Page 48 of Courting Scandal With The Duke
They searched out their hostess and Isabelle.
Isabelle gave her a speaking look and leaned forward. ‘If you ask him, will you let me know what he says?’
Inwardly, Barbara groaned. How on earth would she broach such a topic as that with the Duke?
Chapter Eight
Xavier perused the note from the tenant who had rented the small cottage in Chelsea that he and Perry had discussed. She thanked him for his kindnesses over the years and regretted that she could not renew her lease, but she intended to move in with family. She had been a nice old dear and he had often called in on her on his way to town to drop off the odd basket of apples or potatoes.
It was a shame she had left. It was difficult to find good tenants. With a sigh, he added the matter to the list of things to discuss with his man of business.
His butler scratched at the door and entered with a letter on a silver tray. ‘Hand delivered, Your Grace. The footman said it was urgent.’
It was from Mrs Simon, cancelling his engagement to drive Miss Simon in the park the next day. Apparently, Miss Simon had contracted measles from her younger brother, who had visited them the previous week. The family would be retiring to their home in Derbyshire until Miss Simon was well again. Mrs Simon hoped theDuke would not contract the disease and looked forward to renewing their acquaintance later in the Season.
Measles.
Had he had them?
He was pretty sure he recalled having spots at some point or other. Yes. He was positive, now he thought about it. He had measles when he was eight.
Poor Miss Simon. And now it seemed any prospect of an engagement, should that be his decision, would of necessity be delayed.
A feeling of lightness buoyed his spirits. As if some burden had been lifted from his shoulders. A sense of reprieve.
A disturbing response to a postponement of his plans.
He straightened his shoulders. He had decided it was time he settled down and he could procrastinate no longer. And so it would be. Miss Simon would return in two or three weeks and things would move forward.
Swiftly, he crafted a note to Mrs Simon expressing his regret and hoping for a speedy recovery for her daughter.
In the absence of Perry, who had gone on leave to visit his family, he would have to visit the florist himself to arrange for a bouquet of flowers to be sent to the afflicted damsel.
What of the Countess? Had she been informed? She had been in pretty close quarters with the young woman at the Simons’ open house the other day.
Mrs Simon’s note gave no indication that she had informedanyone else.
He penned a second note advising the Countess of Miss Simon’s illness. It looked impersonal, clinical, without emotion and rather officious.
Perhaps it would be preferable to deliver the information in person, during a casual conversation. He glanced at the clock. Far too early for morning calls.
He would go to his club and visit the Countess a little later, before she had a chance to set out on morning calls of her own, but not so early as to signal over-eagerness on his part.
Or perhaps he should simply assume Mrs Simon would have communicated with the Countess.
Damnation! He was dithering like a schoolboy hoping to catch a glimpse of the Latin master’s wife.
He called for his coat and hat. He needed some sensible male conversation about politics or farming or…anything.
On his way, he dropped in at the nearest florist, picked out a variety of hothouse flowers, wrote a suitable card to Miss Simon and stepped out into the street.
The day was cooler than it should be for this time of year, and black clouds threatened yet another downpour. The wind tugged at his hat forcing him to keep a hand on it as he strode down St James’s Street.
For a moment, he refused to believe what his eyes told him was true. A woman he recognised instantly as the Countess, standing in front of Boodle’s, waving. Did she not realise where she was?
He hurried to her side. ‘My Lady.’ He sounded breathless.
She turned gazed at him with an expression of surprise. ‘Your Grace. Imagine meeting you here.’
