Page 27 of Tamed By a Duke
Dash it, he thought with sigh, throwing the ruined cloth onto the table. His valet, Purcell, would make a grand attempt to remove the stain, but even the diligent gentleman's gentleman would find it difficult to repair.
Hugh leaned back in his chair and stretched out his long legs; it was impossible to attend to any other business, he decided, when his mind was so distracted.
Thoughts of Charlotte had plagued him since he had departed from Ludgate Hill—though only after having a stern word with Mr Bridge about the discretion of his shop-boy. Why did a girl, whose father was one of the wealthiest men in England, need to pawn anything? Hugh had not forgotten Charlotte's attendance at that meeting of Republicans, and while he knew that she was no radical, he feared that she might have been persuaded by some unsavoury sort to lend money to their cause.
Protests of innocence would not work if she were ever to be discovered, and fear stabbed Hugh's gut as he imagined Charlotte being sentenced to swing from Tyburn's Tree for treason.
He needed to discover exactly what the impertinent Miss Drew was up to, though the only problem was that Hugh was not entirely certain Miss Drew would receive him after their earlier altercation.
As if to compound his fear, a knock came upon the door to the library, and the butler entered with Dubarry in tow.
"Gentle cousin." Hugh drawled in greeting, as the butler discreetly withdrew.
"Not so gentle today, I'm afraid," Dubarry replied, his voice shaking slightly with suppressed emotion, "I have just returned from a lesson with Miss Bianca, where I found her in a great state of distress. She reports that you were near brawling with Miss Drew outside Rundell and Bridge—what on earth were you doing, Penrith?"
Hugh was unaccustomed to his cousin speaking to him in such a forthright manner; Dubarry was usually deferential to his elder cousin, for he held Hugh in the highest of regard.
"I chanced upon Miss Drew making some silly mischief," Hugh replied, his tone defensive, "I merely upbraided her for risking any damage to her reputation."
"Upbraided, you say?" Dubarry ran a frustrated hand through his mop of blonde curls, "Translated from duke-speak that means that you must have torn through the girl in your usual high-handed manner."
"I did no such thing," Hugh protested, though deep-down he knew that he had.
"Of course you didn't," Dubarry's voice dripped with sarcasm, his eyes full of reproach, "I love you dearly, Penrith, but the way you deal with people can be overbearing. And worse, you will never admit to it."
A heavy silence filled the room as Dubarry finished saying his piece. Hugh felt a prickle of shame as he realised that his cousin was not only referencing his dealings with Miss Drew, he was referring to Leo too.
Shamefaced, Hugh cleared his throat—which had become remarkably dry—before he spoke again. "I admit that I was a tad high-handed earlier," he conceded slowly, the words a struggle for a man who was loath to admit any wrong, "I shall make an attempt to repair relations with Miss Drew, at once."
"My thanks," Dubarry replied, then he paused again.
Hugh could tell that his cousin was thinking hard upon what he might say next, and for a minute Hugh—a six-foot duke who owned half the land—felt momentarily frightened. Would Dubarry press further, and tell him to make repairs to his relationship with Leo?
Luckily, the young man did not give voice to Hugh's fears, perhaps realising that he had already stretched himself beyond his usual limits. He was a proud man, who could only be pushed so far.
"Well," Dubarry gave a nod, as he gathered himself together, "I'd best leave you to plan your apologies. Good-day, Penrith."
Hugh waited for his cousin to leave, before he poured himself a large glass of brandy. This he drank quickly, like a man who had been given water after weeks wandering the desert.
The fiery liquid calmed the turmoil within his belly, and Hugh felt himself relax. Any time that he thought upon what had transpired between himself and Leo, he was left with this queer feeling in his stomach that he could not identify. Which was why he tried not to think of it.
Glad for a distraction, Hugh began to ponder how he might convince Miss Drew to forgive him. Upon his desk lay the morning's paper and an advertisement for The Theatre Royal caught his eye.
Of course! Hugh grinned as he pulled the paper toward him and scanned the details; Miss Drew had already consented to attend the next showing of the Shakespeare season with him—she could hardly renege on the agreement. Not when there were witnesses to their verbal social contract.
With a lighter heart, Hugh dashed off an invitation to Charlotte, requesting her company for that evening's performance. As he sealed the letter with his wax stamp, doubt began to creep in.
Would she accept his peace offering? Hugh recalled the furious green eyes which had glared at him earlier and proudly told him to focus his attentions on another...
It was highly doubtful that Miss Drew would agree to go anywhere with him, he realised. So, just to be certain of her company, Hugh quickly wrote out another invitation, addressed to Brandon Drew.
You're being high-handed, a voice in his head warned, but Hugh ignored it. He was not being bossy, he was being practical, he just hoped that Miss Drew would see it that way...
To theton, the theatre was not just a place to view plays, but a place for oneself to be viewed. As Hugh pushed his way through the foyer of the opulent Theatre Royal, his senses were assailed by the colour, sound, and smell of the heaving crowd.
Bejewelled ladies in feathered turbans laughed gaily to each other, while dark-suited men, stinking of musk-oil, competed with each other to see who could be the loudest.
Hugh stifled a sigh; he detested a show, especially when—despite his reluctance—he was one of the stars. Heads turned in his direction, some discreet, some not, while whispers followed his every step. The curiosity was natural; given his title coupled with his status as a bachelor, Hugh was oft an object of interest. Tonight however, it grated, for Hugh was feeling rather vulnerable; what if Miss Drew was to reject his advances with an outward show of disinterest? Public humiliation was not something he sought, but more than that, he realised that he was nervous of losing Miss Drew.
