Page 63 of A Duke in the Rough

Honoria stared, dumfounded. “In truth?”

Lady Gryffin’s countering cackle had Honoria’s face heating. “My nephew told me you like to read. He sets great store by you.” She shook a bony finger at Honoria. “But there is some truth in what I said. I can’t explain it, but I get a feeling about people.” Her gaze turned serious. “And I’m rarely wrong.”

Honoria took a seat in the opposite chair, completely forgetting about her search for another book. Lady Gryffin fascinated her. “And Burwood—your nephew? I gather this is the first you’ve met him. How do you find him?”

“I would say he is a rare sort in the aristocracy. Serious, loyal, honorable. Perhaps the last to a fault. Even going against what is in his best interest for the sake of duty.”

Burwood?Although Honoria liked the duke very much, he had an air of whimsy about him that had led her to believe he rarely took anything too seriously. And she never would have imagined he would sacrifice his own happiness for duty. Perhaps she had misjudged him.

Or cataracts blinded Lady Gryffin’sinner eye.

“He fancies you, you know.” The countess’s words pulled her back. “And in my opinion, you would make a fine duchess. Much better than some ninnyhammer who tries to jump a stubborn horse.”

That settled it. The old woman was definitely confused. “It is Mr. Merrick who has formed an attachment with Miss Weatherby, Countess. Not Burwood.”

The old woman simply smiled. “I understand the doctors expect her to make a full recovery. Perhaps when her mind isn’t scrambled, she will see the folly of such a match.”

Oddly, Honoria felt the urge to defend both Drake and Anne. “Any woman should be overjoyed to make a match with Mr. Merrick. Anne is wise to see his worth.”

“Ah, I see I have besmirched your friend’s good name in your eyes, and for that, I apologize. As an old woman, I have grown accustomed to speaking my mind.” Her lined faced split into a smile again. “But that doesn’t mean I’m wrong. They are not suited for one another.”

On that, Honoria agreed. But it was neither her nor the countess’s place to make that determination.

“As much as I enjoy chatting with you, if you would help me up, it is time for my morning constitutional.”

Honoria rose, then grasped the old woman’s upper arm, finding she didn’t need to exert much effort to lift the countess from her seat. Honoria suspected she would have managed fine on her own.

After straightening her gown, Lady Gryffin said, “If you came looking for a book, I believe this is the one you were missing.” She tapped a book on the table.

By the time Honoria had picked up the book, which was in fact the copy ofPersuasion, Lady Gryffin had quit the room.

What a strange old woman.

Honoria rather liked her.

When she sat to read, the pages of the book fell open, revealing a small blue flower pressed between the pages. Her gaze darted down to the words Captain Wentworth had written to Anne Elliot.

I am half agony, half hope.

With tenacious claws, she clung to the words like a lifeline.

The dreary moodin the house lifted when word spread about Anne’s recovery. Everyone’s spirit seemed buoyed—except Drake’s. The next day, when Anne came down to the drawing room where everyone had gathered, all fresh-faced and bubbly, Drake forced a smile and strode to her side.

“Are you certain you should be up, Miss Weatherby?”

The touch of her hand on his sleeve didn’t evoke the same sensations as Honoria’s had. “Call me Anne. I think it’s safe to dispense with formalities. At least when we’re out of earshot of others, don’t you?”

His cheeks hurt from maintaining the smile. “As you wish. You may call me Drake.” He escorted her to a chair and made sure she was comfortable.

“I thought I would go mad if I stayed in that bed one moment longer. How people can be invalids is beyond me.”

Drake blinked at her statement, finding it a mite uncaring. “I doubt, given a choice, they would choose such a state, Anne.”

Her blue eyes widened. “Oh! I didn’t mean it that way. I’m always saying things I shouldn’t. Of course they can’t help it. I only meant it must be horrible for them.”

Relieved—a little—Drake nodded. Honoria would never say anything so unfeeling. But perhaps it was Anne’s youth—which led him to ask, “Forgive my impertinent question. But might I enquire as to your age?”

“Two-and-twenty, sir. But I’m told I appear much younger.”

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