Page 51 of An Innocent Maid for the Duke
‘A glass of champagne wouldn’t go amiss.’
Jake grinned. ‘Leave that to me.’
He strode off, looking every inch the nobleman. Utterly gorgeous. Rose hoped her face didn’t betray her thoughts. She fixed her gaze on her hands. The last thing she wanted to do was draw attention to her feelings about him. ‘Do you need your shawl, Your Grace? Out of the sun, you might find the breeze a little cool.’
‘Not at the moment, my dear, but thank you for your kind thought.’ She gestured with her cane at some ladies and gentlemen wandering around with what looked like mallets. ‘Have you ever played pall mall?’
‘I have not, Your Grace.’
‘You should try it. It is all kinds of fun.’
Rose frowned as one of the gentlemen put his hands around a lady to help guide her mallet as she swiped at the ball. Games. When did a maid have time for such games? Or an orphan for that matter?
The Duke returned with a waiter bearing several glasses. He handed one to Her Grace, then attempted to offer one to her. ‘No, thank you.’
‘Try it,’ Her Grace said with an encouraging smile. ‘You will find it refreshing.’
‘I prefer not,’ she said, surprised at the old lady’s warmth of tone.
‘Persuade her, Jacob,’ the old lady said.
Jake frowned. ‘Miss Nightingale must decide for herself.’ He sounded so aloof the chill of his voice sent a shiver down Rose’s back.
His grandmother frowned. ‘Jacob, really—’
He waved the waiter off as if he hadn’t heard. Of course he wouldn’t encourage his grandmother’s companion to indulge in strong spirits. It had been something they had complained about with regard to her predecessor. And as for his coldness in front of his grandmother, she was glad of it. The old lady saw too much. More than once she had asked Rose if she didn’t think her grandson a most handsome fellow.
He sipped at his drink, arranging himself beside his grandmother’s chair. Rose could not see his expression, but she could well imagine the aloof look on his face.
A few minutes later, the Marchioness bore down on them. With her was a young lady in a white sprig muslin. Glossy chestnut locks framed the girl’s oval-shaped face shaded by a wide-brimmed straw hat decorated with flowers. She looked lovely and fashionable. The trim on the hem of her gown, a festoon of lace held in scallops by pink silk roses, was gorgeous. The gown must have cost a fortune.
‘Your Grace, allow me to present my niece, Lady Alicia Pettigrew.’
The young lady curtsied deeply and batted her eyelashes at the Duke as she rose.
‘My lady,’ Jake said coolly.
Her lips curved in a friendly smile. ‘How lovely to meet you, again, Your Grace.’
She had a slight lisp and spoke in little more than a whisper.
He blinked as if trying to recall her. ‘Indeed. Delightful.’
‘This is my companion, Miss Rose Nightingale,’ Her Grace said into the uncomfortable pause.
The young lady nodded and Rose inclined her head in acknowledgement of the other’s superior status.
‘Lady Alicia is seeking a partner for a game of pall mall, Your Grace,’ the Marchioness said pointedly.
‘It would be my pleasure,’ the Duke said, looking anything but pleased. He hesitated, glancing briefly at her, then set down his glass and held out his arm to Lady Alicia. ‘Shall we?’
It took great effort not to show any emotion. Indeed, she was not sure what emotion it was that made it hard to breathe and had her stomach twisting. Gladness that he had not asked her to join them?
‘Don’t they make a lovely couple?’ the Marchioness cooed.
Her Grace pursed her lips. ‘You might say that.’
The Marchioness looked affronted. ‘I do indeed. And she is very well connected, you know. I hope you will excuse me, Your Grace, more guests are arriving.’ She bustled off.
