One Dance with a Duke (Stud Club #1)(82)

As they crossed into Oxfordshire on the third morning, Amelia perked up. She’d written to her second cousin, now styled Lady Grantham, and arranged for the party to break their journey at Grantham Lodge. Amelia had never been particularly close to Venetia, nor even particularly fond of her. But she did keep a lovely home in Town and had a rapacious taste for the society of nobility, so Amelia had hopes for warm hospitality.

The sun was still high in the sky when Grantham Lodge came into view. It was a friendly looking manor house, quite modern in its architecture. The shallow reflecting pool before the house provided a mirror image of the white façade and its many glazed windows. A swan or two paddled idly about. Sir Russell must be doing rather well for himself, Amelia mused. But then, the Granthams had always been an ambitious couple.

The carriages rolled to a halt in the drive. When she and Claudia alighted, Sir Russell and Lady Grantham were waiting to greet them. Venetia wore apricot silk and that same strange, thin smile Amelia remembered. Her cousin had elaborate theories about too-wide smiles causing premature wrinkles. Amelia thought she would rather look wrinkled and happy than smooth-skinned and camphorized.

“Amelia, dear child. It’s been far too long.”

It had barely been two months by Amelia’s counting, but she embraced her cousin and accepted a kiss on the cheek.

“Oh!” the lady gasped and gave a little laugh. “But I must call you Your Grace now, mustn’t I?”

“Of course not,” Amelia assured her. “We are family.” Internally, though, she couldn’t help but wonder if Lady Grantham’s slip were truly an accident. Was she destined never to be recognized as a duchess? Always taken for some impoverished relation or lady’s maid?

She introduced Claudia, whose ill pallor provided a convenient excuse for her usual withdrawn demeanor. Soon Spencer joined the group, having dismounted and passed his reins to a waiting groom.

“Your Grace,” Lady Grantham said, dropping a graceful curtsy. “We are honored to welcome you to Grantham Lodge.”

No one ever mistook Spencer for anything less than a duke. Well, and why would they? He looked magnificent, as always. Tall, handsome, noble, perfect, and only improved by a day spent in the sun. He acquitted himself as well as could be expected in the introductions, which was to say he nodded curtly and refrained from making any outright rude remarks.

“Do come inside.” Sir Russell’s waistcoat could barely contain his excitement as he made a beneficent sweep of his arm.

Venetia cozied up to Amelia, taking her arm as they followed the men toward the door. “It’s so good to see you, my dear. When we heard of your marriage, we were so disappointed to have missed the chance to celebrate. And I knew you must have been disappointed as well, long as you’ve waited. But now you are here, and everyone is so excited to welcome you both.”

“Everyone?” Amelia asked, as they breached the entrance hall.

Lady Grantham made an expansive gesture by way of a reply, and Amelia looked around her to see …

Everyone.

Or at least, the better part of the population of Oxfordshire.

Applause broke out amongst the assembled guests, mingled with cheers. Good heavens, there were dozens of them. A few Amelia recognized as relations or old acquaintances, but the majority she assumed to be the neighborhood gentry, all drawn by the promise of a newlywed duke and duchess.

She caught Claudia’s eye. The girl swallowed hard, looking positively ill.

Spencer blinked disdainfully at the crowd, which was typical Spencer behavior.

“Isn’t it wonderful?” Venetia whispered, gripping her arm. “I know you were cheated out of an engagement ball or a proper wedding breakfast, but never despair. Lady Grantham is here to put matters to rights. We’ve a whole evening planned. Dinner, music, dancing.”

“How … how very kind of you,” Amelia said, allowing her cousin to draw her to the center of the room, but at the same time trying to keep Claudia close. The girl needed protection from this horde.

“Come now, you must meet everyone,” Venetia said. “It will take the footmen some time to bring in your trunks, at any rate.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Amelia saw Sir Russell give Spencer a hearty slap on the back, propelling him forward into the crowd. The introductions began. And went on. And went on. Amelia pasted a polite smile on her face and warmly greeted each old and new acquaintance. She kept a watchful eye on Spencer, who clearly did not appreciate Sir Russell’s bold familiarity. Amelia couldn’t make out their words in the din of conversation, but by appearances, Spencer was about as happy to greet the assembled guests as he would be to devour their hats and bonnets, plumes and all. Amelia sighed. She knew this sort of gathering didn’t appeal to him, but couldn’t he at least make the pretense of etiquette?

Lady Grantham took her arm again to steer her toward another group of waiting ladies. Craning her neck to keep watching Spencer, Amelia looked on as a tall, elderly man smiled and nodded through Sir Russell’s fulsome introduction, then made a sweeping, elegant bow as was once the style at Court. While the man was still doubled over his extended calf, Spencer turned on his heel and quit the room.

Oh, now Amelia was incensed. Had he truly just cut that elderly gentleman, mid-bow? Without very good reason, such a move was the height of rudeness. And here they were guests in her cousins’ home … His complete disregard for her relations was insupportable.