Page 9 of The Best-Kept Secrets
“A pleasure to see you again, Mr. O’Doyle.” Duke had a lovely voice, deep and rich. Eve had always liked it, which she’d felt an odd thing. It was not something she’d ever thought about anyone else.
“And you, Mr. Seymour.” They shook hands. “If memory serves, you’ll have only just finished your time at Cambridge.”
Duke nodded slowly. “You have an impressive memory, sir.”
Father shrugged. “I’m pleased to hear at least something about me’s impressive.” Though Father laughed, Eve suspected he meant the observation more than he let on. Their reversal of fortunes, his struggle to provide for his family, and their tepid reception in London likely all weighed down his view of himself.
“I am certain, sir,” Duke said, “were I to ask your family, they could provide me with a list of impressive things about you.”
Eve wrapped her arms around her father. “We most certainly could,Athair.”
Father pulled them close once more, though he spoke to Duke. “These girls are precious to me, so you’ll not be surprised when I ask you who it is that’ll be looking after them on your journey to Surrey.”
Looking far from offended or annoyed by the request, Duke dipped his head once more. He then motioned subtly to the carriage. “My grandmother will be making the journey with us.”
His grandmother? Eve had not ever heard Duke speak of his grandmother.
Father, however, seemed truly impressed by the revelation, almost awed. “Your grandmother? Mrs. Margaret Seymour?”
“The very same.” Duke didn’t seem surprised that Father was a bit overawed. “I cannot imagine anyone would question the propriety of our upcoming journey with her among us.”
“Certainly not.” The only other time Eve had seen her father so amazed by the mention of another person was when Artemis had first taken Eve and Nia under her wing and, as a result, into the social orbit of the preeminent and infamous Duke of Kielder. Did that mean Duke’s grandmother was highly regarded or terrifying? Heavens, Eve hoped it was the former.
Duke checked his pocket watch. He rapped quickly on the carriage door before opening it. To his grandmother inside, he said, “It is time to make our way to the ship.”
From within, a very proper, very English-sounding voice said, “I do not care to be standing about in the cold.”
“You will bewalkingabout in the cold,” Duke said, his voice even and his tone one of equanimity. “Surely that must be an improvement.”
“Hardly.”
Eve exchanged glances with Nia. Their chaperone seemed in less-than-ideal spirits.
“Mr. O’Doyle is here with his daughters.”
For some reason, that declaration convinced his grandmother to step from the carriage. Duke helped her with a very masculine grace. His grandmother emerged with an air that leaned more toward aristocratic than merely mannerly.
She wore a flawless, thick reddingote in a deep shade of indigo, with intricate black embroidery details perfectly matched to her black gloves and tall, black bonnet with a large, curling feather in the same indigo as the coat. Artemis, an undisputed arbiter of fashion, would have approved of the ensemble.
Once the older lady had both feet on the ground, Duke pressed on with the matter at hand. “Grandmother, this is Mr. O’Doyle of Tulleyloch in Fingal, and his daughters, Miss O’Doyle and Miss Nia O’Doyle.” He then looked at Father, Eve, and Nia and said, “This is my grandmother, Mrs. Seymour of Dublin.”
Mrs. Seymour dipped her head a little—averylittle. Father answered with a deferential bow. Eve managed a curtsy without laughing, though it took effort. Nia appeared to be struggling in the same way. Overtly pompous displays had always struck them as entertainingly absurd.
The regalgrande dameeyed them both with an analyzing air. “Are they twins?” The question, Eve could only assume, was directed to the lady’s grandson.
Duke must have come to the same conclusion, as he was the one who answered. “They are not twins, and neither are they unable to answer questions.”
Mrs. Seymour’s lips pursed a bit before her expression relaxed and assumed a more civil set. She turned toward Duke. “I am allowing myself to be petulant again, I fear.”
While Duke didn’t smile, something in his eyes leaned a bit in that direction. “I have full faith in your impeccable gentility, Grandmother.”
The very picture of elegant etiquette, Mrs. Seymour addressed Father. “We will make certain your daughters arrive safely in Surrey.”
He dipped his head. “Thank you, Mrs. Seymour.”
“Sir,” Duke said, “would you be so good as to accompany my grandmother to the ship?”
“Of course.” Father offered the lady his arm, showing himself to be as versed in social decorum as any Society gentleman, no matter that they did not always give him credit for being so. The two of them walked slowly toward the waiting ship a few yards down the harbor.
