One look from the duke, and I knew the reckoning had begun. The intensity of his pale blue stare seemed to hold supernatural powers, searching my soul while offering nothing in return. My pulse quickened, and cold sweat coated my palms as I waited for him to speak. Would it be kindness or arrogance from the man destined to be my father-in-law? And did I have the fortitude to bite my tongue if he said something particularly nasty? After Cate’s warning, it seemed I had better keep my temper in check or risk exposing the dragon, and in turn, making matters worse for Henry.
I squared my shoulders, ready for just about anything when the duke surprised me by shifting his attention to Lucy. “I’ve heard much praise of you, Lucy Goodwin, and your daughter Nora.” He glanced toward the French doors. “Is she not joining us this evening? I hope she hasn’t fallen ill. Our London vapors can be hard on those accustomed to fresher air.”
Lucy gave him a pleasant smile. “I thank you, Richard Fitzalan, but Nora has no complaints to her health. She was kept away tonight due to a prior engagement with Margaret Fox. Perhaps you are familiar with the name and its significance to the Quakers?”
Jealousy pinched my heart and my mouth tightened to a straight line. Over the past three days, I had become all too familiar with Margaret’s name since Lucy spoke of little else. Not that I had met the lady, or even seen Nora again following our conversation on the stairs. Anxious to confront her about the lie, I was greatly disappointed when a note arrived yesterday, requesting permission for Nora to stay the night at the Fox home so the ladies could continue undisturbed in their labor for the poor. Or some such rubbish.
“Ah, yes,” the duke replied. “Mr. Roth has taken an interest in the Quakers, and has seen to educating me on your history and simple ways. He is joining us for supper, though I dare say he will be most aggrieved by Nora’s absence.”
Just the mention of that man’s name soured my temper. Supper, indeed! I could think of nothing more gratifying than sticking a salad fork in his—
“And you, Miss Kilbrid,” the duke said, jolting me from my reverie. “Our acquaintance is long overdue. My son seemed intent on keeping us apart for fear that I could not behave properly. I hope you find him mistaken.” His expression and manner showed every sign of pleasantness, but those eyes—they seemed capable of turning me inside out.
By sheer self-will, I managed not to look away. “Thank you, Your Grace. I’m sure I shall have no reason to complain.”
His eyes creased with amusement and a soft rumble sounded in his chest. “It is a pity that Henry is not here tonight, for I believe we are destined to be great friends.”
The duke remained the picture of congeniality throughout supper, and with each course, I grew more relaxed in his company. Only the presence of Mr. Roth kept me from proclaiming it a perfect success. As he sat to my left on the opposite side of the table, I could almost imagine him gone while the duke kept up a series of questions regarding the Colonies. For all his bluster the other day, James appeared rather subdued this evening. The condescending smirk he saved especially for me had turned into a sullen frown upon learning of Nora’s absence. Over the duration of the meal, his mood darkened further, no doubt, due to the duke’s obvious favor for me. What little James contributed to the conversation in the beginning, tapered to a brooding silence by the time dessert arrived.
When the forks came to a final rest, the duke drained the last of his wine and stood. “Why don’t we continue in the drawing room? Mr. Roth, please show the women through.”
James gave a sharp bow. “As you wish, Your Grace.”
We filed from the dining room, James in front, followed by Lucy and Cate. The duke and I went last, our pace hindered by his limp. “Are you unwell, Your Grace?” I asked, noticing that he walked markedly slower than when we first went into the dining room.
The duke came to a stop and placed a restraining hand on my arm. “Well enough,” he said, watching as the ladies disappeared around a corner. Then opening a door, he gestured for me to follow. “This way, Miss Kilbrid, if you please. I wish a private word before we join the others.” Though pleasant, his tone brokered no refusal.
I went without protest, down another corridor and into a room that looked to be the duke’s private study. A newly-set fire burned in the hearth, and a crystal wine decanter and pair of glasses rested on the desk as though in expectation of our arrival.
The duke pulled out a chair and motioned for me to sit. “Thank you for joining me,” he said, taking the seat on the opposite side of the desk. His eyes went to the crystal decanter. “Would you care for wine?”
“No, thank you, Your Grace.” The two glasses at supper already exceeded my usual limit, and under the present circumstances, I felt a strong need to keep my wits about me.
I watched in silence while he poured one for himself. Returning the decanter to the desk, he then reached for the glass, only to stop in mid-motion. Pain shadowed his face as he pulled his hand back and pressed it directly over his heart.
“Are you feeling unwell, Your Grace,” I asked for a second time. “Shall I fetch a servant?”
He gave a faint smile and shook his head. “No need. A bout of indigestion is all. The pain will soon pass.”