The same servant from earlier approached as Lucy and I left the drawing room. “A gentleman wishes a word, Miss Kilbrid.”
“Go see what he wants,” Lucy said, starting up the stairs. “I shall fetch your cloak and be down in a moment.”
“Thank you, Lucy. The gray wool should do well.” Following the servant into the foyer, I found James Roth waiting for me. Hell and furies! What have I done to deserve this today?
“Good day, Miss Kilbrid,” he said.
It took a great deal of effort not to glare at him outright. “You wish to speak with me, Mr. Roth?”
He nodded and the corners of his mouth twisted to a grin that looked like it had been borrowed from a rat. Or maybe a troll. “I have been charged by his grace, the Duke of Norland, to deliver a message to you.”
My stomach flipped over a split second before it dropped to the floor. “And what is this message?” I asked, miffed by the obvious tremble in my voice.
James handed me a note that bore a similar seal to Henry’s. Just bigger and more intimidating. “He wishes to invite you to dine at his home this Thursday eve.”
I stared at the note, making no attempt to open it. In truth, I doubted my fingers capable of completing the task at the moment.
“You look very pale, Miss Kilbrid,” James said, his voice thick with mock concern. “Do you wish me to call a servant?”
Setting my shoulders, I forced myself to meet his gaze. “There is no need, Mr. Roth. Please tell the duke his invitation has been most eagerly received and that I look forward to making his acquaintance.”
James’s trollish smile slipped a bit. “You are to arrive at seven sharp, and be aware that his grace has no patience for tardiness.” He leaned closer and lowered his voice. “I trust you can find the Fitzalan residence. If you get confused, it is the largest private home in London.”
A tirade of curses hit the back of my throat. I pushed them down, managing to keep my face in a rigid mask of civility. “I shall manage well enough, thank you, sir.”
James paused, and his eyes glinted with malice and judgment. “You will find the duke to be a shrewd man, Miss Kilbrid, and not easily taken in by a quick wit or a pretty face. Do not be surprised if he has seen through your guise before the end of the first course.”
His rudeness felt a slap to the face. Red haze trimmed my vision, and I clenched my hands to keep from striking him. Several long seconds passed before I could speak with any measure of calm. “Your concern is most appreciated, Mr. Roth. Though I do suppose if so shrewd a man has found even a scrap of goodness in someone as mean-spirited as yourself, he should have no trouble finding a plentitude in me.”
James sucked in a hard breath. “You impertinent little upstart—”
I flicked my hand impassively. “Yes, yes, Mr. Roth. I’ve heard it all before. Now if you don’t mind, I’ve a lecture to attend, and so must end this delightful conversation. I trust you can find the door. If you get confused, just remember that it is rather large and directly behind you.”
Rage pulled at James’s usually handsome features. A ruddy tinge crept over the top of his cravat, all the way to his flaxen hairline.
I watched him with wide-eyed concern and just a hint of a smirk. “Are you feeling unwell, sir? Do wish me to ring for a servant?”
His nostrils flared. Spinning on his heel, he marched to the door, nearly dislodging the iron hardware in his haste to wrench it open. When it slammed, I felt a rush of victory—right before I remembered the note still clenched in my hand, and what awaited me in three days’ time.
Chapter Thirteen
The Dragon
Nora did not return home until well past the supper hour. The time seemed to drag on for an eternity, each passing minute winding my nerves further. With Cate out for the evening and Lucy nursing a headache in her room, I sat alone in the front drawing room, thoughts churning as I stared blankly at the novel in my lap. The seconds ticked away on the mantel clock, and I soon found myself tapping in time against the open page.
What is the duke playing at?
This question had dominated my thoughts ever since the message arrived, courtesy of James Roth. Obviously, Richard Fitzalan, the Duke of Norland, wanted to meet me without interference from Henry, and so had contrived an errand to occupy his son for several days. Why then had similar invitations been extended to Nora, Lucy and Cate? If the duke wanted a private interview, a crowd of ladies seemed counterproductive to his purposes. Unless, his intentions were less nefarious than I first suspected. Perhaps the man just wanted to make the acquaintance of his future daughter-in-law. So, why the secretive behavior? Why had the duke sent Henry away ignorant of his plans?