Page 37 of An Innocent Maid for the Duke
Thus she and Rose swept into Lady Spear’s drawing room together instead of Rose following at a discreet distance and remaining unnoticed. She’d been outmanoeuvred by a frail old lady with a will of iron. As she looked about her, she realised there were far more people in attendance than she had been given to expect.
A large-bosomed woman in deep purple hurried forward to greet them. ‘Your Grace.’ The woman curtsied. ‘You honour us.’
The Dowager Duchess accepted the homage without blinking an eye. ‘Dear Lady Spear, I would like to introduce my companion, Miss Nightingale. Rose, this is Lady Spear, our hostess. Miss Nightingale has kindly consented to join my household.’ She smiled fondly at Rose. ‘She is most helpful.’
In other words, she was held in esteem by Her Grace, so don’t be treating her badly.
Rose stilled. Apparently she was becoming adept at deciphering the politics of society manners, after all. But then she had good teachers in the Dowager Duchess and the Duke. If only she hadn’t messed it all up. She pushed off the feeling of impending doom. There was no sense in worrying about what could not be changed, she’d decided in the wakeful early hours of the morning. Practical advice she was having trouble following.
‘And how is His Grace?’ Lady Spear asked.
While her voice held sympathy there was a gleam of something less kind in her hazel eyes as she peered at the Dowager Duchess, who released Rose’s arm to make a careless gesture with her hand. ‘He’ll be along shortly, so you may ask him for yourself. He would have come with us, but urgent business delayed him.’
Rose swallowed her surprise. It was the first she’d heard of urgent business. Or was the old lady telling a fib?
Lady Spear’s eyes widened. ‘Oh, I—’ She visibly pulled herself together and beamed. ‘That is wonderful news. I will be honoured.’ Her tone turned a little sly. ‘It has been such an age since anyone has seen him.’
Rose found herself clenching her fist at the woman’s insincerity. Forcibly, she relaxed her fingers and once more took Her Grace’s arm. It trembled a little beneath her hand. Worry replaced irritation. ‘Perhaps you could find Her Grace a chair, Lady Spear,’ she said quietly but firmly.
‘Yes, Eloisa, do find me a chair,’ the old lady added imperiously and gave Rose a conspiratorial smile.
‘Oh, pardon me, Your Grace. Please, come this way.’ She led them to a group of other elderly ladies seated around a low table.
Having seen Her Grace settled, Rose took the wooden chair placed by a footman off to the side and a little behind Her Grace. She breathed a sigh of relief. Here in the corner, she could observe without being noticed, just as Her Grace had promised.
A dark-haired gentleman approached Her Grace and bowed. With a start, Rose recognised him. Mr Oliver Gregory.
Such a handsome man with his dark skin and startling green eyes. But nowhere near as handsome as Westmoor. Not in her eyes. Her heart gave a funny little skip.
Mr Gregory bowed with elegance when he reached their group, his brief smile encompassing all the ladies in the circle and somehow included Rose, too. How did he do that? ‘Ladies. I bid you all a pleasant day.’
The ladies murmured their greetings with much fluttering of fans and adjusting shawls. There was something odd about their reaction. As if they would prefer he had stayed away. All except Her Grace, who greeted him with a warm smile and an outstretched hand. He bowed over it. ‘Your Grace. How delightful to meet you here and with Miss Nightingale, too. A great pleasure.’
The other ladies turned to look at her. Exactly what she had hoped to avoid. Heat flashed to Rose’s cheeks. She stammered something in reply.
He bowed as befitting her station. ‘Are you quite well, Miss Nightingale?’ His eyes held concern.
Dash it all, her sleepless night must be showing. ‘Perfectly, I thank you, sir.’ She spoke a little more stiffly than she had intended, but once more he had drawn other gazes to her little corner.
He gazed down at her, with a slight frown. He leaned a little closer. ‘You know, it is the strangest thing. I keep thinking I have met you somewhere before our dinner the other evening, but it isn’t possible.’
Of course he’d seen her before. He’d often been in the room when she’d cleaned out the fireplace in the owners’ private parlour. All the owners had. Once, this man had kindly opened the door for her when she was struggling with her buckets and brushes. Guilt swept through her. How would he react if he knew who she really was? She clenched her hands in her lap. ‘The first time we were introduced was at dinner with Her Grace.’
His lips tightened as if he had noticed the subtle change in her answer, but to her relief he turned back to Her Grace. ‘It really is good to see you out and about again, Your Grace, isn’t it, ladies?’
The other ladies nodded and twittered their agreement. ‘I thought Westmoor was to accompany you? It was part of my reason for being here. I needed a word.’
‘He will be along shortly, I am sure,’ Her Grace said, sounding more haughty than was her usual wont with this gentleman.
Mr Oliver’s eyes narrowed a fraction, hinting at displeasure. ‘Unfortunately, I am unable to await his arrival. I have another appointment.’
‘It seems that you are fortunate, young man,’ Her Grace said, nodding at the door. ‘Here he is now.’
A gasp rippled around the room as the butler announced the Duke of Westmoor. Rose’s heart lifted and, as his gaze caught hers, she couldn’t help but smile.
‘Careful, Miss Nightingale,’ Mr Gregory said in a low voice right by her ear. ‘Smiles like that will start the gossips wondering.’
She blushed and looked up at him. His green eyes were dancing with amusement, but there was also a question there and that shadow of puzzlement.
