Page 62 of To Defend a Damaged Duke
“I haven’t set eyes on Ben—His Grace—for quite some time,” Tommy said uneasily.“Any ideas, Lord Francis?”
“None, I’m afraid.”
“His Graceis precisely where he should be,” Isabella informed them.“Hidden away for the moment.And there’s no point quizzing Lord Francis because he wouldn’t have been able to resist sharing it with someone.Would you, Franny?”
“You know me too well, my love.”Francis surveyed the assembled throng, still smiling.“Now, if you’ll excuse me—oh!I do believe…look over there!Oh, good lord… Me?Is he pointing to me?Lord Ludham is beckoning me over.He’s s-smiling at me.I…oh…”
Isabella let out the sort of sanity-depleting squeal that would still be echoing around Tommy’s head by the same hour tomorrow.Francis looked stricken.“Do you…do you think he’s…?”
“Perhaps you should have a wander over there and find out,” Mr Angel suggested smoothly.“Lady Isabella, Mr L’Esquire, and I will continue to ply the worthy matrons with gossip whilst keeping an eye out for that devilish duke.And focus Lord Ludham’s mind.”
“You won’t find him,” Isabella trilled as Lord Francis fairly sprinted to Lord Ludham’s side.“His Grace has been kidnapped by Beatrice!It’s all part of the plan.”
Tommy never imagined a day would arrive when his entire fragile future rested in the delicate hands of a clutch of society ladies.Before he could fully absorb the precariousness, the deep, sonorousclangof a gong announced supper was served.Which gave him and Mr Angel plenty of leisure to refill their glasses.
“Nothing reinforces one’s lowly position in society as much as seating arrangements at supper,” observed Mr Angel as the diminutive Countess of Horton and her husband headed a hungry procession towards the dining room.He sipped calmly.“Don’t you find?”
“I suspect you and I will form the rear guard,” agreed Tommy.
As was the due of the highest-ranking lady in the room, the Earl of Horton abandoned his wife’s side to acquaint himself with the arm of the Dowager Marchioness of Cranborne.His own wife, the countess, hovered patiently behind to follow him in on the arm of the highest-ranking male.
Who didn’t appear.
One row behind her, in their correct placement, Rossingley was making small talk with the Countess of Ringwold.
Tommy registered the duke-sized gap, and his heart skipped a beat.“This should be amusing.Or horrific.One way or another.”
Mr Angel’s dark gaze flicked his way.“Indeed, L’Esquire.I do believe the play is about to begin.”
As an awkward, shuffling queue formed, the Countess of Horton rose to her toes to peer over the shoulders of her guests.She whispered something to her butler.Then, she looked back at the empty dining room, at the space beside her, and then back to her guests.
The highest-ranking gentleman was still missing.
A few long minutes ticked by, during which several members of staff were dispatched to locate the fourteenth duke.The hungry crowd was getting restless.
“Just waiting for His Grace,” the countess declared brightly to no one in particular.“I’m sure he’ll be along.”
Tommy wasn’t so certain.The look he exchanged with Mr Angel informed him that Mr Angel was of the same opinion.
Abandoning the marchioness, the elderly Earl of Horton marched stiffly back to his wife.“Where the devil is Ashington?”
“I haven’t the foggiest,” she answered.Her forehead creased into a little frown.
“He’s rather a rogue these days, is he not?”The earl pursed his lips.“If he’s busy swiving some chit, then he damned needs to hurry it along.The soup will be cooling.”
“So charming, the upper classes,” muttered Mr Angel.
“Should I be anxious?’Tommy queried under his breath.“He’s been missing for quite a while now.”
“Isabella reassures me not.”Which reassured Tommy not at all.
Resplendent in chartreuse silk, Rossingley stepped forward.“I may be utterly mistaken, of course, but I recall him mentioning something about the…ah…balcony?”
Tommy’s smirk was answered by that of Mr Angel.To those who knew Rossingley well, the hint of mischief in that helpful, innocent interruption was unmistakeable.
“The balcony, you say?”Lord Horton’s frown matched that of his wife.“It’s locked.”
A disturbance near the front of the gathering heralded Lord Lyndon, clumsily shoving aside some fellow guests to take his rightful position.Even in his inebriated state, as the brother of a duke, he was entitled to be there.Some poor woman would have to sit next to him during dinner; whoever she was, she had all of Tommy’s sympathies.
