Page 9 of The Uncouth Duke of Longford
“Though I have forgotten your second daughter’s name,” he continued, as Bettina let out a squeak of embarrassment. “Forgive me. Might you remind me of it?”
Rachel blinked rapidly, her embarrassment beginning to fade as her mother hastily reintroduced Bettina again and reminded the Duke of Longford that she was not the second daughter but the first. At this, however, there came a dull, disinterested expression upon the Duke’s face and though he nodded, he turned his head away and permitted the conversation to turn to something else.
Rachel did not know what to think of this though she found her heart almost a little delighted at his consideration of her. It might not be genuine consideration, she supposed, for it could be that he was simply being practical and wished to recall Bettina’s name but, all the same, it had lifted her shame just a little. She looked to Miss Renfrew, seeing the same surprise reflected in her friend’s eyes though she gave a small shrug as though to say that she did not understand the reason behind the Duke’s remarks either. Letting out a small sigh, Rachel permitted a small smile to touch the corners of her mouth and as she lifted her head, found the Duke of Longford looking at her with those sharp, dark eyes. Her smile quickly faded and she pressed her lips tight together, unnerved by the scrutiny there.
He turned his head away thereafter and Rachel let out a long, slow breath and silently wondered just exactly who the Duke of Longford was… and how much of his true character he was hiding.
Chapter Four
Andrew shook his head to himself, scrunched up his paper and flung it into the fireplace. A note had come an hour earlier from Lady Carmichael, asking politely for where she might direct her letter to his mother and though he had responded – sending only the address rather than anything further – he had then felt rather guilty that he had not written to his own mother in some time. He had set to it at once though every time he did, every time he made to explain how he had been introduced to Lady Carmichael having already become acquainted with one of her daughters, he found his thoughts turning to the young lady and thereafter, his letter writing came to a sudden end.
It had been a very strange incident, he reflected, setting the quill down and choosing not to write for a time, in case that made matters easier. Lady Carmichael had stated how glad she was that he was now acquainted with her daughter but had not looked to Miss Rachel Grifford but rather to Miss Bettina Grifford, the one whose name he had pretended to have forgotten. He did not know why he had done such a thing as that – perhaps it had been the look on Miss Rachel Grifford’s face when she realized what her mother had done – but he had first of all corrected Lady Carmichael that he had been introduced to both young ladies and thereafter, had pretended to forget the second young lady’s name. Andrew could still see the shock which had written itself upon Lady Carmichael’s face and the red dots which had struck Miss Bettina Grifford’s expression, but he did not feel any regret for his deception. It had been very odd for the lady to ignore Miss Rachel Grifford, even though she was the daughter who had prepared the way for an introduction to him in the first place.
Though quite why I even noticed that and, thereafter, felt the need to say something to make Lady Carmichael aware of it, I do not know.
A knock came to the door and, a little relieved to be pulled out of his thoughts, Andrew acknowledged it with a call to enter. The butler came in and inclined his head. “Lord Wrexham, Your Grace.”
A little surprised, Andrew rose from his chair just as his friend came in. “Good afternoon, Wrexham. Is there any particular reason that you have come to call?”
Lord Wrexham lifted an eyebrow. “Must there be a reason for my coming to call upon a friend?”
Andrew blinked, his face flushing a little. “Forgive me, I only meant –”
Lord Wrexham chuckled and waved a hand. “Have no fear. I am only jesting. Yes, I do have a reason to call, even though we are to see each other at the ball this evening.” So saying, he sat down and then propped one leg up over the other, his ankle resting on his knee. “After yesterday’s conversation in the park,andat the soiree last evening – ”
“I barely spoke to anyone last evening!” Andrew interrupted, making Lord Wrexham’s eyebrow lift.
“Yes, that is precisely my point,” came the reply. “You are garnering a dark reputation and I am a little concerned about it.”
Andrew frowned. “A dark reputation?”
“Yes. You appear sullen, ill-tempered and unwilling to make even the smallest effort to talk to anyone.”
“I… I talked to Miss Grifford yesterday afternoon, at the park.”
“For only a few minutes and I must say, even I was surprised at what you said to Lady Carmichael! Not that it was untrue but all the same, I do not think that it was required.”
Andrew shrugged, having very little thought as to what other people thought of what he had said. “That does not mean that I am ill-tempered.”
“All the same,” Lord Wrexham said, a little more quietly, “you might consider what you are presenting to society. They have not seen you in London for some years and now when you return, you have a heaviness about you which pushes you back from people, which makes it appear as though you are entirely disinclined towards company.”
“I am a little disinclined towards company,” Andrew admitted, a slightly rueful smile at his lips. “There are some that I can tolerate, however.”
Lord Wrexham let out a sigh – a sigh which told Andrew that he was not particularly enamored with the jovial remark. “All the same, I truly do think that you ought to consider society’s view of you.”
“For what purpose?”
“Because… because you will never be able to find a young lady to marry you if you do not.”
Andrew immediately let out a snort. “But you know very well that I have no interest in marrying.”
“And yet, you shall have to one day.”
With a slight shrug, Andrew looked away. “I will arrange a marriage when the time comes.
“I do not require you to tell me what it is that I ought to do.” Andrew’s scowl began to pull at his features, only for his friend’s eyebrows to lift, reminding Andrew silently of all that had just been said about his demeanor and the like. “I appreciate your concern,” he continued, a little more quietly now. “But please, do not try to tell me what I ought to do. After the heavy darkness of living in my estate, knowing what I do, I would prefer no young lady be brought into that.”
“You are speaking of the death of your father.”
