Page 9 of Fit for a Duke
‘Nervous?’ He chuckled. ‘I find that very hard to believe.’
‘Well, you should believe it. You are a duke, in case you had forgotten.’
‘As if I could,’ he replied with a droll smile that made Clio wonder if he would prefer not to be. Most likely because his brothers had had to die in order to make way for him, which must have distressed him enormously, even if they had disliked one another. Clio didn’t have any siblings but her soft heart quailed for the situation that this rugged, confusing and contrary duke found himself in.
‘I have heard you spoken of in the most reverent and respectful terms for weeks now, so naturally I am terrified of you.’
‘Ha!’ He threw back his head and laughed.
‘Well anyway, you really must excuse me, your grace.’ She bobbed the suggestion of a curtsey. ‘Some of us must recall our duty, you know.’
‘You might want to do something about your hair before you enter the drawing room,’ he replied, chuckling.
He then offered her an elegant bow, whistled to his dog, stretched out his long legs and walked towards the house with his man at his side. Clio watched him go, already wondering if she had just imagined the entire exchange.
The interlude had made her late, and she rushed towards the house, entered by a side door and ran up to her room. Daisy wasn’t there, of course. She would not have expected to be needed again and would be below stairs, taking in all the bustle with interest and hoping, no doubt, to encounter Mr Godfrey. Clio wished now that she had taken more notice of the duke’s man so that she could decide whether or not he would make a suitable beau for Daisy. Unfortunately, she had found it impossible to look at anyone else when the duke was in the room, effortlessly dominating it with his authoritative presence.
No matter. Clio was perfectly capable of fixing her hair herself, or so she thought until she glanced in the mirror. And groaned.
‘Whatever must he have thought of me?’ she muttered.
Her hair looked like a bird’s nest, complete with a strand of straw adhering to one ear. How on earth had that got there? Perhaps she needed Daisy’s services after all, but decided against ringing for her since she would want to know how Clio had managed to get herself into such a state. It was a question that Clio wasn’t prepared to answer now.
Perhaps not ever.
She sat in front of the glass with a resigned sigh, removed a few pins and set to with the brush. She left the top part of her coiffure as it was, since it hadn’t suffered too badly, and left the long curls tumbling over her shoulders. It wasn’t terribly sophisticated, but no one would take any notice of her.
When she had repaired the damage, Clio took a moment to reflect, even though she was now horribly late. Away from the duke’s distracting presence she found it easier to think about what she had overheard. And she was perfectly sure that hehaddeliberately distracted her in the hope that she would forget the gist of his conversation with Mr Godfrey.
As if she could!
If he had intended to appear incapable of cold-blooded murder, he had succeeded better than he could possibly know. Clio had been captivated by an honourable, surprisingly down to earth and rather dissatisfied individual. Her opinion had not been affected in any way by his rugged good looks or lazy, persuasive charm, or because she wanted to believe in him. Of course it had not! She wasn’t quite that shallow.
Was she?
If he mentioned in passing to her aunt that their paths had already crossed then she would know that he was duplicitous. That would be the acid test, she decided. He had spared her a few minutes of his precious time to ensure that he had won her over, but wouldn’t leave anything to chance. If Clio retaliated by repeating what she had overheard, he would naturally deny it, and his man would back him up.
‘Very well,’ she told her reflection. ‘The situation calls for guile. There have to be some advantages to being a helpless, bird-brained female. If he doesn’t give me away then I shall believe in him. But I shall also watch him, and all the other gentlemen at this party. If I sense animosity then I will know who his intended victim is and find a way to warn him.’
Satisfied with a plan that would appease her conscience—she could not possibly allow her aunt’s party to be marred by something as distasteful as murder—she stood up, smoothed down her skirts and made her way downstairs. She smiled when she entered the room and saw Beth looking delicious in a froth of pale muslin, yet dissatisfied. Dissatisfied since her grand entrance would have been wasted.
The duke was not yet in the room.
Ezra and Merlin strode into the house in Godfrey’s wake, using the servants’ stairs. A plethora of footmen and maids carrying ewers and trays jumped out of his way, flattening themselves against walls as he took the stairs three at a time.
‘This way,’ Godfrey said, when they emerged on an opulent landing with doors on both sides.
Ezra wasn’t surprised when Godfrey stopped in front of the most ornate double doors and thrust them open. Ezra stepped into a suite that overlooked the rear garden and offered a view to the woodland beyond it. Stepping onto the balcony and craning his neck, Ezra could just see the tack room in the far distance and was surprised to discover that he would infinitely prefer to have still been there, exchanging spirited ripostes with the challenging Miss Benton.
‘What will you do about the chit, your grace?’ Godfrey asked, pouring hot water into a ewer and indicating with a significant glance at the clock and an impatient gesture that Ezra should get a move on.
Ezra knew he was right. He was being appallingly rude in keeping Lady Fletcher waiting simply because he could, knowing that no one would chastise him for his bad manners. He hated people who took advantage of their positions in order to do as they pleased—people like his father, who had been a prime example—and had no intention of falling into that pattern of behaviour.
Thus resolved he stripped off his shirt and breeches and attended to his ablutions. A glance in the mirror confirmed his fears about his hair.
‘Absolutely nothing, for the time being at any rate,’ Ezra said in response to Godfrey’s question.
‘She clearly misinterpreted what she overheard and is bound to tell someone.’
