Page 4 of A Duke's Temptation Poetess
A tense silence descended between them. Watford had the grace to look vaguely abashed. “I apologise. It was not my intention to upset you.”
And yet you described these comments of yours as ‘mildly upsetting.’Colin said nothing, though. He would accept Watford’s apology if that meant their conversation would turn elsewhere. Sometimes, a man had to know when to choose his battles.
“You are a good man,” Watford said, “and a competent Duke of Hartingdale. But you can be both of those things and still be a little rakish. Men have desires, and there is nothing shameful in indulging in them. You have said that often yourself. Still, I should not have continued the conversation once it became apparent that you were taking my comments so severely.”
Somehow, Watford’s apology still managed to make it sound as if Colin were at fault for their disagreement. He smiled tightly and inclined his head to indicate that he accepted the apology, even though Colin could not honestly say that all was forgiven.
Colin finished his drink and placed the glass on the table beside his jacket. He had hoped that hiding in the billiards room with Watford would be a good way to pass the evening without interacting with all those judgmental members of the ton, but it seemed as though he was quite mistaken in that regard.
“How have you been?” Watford asked. “I was surprised you did not seek me out the moment you returned.”
“Aunt Matilda asked that I join her at once,” Colin said. “I could not deny her.”
Watford nodded. “Indeed. I would not dare displease Lady Matilda,” he said dryly.
Colin smirked. His aunt was a gentle lady, but she could be fierce when she wanted. Watford still held a playful wariness towards her, gained from being a mischievous child who had often felt the weight of Aunt Matilda’s stares. She had a way of making one feel very ashamed.
“I owe her a great deal,” Colin reminded him. “Aunt Matilda practically raised me. Given her devotion to me, I think she deserves an equally devoted nephew.”
“She is a good woman,” Watford conceded.
She was more than good. Aunt Matilda had never been especially fond of Colin’s father. The disdain between the two of them ran so deep that Colin seldom saw them in the same place when he was a boy.
And yet, when his father and mother died, his aunt had not hesitated to take both himself and his elder sister Deborah into her care. Until he was a man himself, he had not really appreciated the full breadth of everything that his aunt had done for him and his sister. Sometimes, he regretted that.
He felt suddenly guilty that he was hiding in the billiards room and not in the ballroom with the others. Doubtlessly, the ton knew he had returned to London. He imagined they were gossiping about him and anticipating his appearance.
They would linger and circle his aunt like vultures. Every mother with every unwed daughter would be waiting for him to emerge from the billiards room in the hopes of winning his favour.
“My sister is planning a celebration for her birthday,” Colin said, having suddenly remembered. “She wrote inviting my aunt and me to Bath, so we might join her.”
“Ah, yes,” Watford said. “She has thirty years now, does she not?”
“Yes,” replied Colin with a fond smile. “White has begun to creep into her hair, and she swears that she will officially be old once her birthday has passed. Aunt Matilda disagrees, of course.”
As if their words had summoned her, his aunt Matilda entered the room. Colin and Watford hastened to stand and bowed to her. Matilda fixed them both with a look that was equally amused and vexed. “Gentlemen,” she said. “I thought I might find you here.”
“Am I so predictable?” Colin asked.
“No,” Aunt Matilda replied. “It is only that I know you very well. I thought that I might find you here because you always come here when you are brooding over some matter. Will you not join the rest in the ball? It is proving to be a lovely party.”
Colin sighed. Aunt Matilda sank into a chair, and Colin seated himself once more, just beside her. “You know that I detest such things,” Colin replied. “And I reminded you of that when you asked me to come here.”
“I do. I had only hoped that you would…” his aunt trailed off. “Are you certain that you do not at least wish to make an appearance before the evening ends? Even the briefest appearance would suffice. I would not expect you to stay longer than you like.”
Colin forced a smile. Inwardly, he groaned. He had known that Matilda would ask, but he had silently prayed that she would not. “Could you not inform your guests that I am ill?” he asked. “Or that I have been called away on business without warning?”
“I suppose I could,” Aunt Matilda replied, “but if I said that you were ill, that would only encourage them to ask after you. The ton would be desperate to know what it was that ailed you. They would recommend their physicians and insist on having you treated any number of ways.
And if I told them that you were called away on business, they would want to know when I could expect you to return. Do you not think, Your Grace, that it would be better to greet them? Give them a glimpse of you, so they are satisfied?”
Colin doubted that a single appearance would please those armies of overly ambitious mothers, determined to wed their daughters to a Duke. His aunt was right in one sense, though. If Aunt Matilda lied about him being ill or away on business, she would be the one who received all the inquiries of his health and whereabouts. It would be a vexation to her.
Besides, this was meant to be her ball, her event. The ton would not appreciate Aunt Matilda’s efforts because their thoughts were about him and his absence. Colin looked at his aunt, anticipating his answer.
Her face was soft and her brow furrowed with concern. As always, she thought of his needs first, and yet there was in her eyes a soft and silent plea.Will you not do this for me?she seemed to ask.
“I suppose I can make a quick appearance,” Colin said, standing.
