Page 137 of Ironvine

“They do indeed, Your Grace.”

“And that location is a gateway to the yet untouched Americas.”

“Beyond those nasty former colonies, eh?” smirked Charles.

“It’s a whole damned continent of yet unexplored natural wonders,” said the Duke.

“Unexplored or unexploited?” asked Georgina.

Every guest at the table turned to stare at her, and she stiffened her back. Charles’s features remained unreadable except for a slight twitch of his lips and a quirk of an eyebrow.

“Excellent point, Countess,” said the Duchess, raising her glass in Georgina’s direction. The rest of the guests looked away then, but the Duke’s gaze lingered on her, and a cool smile took its time razoring over his lips. From across the long table, she could feel his scrutiny of her as if it were a physical thing. A thing she could not translate. Her shoes pressed into the floor, and her back straightened even more than it already was.

The Duke turned back to Brandon. “Graven, now would be a very, very good time to sell your shares if you are so inclined.”

“In fact, I have already.” Brandon wiped his hands on a cloth. “It happened quite quickly. I was most fortunate.”

“Well done,” remarked Charles.

“Indeed,” said the Duke. “If you’re looking for a new investment, I can assure you that India is the future.”

“I agree with you, Your Grace, I believe it is.” Brandon folded the cloth into quarters. “But I would prefer this time to not look so far away from home.”

“Nothing like surviving a fatal shipwreck to alter one’s frame of mind forever, eh?” said Charles.

“Did you, really?” asked the Duchess.

“I did. On the passage home from Jamaica. It was a tragedy that, in the end, gave me back my life in a new and most…unexpected way.” Brandon’s gaze found his wife’s, and she raised her glass to him as he drank the last of his wine, winking at her.

Justine rose. “Gentleman, we shall take our leave of you.”

At last.

Out in the great hall, several of the ladies lingered, waiting for their hostess to lead them to the drawing room. Aunt Vivian and Alice detained Georgina for a moment, but as she answered their queries, she spotted the Duchess looking about the house, taking in all the old-style Jacobean accents.

“Forgive me, Alice, I must have a word with Her Grace.” Georgina’s heart thudded in her chest as the Duchess made her way toward the staircase, her gaze traveling up, landing on the family portraits.

Speak, Lady Caroline, speak, roared through Georgina’s brain.

The Duchess stilled, her body stiffened. She’d seen the painting. Georgina bit her lip as the Duchess climbed the steps and stopped on the landing before Lady Caroline’s portrait. A hand going to her throat, her lips parting.

Yes.A thousand sparks flooded Georgina’s veins as she moved toward Her Grace, but a hand gripped her arm firmly, stopping her.

“There you are, my lovely girl.”

That voice. She turned and met those shining, penetrating light coloured eyes. Her flesh chilled.

The Duke.

ChapterFifty-Nine

Georgina

“Your Grace?”She smiled at him, her eyes darting to where his wife stood before the portrait of Lady Caroline. Justine joined the Duchess before the painting.Thank you, Lord!

“Countess. My wife tells me she’s invited you and the Earl to visit us at our estate in the north. We eagerly await you.”

She shifted her weight under his piercing gaze. This close, he was even more alluring a person. Was it the way he looked at her—as if all his senses were taking her in and calculating? As if he were about to strike or pounce or swallow her whole.

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