Page 74 of His Grace, the Duke
“Olivia!”
“Miss Harrow!”
Both ladies turned to see Mariah and Blanche crossing the grass towards them. Mariah’s bright red curls were loose under her bonnet, whipping in the wind as she hurried her steps. “This wind is murder,” Mariah panted with a laugh, flicking her curls away from her freckled face. “The duchess wishes to return now.”
“Hello, sir,” said Blanche, eyeing the captain with interest.
“Good morning, ladies,” he said with a smile.
Rosalie glanced from Olivia to the captain, waiting for the lady to remember herself. When Olivia stayed silent, Rosalie sighed. “Lady Mariah Swindon, Miss Blanche Oswald, this is Captain Hartington... Olivia’s friend.”
“We are not friends,” Olivia said at the same time the captain said, “Charmed.”
Hearing his name, both the young ladies gasped. Blanche lifted a gloved hand to her mouth. Mariah clung tighter to her arm and said in a rush, “Oh, but you must join, Captain Hartington. The duchess is hosting tea for the Marchioness of Marlborough, and I’m sure she’d be delighted if you joined as well—”
“Mariah, you cannot make invitations on behalf of the duchess,” Rosalie warned under her breath.
“Whyever not?” the girl laughed.
“Which duchess can you mean?” asked the captain.
“The Dowager Duchess of Norland,” Blanche replied, stillbatting her lashes at him. “We are all her particular guests for the autumn season.”
“The captain is far too busy to attend a lady’s tea party,” Olivia declared.
“The captain is famished, actually,” he replied, patting his trim stomach. “I’m sure nothing could hit the spot quite like a slice of fresh seed cake.”
The young ladies giggled, while Rosalie felt Olivia stiffen on her arm.
“Then let us lead the way,” Mariah cooed, pulling Blanche back in the direction of their group. They walked with a new spring in their step, the captain strolling at their side. Rosalie could only describe Olivia’s walk as a funeral march.
***
By the time they were all settled back at Corbin House, the drawing room was full with over twenty people—all eager lords and ladies on promenade who’d managed to snare the duchess’ attention. Tea was served, along with trays of finger sandwiches, egg quiches, and yes, seed cake.
On the walk home, Rosalie discovered more about the mysterious Captain William Hartington. Blanche and Mariah were all too eager to laugh at her expense when they learned of her ignorance and filled her in at once.
Captain Hartington was none other than the eldest son of the Fifth Duke of Devonshire. Rosalie knew that the Cavendish family was perhaps the most illustrious peerage in the land; however, she’d never heard of the captain, and for good reason. Like Burke, Captain Hartington was a bastard, his mother being a maid in the late duke’s household. But theduke had denied his son nothing, including giving him use of his own name and providing for him a surname in honor of his subsidiary title as Marquess of Hartington. As a bastard, Captain Hartington could have no claim on his father’s title. His younger half-brother assumed it last year upon their father’s death.
Rosalie learned from the captain himself that he’d joined the navy young and spent the better part of the last thirteen years on the far sides of the world. She was curious to know whether he was acquainted with Renley, but the other ladies had too eagerly snared all his attention for her to get another word in.
She watched with curiosity as he moved about the drawing room, making small talk with the other guests, giving all the right smiles and paying all the right compliments. He was clearly an expert at sailing these high-society waters. And yet, she couldn’t shake the feeling of him being an untamed wolf at heart.
Meanwhile, Olivia had retreated in on herself, doing her best to say nothing to the captain or even acknowledge him. But Rosalie saw the way her eye kept slipping over to him. She saw the way Olivia held too tightly to her cup and saucer, the way she chewed her bottom lip. Unless Rosalie was very much mistaken, Olivia Rutledge did not despise the captain as much as she let on. Rosalie didn’t know the details, but she was desperate to find out. Might this not be a possible solution to all their problems?
Before she could question the lady about it, a footman opened the drawing room door and announced, “Lord Darnley, Lord Seymour, Lieutenant Renley, and Mr. Corbin.”
“Ah, excellent timing,” said the duchess from her seat inthe middle of the room. “Let them come in, Finch,” she added with a wave of her hand.
Rosalie’s stomach flipped as she set her cup back on its saucer. Darnley and Seymour were two of the names on the top of their list of eligible bachelors. Apparently, Burke meant to try and shove them under Olivia’s nose today. His timing could not possibly have been worse. He was the first in the room, his eyes scanning quickly until they fell on her and he smiled. He made a move as if to come to her but was distracted when Captain Hartington launched to his feet and spun to face the door.
Renley was frozen in the open doorway, eyes wide. His look of shock quickly morphed into delight. “Hart—bloody hell—”
Captain Hartington barreled over, wrapping Renley in a tight embrace, nearly lifting him off his feet. The two sailors laughed, both talking at once as they cuffed each other’s shoulders, wholly oblivious to the presence of others in the room.
“When did this happen?” Renley cried, fingering the epaulets on Hartington’s shoulders.
“Eight months back,” the captain replied.
