Page 31 of A Duke in the Rough

“I wanted to compliment you on your magnificent rendition. Such a touching song, wouldn’t you say, Ashton? Duchess? It was as if Merrick and Lady Honoria meant every word.”

Drake narrowed his eyes at Simon, willing him to read his thoughts and go to the devil.

Simon, per usual, ignored him. “You were saying something about success, Ashton.”

Worried he appeared rude, Drake turned back to the duke and duchess, the latter who continued to study him intently.

“I was telling Merrick that my wife enjoys dabbling in matchmaking, but without the greatest success.”

“Oh?” Simon said, shooting Drake an irritatingly superior glance. “Any prospects here that might result in a more favorable outcome?”

The duchess’s gaze flicked toward him. Then she turned her attention to Simon. “Word has it, sir, that you are seeking a bride yourself. At least that’s what the gossip rags say.”

Simon leaned in, grinning wickedly. “Have you selected someone for me, madam?”

“You seemed rather taken with Lady Honoria at supper last evening,” she said.

Drake’s insides burned. “Yes. You did, Your Grace.” Hopefully, only Simon detected the sarcasm imbuing the last two words.

“Sheislovely and has a voice of an angel. Once Merrick didn’t drown her out, that is.”

Drake wanted to plant his friend a facer. “She was nervous, Your Grace. I merely attempted to sing loudly enough to put her at ease. Perhaps you might think twice before volunteering people to sing for your enjoyment.”

Drat.The shock on the duchess’s face told him he had overstepped—at least as far as she was concerned, given the fact she thought Simon truly was the new duke. “Forgive me, Your Graces. I apologizefor my abruptness and ill manners. It’s simply that Simon and I have been on more equal footing until recently, and I sometimes forget my place.”

Ashton’s blond eyebrow quirked. “Simon?” He turned toward Simon. “I thought your Christian name was Pierce?”

Damnation!Drake shifted uncomfortably, darting a glance toward the door and a promise of escape before everything crumbled around his ears.

His fury at Simon eased ashis friendhurried to salvage Drake’s faux pas. “It is, Ashton. However, I was raised with the name Simon. My mother and stepfather thought to shield me from my grandfather’s rejection.”

Neither Ashton nor his wife appeared completely convinced. “Of course,” the duchess said. “It all must be difficult for you, becoming accustomed to a new name and a whole different life.”

Which reminded Drake about Aunt Kitty’s imminent arrival. He needed to speak with Simon and develop a strategy. But at the moment, he needed quiet more. “As I’ve put my foot in it enough for one afternoon, allow me to excuse myself to attend to some of the duke’s business.” He turned toward Simon. “When you have a free moment, Your Grace, there is a matter of importance we need to discuss. But it can wait while you attend to your guests.”

Ashton and the duchess murmured their assent. Drake didn’t wait for Simon’s permission, but hurried from the room. He’d barely made it through the doors when a male voice stopped him.

“Mr. Merrick, a word, if you please.”

Drake spun on his heel, ready to tell whoever it was he bloody well didn’t have time. He reeled in his anger at the sight of Ashton.

“Of course, Your Grace. Again, I apologize for my egregious behavior toward the duke. I spoke out of turn.”

Ashton waved it aside. “Not to worry. From my perspective, you had the right of it. Perhaps my wife is correct in her observations, and you are more familiar with Lady Honoria than one would imagine. She mentioned your father was the steward on Stratford’s estate in Somerset.”

“Stepfather.” Why did Drake feel the need to clarify that?

Ashton’s brows hitched. “But that’s not why I stopped you. I thought it best not to mention this within earshot of others, but I’ve written to Dr. Somersby about possible treatments for malaria.” He cocked his head. “Burwood mentioned it last night at supper. It’s none of my affair, but as a physician, I feel I must ask. Does one of you suffer from the ailment?”

Unrest twisted in Drake’s gut like a nest of vipers. Simon needed help, and he’d heard the duke ascribed to less barbaric and more scientific methods of treatment. Added to the fact that he’d established a free medical clinic for the poor of London, Drake believed him to be trustworthy. And if Simon spoke to him about it . . .

“I appreciate your discretion. We haven’t been back in England long, but I understand the scandal sheets would delight in such information.”

“Indeed. It’s the type of tasty morselThe Muckrakerwould love to chew on.” Ashton cocked his head. “So my suspicions are correct? One of you suffers?”

“My friend tries to put on a brave front, but I’ve seen him in the throes of the illness. Doctors have disagreed about its severity and ultimate outcome. But he has episodes of fever and weakness lasting for days. Then all appears to return to normal.”

“Hmm.” The duke rubbed his chin with his forefinger. “When was his last episode?”

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