of Stryden.
 
She knew he was married even though she had never seen his wife, but she also knew that did not matter when it came to his seductive powers.
 
And for the first time that she could remember, Eleanora suddenly wondered what it would be like to be seduced by a man.
 
A real man.
 
A gentleman.
 

She physically shook her head in the middle of the crowded ballroom as if to shake the thought from her head.
 
The heat was clearly getting to her, and she would have to seek fresher air or risk collapsing on the spot.
 
She moved quickly then, sliding around the refreshment table and escaping through a door at the back of the ballroom.
 
Her sturdy shoes made no sound as she quickly moved below stairs, expertly dodging the footmen as they carried the trays of champagne above stairs.

It was a maze of hallways and staircases on this level of the house, and Eleanora moved quickly through them.
 
She knew Hawkins was likely to be in the kitchen if he were not above stairs where his energy could be put to good use.
 
Eleanora would speak to him about that tomorrow, but tonight it would do her no good to argue with the man.
 

She dodged a rather green footman who still carried his tray with two hands and rounded a corner to turn expertly out of the way of a rushing kitchen maid exclaiming something that sounded like the hen is on fire.
 
Eleanora did not spend a moment's worry on whether or not that was exactly what the maid had said for she trusted Cook to have everything under control.
 
Finally, Eleanora spun into the kitchen and stopped.
 

Hawkins hovered in the doorway on the other side of the room where another staircase lead up directly into the dining room where an elegant banquet table had been laid with the night's supper assortments.
 
There were to be plates of cold roast beef and ham, a radiant display of cheeses and rolls, and decadent savory pastries and sweetmeats for the guests to enjoy.
 
And Hawkins should have taken his place amongst the footmen in the room to ensure that the meal neatly progressed.
 
He should not have been below stairs worrying a hole in the floor with his concerned pacing.