Page 4 of One Night for Seduction
“I accept your terms,” he announced and pushed to his feet. Before either of his friends could add more fuel to the fire, Cole hurried toward the door.
Startled, Eastleigh jumped to his feet. “You didn’t finish your beer!”
“It’s my tavern,” Cole said over his shoulder as he shrugged back into his greatcoat and gloves. “I can have ale any time I please.”
“You ownhalfof the tavern,” Eastleigh called after him as Cole strode out the door.
Chapter 2
The chilly winter air was just as bracing this time around, but Cole barely registered the wind tugging the brim of his hat or the plumes of snow kicked up by passing horses. He swung himself into his waiting coach and directed his driver to the Middleton town house just outside Mayfair, part of a neatly kept terrace less than a mile from Cole’s home on Grosvenor Square.
A faint smile curved his lips as he strode up the front steps to the frozen iron knocker. When the Season was not in session, the thing Cole missed most was the sensation of beinguseful. Every moment in the House of Lords was dedicated to doing good works; to improving the lives of others.
Playing matchmaker to a wallflower did not perhaps compare to his work on the Bank of England Act or the Customs and Excise Act or Sykes’ Hydrometer Act, but Cole considered the pursuit of love and happiness as worthy a cause as any other measure.
In fact, he was hoping this exercise with the Middleton lass would prove good practice for when it came time to see his sister happily settled. For all her maddening ways, he loved Felicity dearly and hoped to see his sister in the sort of love match poets would wax lyrical about for centuries to come.
The door opened, revealing the ruddy cheeks of the Middleton family butler.
His eyes widened in recognition. “Your Grace.”
There was no need to present a calling card. Cole and Thaddeus had been firm friends ever since the Wicked Duke first opened its doors a decade ago. Although most of their meetings took place at the tavern, they had visited each other’s homes on occasion. It was always a pleasure.
“How do you do, Shaw?”
Cole was fairly certain dukes were notmeantto greet other peoples’ servants by name, but as he had spent more than half his life without the slightest indication he would someday inherit a title—much less a dukedom—this simple kindness was a long-ingrained habit he had no intention of breaking.
“Very well, Your Grace, thank you.” Shaw did not move aside. “I’m afraid Mr. Middleton is not at home.”
“As it happens, I have not come to call upon Thaddeus,” Cole answered with a smile. “Is Miss Middleton receiving callers?”
“I…” Shaw stumbled backward as if the request had quite literally bowled him over. “This call is for…MissMiddleton, Your Grace?”
Cole did his best to keep his smile in place, despite the tiny worm of doubt now wriggling in his stomach. He understood the young lady was considered a wallflower; understood that to date there had been no interested gentlemen, but Shaw’s unfeigned shock at such a simple request could lead a man to think Miss Middleton had never received a single caller at all.
Nonsense, Cole assured himself. “Wallflower” was not synonymous with “invisible.” Surely the lady hadsomefriends.
“Just so,” he said firmly. “I’ve come to call on Miss Middleton. Is the lady at home?”
“I…” Shaw’s hands fluttered like trapped birds. The bafflement on the butler’s face only grew more pronounced. “Do come in out of the cold. You’re familiar with the guest parlor. Please warm yourself by the fire while I check to see if… Miss Middleton is… receiving callers.”
It wasn’t until Cole stood before the front salon’s familiar crackling fire that he realized he was still wearing his coat and gloves, as if Shaw took it as a matter of course that even if Miss Middletonwasat home, she would not be receiving callers.
Even a duke.
Movement caught the corner of Cole’s eye and he turned to see a maid slip into the salon. Possibly sent to offer him some sort of refreshment as he waited but, given how the mission was unfolding thus far, more likely the girl was simply going about her normal routine. Shaw would return at any moment to inform Cole his mistress had no wish to make his acquaintance.
He gave a subtle nod to acknowledge the maid’s presence and moved out of her way to sit upon the edge of a sofa.
The maid tilted her head as if considering him, but the brim of her mobcap flopped too low for Cole to discern the direction of her gaze. Of course a servant wouldn’t be so ill-trained as to stare rudely at her master’s guests. Likely she was deciding between carrying on with her duties or returning later once the unexpected guest had gone.
“You’re one of Diana’s friends?” came the soft query.
Cole wasn’t certain what startled him more: confirmation that Diana Middleton did indeed have friends, or surprise that a maid would dare to address him directly.
Perhaps that was why his mouth answered automatically, “I’m here to see Miss Middleton, yes.”
Even that small evasion caused a ripple of discomfort beneath his skin. It was none of the maid’s business what the Duke of Colehaven was or was not up to, but Cole prided himself on being scrupulously honest in all his dealings, regardless of situation or class. Yet he could not bring himself to sayNo, I am not her friendaloud. Honesty was paramount, but so was honor, and he was not here to besmirch Miss Middleton’s.
