Page 11 of Let Me Be Your Hero
Archibald waved this off. “There’s not. Or wait—yes. There is something you can do.”
The duke leaned forward. “Name it.”
“You are very”—he waved a hand, searching for the right word—“influential. Fashionable. Popular.”
Trevissick inclined his head regally. “I will not belabor the conversation with false modesty.”
“I don’t care about all that rot. But my parents do. So, if you could… I don’t know… invite them to one of your parties, or speak to them in public, or something like that, I know it would mean a great deal to them.”
The duke nodded crisply. “Consider it done.” He rose to his feet. “Now, if you will excuse me…”
Archibald waved a hand. “Go on. Get back to your new bride.”
After Trevissick left, Archibald sat in his chair, staring at the wall. He wasn’t sure it was a good idea for him to go back down to the forge, which was full of hot furnaces, sharp tools, and heavy machinery, in his distracted state.
That evening, he was to attend Lady Waldegrave’s ball. Archibald lived in London year-round, as the family business was located just north of town. But for most members of theton, this would be the last hurrah of the Season.
He knew for a fact that the Astleys were planning on leaving town tomorrow to spend the winter at their country estate in Gloucestershire.
This meant two things: one, that he would see Lady Isabella tonight.
And two, that this was the last time he would see her for some months.
He was unsure how he should behave tonight. Were they friends now? Would she expect him to come over and greet her, to ask her for a dance?
That felt a bit presumptuous. She had approached him out of desperation last night. He didn’t want to make her feel uncomfortable, or, God forbid, to give the impression that he felt entitled to a repeat performance of their kiss.
He decided he would follow her lead. He certainly wasn’t going to cut her. But nor was he going to approach her. If shewished, she could be the one to come up to him. That way, she wouldn’t feel cornered.
God. His palms were sweating already, and it was four hours before the party even began. This was a disaster in the making.
CHAPTER 6
“Ooh—could you pull over up here?” Izzie’s twin sister, Lucy, asked the coachman. “I think I see some ducks!”
They were in Hyde Park, taking some autumn air along with their particular friend, Lady Diana Latimer. Their chaperone was Diana’s great-aunt Griselda, who was somehow managing to sleep, chin against her chest, while they bumped along in one of the Latimer family’s landaus, an open-topped carriage perfect for a leisurely afternoon drive. The three girls took the basket of bread Lucy had brought and headed for the banks of the Serpentine, leaving Lady Griselda napping in the carriage.
It was a lovely afternoon, cool but clear, and Diana had been eager to get out of the house. Her older brother, the Duke of Trevissick, had married Cecilia Chenoweth last night, and although Diana was pleased to have a new sister-in-law, there were some aspects of the match she was not precisely enjoying.
“I had no idea the walls were so thin,” she muttered. “I requested that a bedroom be made up for me in the east wing. That way I might be able to getsomesleep.”
“What sort of sounds are they making?” Lucy asked, her voice full of curiosity.
“All sorts,” Diana said. “Groaning. Screaming. Thumping.”
“I heard some of that in the dark walks,” Izzie said. At Diana and Lucy’s startled looks, she added, “It would seem that people go to the dark walks not in search of romance so much as”—she cleared her throat—“a place to fornicate.”
Lucy looked horrified. “But you didn’t see any of that. Did you, Izzie?”
“No. It was very dark, so I saw nothing of the act itself, thank God. Although…” She lowered her voice to a murmur, even though the two footmen who had accompanied them were hovering at a discreet distance. “You’ll never believe who I saw engaging the services of a prostitute. It was Andrew Milner!”
Diana recoiled. “The M.P.?”
Izzie nodded. “The very one.”
Diana shook her head, her expression one of disgust. “What a hypocrite. I know some husbands and wives have that kind of arrangement. But Mr. Milner presents himself as a paragon of…”
She trailed off, frowning, raising her hand to shade her eyes as she stared across the expanse of lawn behind them.
