Page 57 of Finding Hope
“It was still a risk I would not have had her take. All I can say is, that if someone locked the door, then they are deliberatelyplaying with her mind, because it was unlocked when I tried it,” Max said with a shake of his head.
Westwood held a palm upward. “Faith thinks it for the best if we do not tell anyone. She was trying to convince Hope to come down to dinner and behave as though nothing has happened.”
Max disagreed. He wanted her kept out of harm’s way until he had personally questioned everyone in the household, with whatever means necessary to wring information out of them. He would ask Major Stuart and Captain Fielding to help with whatever techniques they’d learned in the army.
“The more unaffected she appears, the more it should draw our person out,” Westwood continued calmly, whilst Max’s blood was still simmering. Finding her shaking and scared brought out the protective beast within him, and he wanted to conquer all predators from ever harming her again. Max saw his mother approaching, and he unconsciously clenched his fists. She looked cold and rigid in dove grey, her frosty expression enhanced by the severity of her tight chignon.
“At ease, soldier,” Westwood said quietly next to him. “Do I stay for support or leave you?”
Westwood knew more than anyone of the Duchess’ unkind nature. He was the only one he’d confided in, as a fellow boarder, when she’d been particularly overbearing. Yet nothing compared to her behaviour with respect to his future bride. They bowed as she approached.
“Westwood, do your bride and her sister intend to join us for dinner?”
“They should be here momentarily, ma’am.”
Max watched his mother’s face closely. “Did Diana send you over here to enquire?” he asked, knowing it would irritate her that he’d reminded her of her place. She’d been desperately trying to prove she was still the hostess.
“I was referring to Miss Whitford’s accident the day prior. I did not know if she was indisposed.”
Max would like to think his mother had asked for charitable reasons, but more likely she was hoping her wound would fester.
“She is well, I thank you,” Westwood said. “Here they are now, your Grace. You may enquire after her health yourself.”
Max turned to see for himself if Hope evidenced any ill effects from her adventure, but she looked as radiant as ever. She wore a pale rose silk gown with delicate embroidery over the bodice and hem. She had even reduced the bandage around her head, which was discreetly covered by curls and a riband.
Lady Westwood and Miss Whitford sank into curtsies. “Your Grace, my lords,” they said, and Max noticed Hope stopped her gaze in the region of his neckcloth. Why would she not look at him? Knowing the Duchess’ shrewd eyes were watching every moment, he decided to hold nothing back.
“My mother was just enquiring after your health, Miss Whitford. Are you recovering well from your injury?”
Hope smiled with politeness and looked towards the Duchess, who, up close, was seething beneath the icy veneer.
“How kind of you, your Grace. As you can see, ’tis but a scratch, to borrow the phrase from Lord Rotham.”
“I was not aware the language of the stables was encouraged in your drawing room, Rotham,” the Duchess replied with icy scorn before deliberately turning her back on Hope.
They were saved by Gilford announcing dinner.
“May I have the pleasure of escorting you into dinner?” Max asked, loudly enough the Duchess could not but overhear.
He saw her spine stiffen in his periphery, but he did not give her the satisfaction of letting her show him her censure. How she would protest when she knew Hope was his choice! He would do everything in his power to shield his bride when the time came. First, however, they had to ferret out who was harassing her.
Max fully intended to show everyone exactly where Hope stood in his affections with actions, if not yet words. Words would come soon enough. But he knew he also had to prove himself to her first.
If there was surprise that he was escorting Miss Whitford into dinner, no one said anything, though he could sense his mother shooting daggers at him behind his back. He walked her towards the head of the table and pulled out the chair for her to be seated next to the Duke.
“What is this?” she whispered.
“His Grace has requested your company this evening.”
“But Rotham, it will only draw unwanted attention to me!” she protested in a quiet voice.
“Smile, my dear. This will show them you are protected by the Duke,” he said, as he gently sat her in the chair, then pushed it forward.
When the ladies were all seated, the men joined them. His father was looking a little fatigued, but he flashed Hope a wide smile. “Remind me to thank whoever made the seating arrangements tonight.” He winked at her.
Gus was on her other side and Lady Conway was directly across. Max was only three seats down and across the table, but he knew his brother and father would put her at ease. He avoided looking at the Duchess from the other end of the table. Her displeasure was palpable.
Diana had seated herself close to the Duchess, no doubt to try to defuse her ire, bless his sister. She had even asked the kitchens to prepare her Grace’s favourite dishes of crab bisque and lobster patties that night so there would be less to criticize.
