Page 20 of A Duke Makes a Deal
“Oh, thank heavens,” her mother said, breathing a sigh of relief as her eyes rolled up. “You can never be too sure with these people, my dear. They’ve absolutely no morals. I should know. I used to work for them.” Her mother shook her head. “Still, it is rather remarkable that the duke would come to offer his apologies.”
“I suppose,” Clara said, not seeing why it should be remarkable that a man who was in the wrong would apologize for it. “But it hardly matters.”
“Why is that?”
“Because I don’t plan on ever seeing the Duke of Combe again.”
Chapter Six
Anewspaper droppedunceremoniously on the table beside the leather club chair Silas occupied in the far back corner of his club, White’s. Gavin Winscombe, Silas’s oldest confidant and friend, sat next to him, his dark auburn hair falling over his forehead as he loomed over a map, studying it.
Silas, Gavin, and Derek had all attended Eton together, though the start of their friendship had been unusual. Gavin was an orphan, raised by an ancient aunt in Scotland who had brought him up alone after the tragic loss of his parents to a bout of scarlet fever. Gavin had taken ill as well, but he had survived, even though it had left him with weak lungs. When he reached school age, the other boys at Eton had singled him out for being different as children so often do.
Silas and Derek had happened upon Gavin and another student in an all-out brawl and had tried to separate them, when Gavin turned his frustrations on them. Soon the other student had disappeared, leaving the three fighting each other until they were eventually sent to the headmaster’s office, where he had demanded to know who had started the fight. None of them had been willing to inform against the others and thus had been compelled to suffer their punishments together. A bond had been formed then and for the remainder of their school years, the three had been inseparable.
Gavin was set to leave in a few weeks for a six-month tour of the continent and had made a point of meeting Silas that afternoon to discuss routes and people to visit while on his journey. He had just decided on stopping on the Greek island of Skopelos when the newspaper landed with a flourish on the table. Several men seated at tables nearby turned their heads to see who had tossed the publication.
Silas looked up and saw Derek Trembley’s serious face, standing over him. He was obviously waiting for Silas to react.
“Uh-oh,” Gavin said leaning back, a concerned look on his face. “What’s wrong?”
“Have you read this?” Derek asked, nodding to the newspaper.
Sighing, Silas leaned over the table and saw that it was folded open to display a gossip column, which held little interest for him. Leaning back, he glanced back at his friend.
“I see nothing worth discussing,” he said.
“‘Divorced Duke’s Deal,’” Derek said, taking a seat opposite of Silas and Gavin. “It’s all anyone is talking about.”
Silas peered past Derek to a group of young men that were speaking animatedly across the room. There was one man standing in front of a group of four others, using his hands to describe something or other. Another man with light hair and an easy smile turned just then and caught Silas’s eye. His grin instantly faded.
Clearing his throat, Silas turned away, trying to push down the beginning of his irrational panic. He knew logically that there was nothing to be anxious about, but his body reacted of its own accord. It seemed that even at White’s he couldn’t fully control his problem.
“What?” Gavin said, leaning forward to pick up the paper, reading the title. “They’re talking about the writer’s ghastly use of alliteration?”
“Yes, Winscombe, that,” Derek said sarcastically. “Not about the egregious bet placed at my home—”
“Your own fault for inviting Dilworth,” Gavin interrupted.
“—and the consequences thereafter,” he continued, appearing annoyed. He turned to Silas. “Now that poor Woodvine girl is getting raked over the coals for it.”
Silas glanced up, irritated.
“Why? She was the victim in all of it. I’d say she’s the only one in the whole mess who can claim to be blameless.”
“Perhaps, but it seems she had a bit of a falling out with Dilworth’s new fiancée.”
“His what?” Silas asked, picking the paper out of Gavin’s hand.
He read the horrendous article, detailing a very public scene that took place a few days earlier in Hyde Park. Miss Woodvine and some girl named Bettina Moppet had argued publicly while others watched. Supposedly, Miss Woodvine cried loudly and stomped her feet while Miss Moppet fainted from the entire ordeal.
Silas was suspicious. The entire article made Clara out to be some sort of wild, hysterical creature, even going so far as to call out her humble beginnings as the reason for her graceless outburst.
Silas didn’t think she was graceless. She could be somewhat proud and a bit annoying, but she hadn’t been hysterical. Hell, she had witnessed her fiancé use her as collateral and then had calmly told an entire room of peers that they should be ashamed of themselves before leaving without so much as a whimper.
Whoever the author of this article was, they obviously did not know Clara Woodvine. Silas suspected that someone had paid off the reporter to paint Clara in a bad light. But then why had the Divorced Duke title been used?
Reading further, the article went on to detail how Lord Dilworth had been bullied into making a deal with the devil himself, Combe, who had demanded Dilworth use his own fiancée to pay his gambling debts. Silas rolled his eyes. It was certain that this writer was in debt to Dilworth somehow, as it went on and on about Combe’s rumored treacherousness.
