Page 39 of Fit for a Duke
‘I cannot deny it,’ Beth replied, fixing her gaze on the toes peeping out from beneath her hem, ‘but Mama is set upon—’
‘Upon your marrying the duke. Is that what you want, Beth?’
‘Yes, of course…’ She let out a long breath. ‘Actually, no. He terrifies me and I have absolutely no idea what to say to him. Mr Adcock on the other hand…well, we talk and laugh and never run out of things to say to one another.’
‘Mr Adcock is entirely respectable—and, I am told, heir to a rich estate. I am sure that my aunt desires your happiness above everything else, so I cannot see how she can object to your liking him.’
‘I did try with the duke but…’
‘But he is a curmudgeon who didn’t take the trouble to put you at your ease.’
‘Oh no, Clio, he did try but I was not a very lively companion, I’m afraid. I was too aware of Mama’s instruction to be myself. You are younger than me but so much more confident. You would not have been similarly afflicted, I am absolutely sure of it.’
‘That situation is never likely to arise,’ Clio said briskly, telling herself that she had not tried to talk Beth out of pursuing the duke because she had ambitions of her own in that regard. She absolutely did not, and even if she did she would be the first to acknowledge their futility. It was simply a case of steering Beth’s thoughts away from amésallianceof epic proportions and more particularly convincing her cousin that she should put her own heart ahead of her mother’s plans for her. ‘Anyway, it looks as though dinner is about to be announced and your Mr Adcock, unless I mistake the matter, is about to offer you his arm. Accept it, my dear, and enjoy yourself.’
‘You know, Clio, I believe I shall.’
Clio smiled at Beth as she watched her walk away with Mr Adcock. Already they appeared to have a great deal to say to one another. She noticed Adele with Lord Fryer and belatedly realised that she had no escort of her own.
And Captain Salford was hovering like the predatory spider she had started to think of him as.
‘Damn!’ she muttered, adding a few of the choice words she had learned that afternoon while lingering outside the Royal Oak for good measure. She ought to have anticipated that a soldier would plot his strategy and outmanoeuvre her.
‘Clio,’ Salford said, bowing in front of her. ‘It seems that you and I are destined to dine together.’
She wanted to tell him that she would happily go in alone but could see Lady Fletcher watching them and would not for the world be openly impolite to one of her guests. So she placed her hand on the captain’s sleeve with as much good grace as she could muster, which was not a great deal, thinking that at least Adele and Beth would enjoy themselves. She glanced at the duke with Lady Walder on his arm, wondering if his choice was significant. He had told Clio that he had no interest in the lady, but if that was the case, why had he chosen to give quite the contrary impression by taking her in?
‘I understand your reticence,’ the captain said, having helped Clio with her chair and then settled in his own once the last of the ladies was seated, ‘and accept your disinclination for matrimony.’ He allowed a significant pause. ‘At least for now. I cannot guarantee that I will not renew my suit when you have had an opportunity to know me better. I can quite see that I rushed you. I misinterpreted your nature and your spirit…Anyway, my point is, we have to speak of something for the next few hours. It will look very odd if we do not.’
‘Appearances bother you?’ Clio asked, leaning away from him as a footman filled her glass. She thanked him, picked it up and took a small sip of crisp wine.
‘We are all slaves to social mores.’
‘Are we?’ Clio lifted one shoulder. ‘Personally, I dislike being predictable.’
‘You are very much like your father in that respect. He liked to play devil’s advocate when preparing battle strategy.’
‘The comparison is particularly apt, I think.’ Clio picked up her spoon and savoured a taste of her mock turtle soup. Her aunt’s French chef had, as always, excelled himself. ‘The social rigmarole could well be likened to preparation for battle, what with all the jockeying for the best position, which is not always on the moral high ground.’
‘You do not hold a high opinion of society?’
‘I have seen little of it, but when I come out next year I am sure that I shall be exposed to all its various delights.’
If Clio’s reference to her impending presentation reminded the captain of the futility of his pursuit, as was her intention, he gave no sign. Instead, he smiled and turned to his soup. ‘We shall see,’ he said ambiguously.
‘You shall not see, Captain,’ Clio replied, thinking it important that there be no ambiguity between them. ‘As far as I am aware, it is not you who will be making your curtsey to the queen.’
He looked a little discomposed by her acerbic tone but covered his reaction with another smile. ‘Now there’s a thought.’
Clio was grateful that Beth and Mr Adcock were seated beside her. Mr Adcock ensured that he gave her a good deal of his attention, as was his responsibility, forcing the captain to do likewise with the lady on his opposite side. Clio was thus spared the discomfort of the captain’s scrutiny for much of the meal. That in turn permitted her to send frequent glances Ezra’s way. Lady Walder was holding court, making all the men in her vicinity laugh at her anecdotes. Clio could see that Ezra’s smile was perfunctory and that he was having no better time of it than she herself was. He caught her watching him on one occasion and winked at her, causing Clio’s cheeks to warm.
‘I understand that Lady Walder’s late husband was an officer in Papa’s regiment,’ Clio said when the captain returned his attention to her.
‘He was, and a finer man never drew breath. His death was a tragedy.’
‘All deaths are tragedies.’
‘True, but Walder knew no fear and never asked anything of the men beneath his command that he himself was not prepared to tackle.’
