One Dance with a Duke (Stud Club #1)(83)

A murmur of dismay made a small ripple through the assembled guests, only increasing Amelia’s mortification.

“Lady Grantham,” she said, “will you please forgive me? I’ve realized there’s an important parcel amongst my things that requires very special attention. I meant to mention it to the footman, but it slipped my mind. I’ll just go out and see to it, and then I’ll return in a moment.” Before the lady could object, Amelia pulled away. “Won’t you introduce Claudia to your daughter Beatrice? She’s fifteen and eager for new friends.”

Leaving Claudia in the hands of her cousin, Amelia hurried out the door the way Spencer had left. Not seeing him immediately, she turned left and followed the drive that led toward the coach house and stables. No doubt he’d spurned human company to look after the horses again.

She hadn’t gone but twenty paces before a harsh, choked cough drew her eye to a side garden. Surprised, Amelia walked toward the sound, passing through a shaded arbor.

What she found astonished her.

“Spencer, is that you?”

Oh, Christ. He knew he should have gone farther from the house.

He tugged fiercely at his cravat, pulling the cloth loose from his neck. He cleared his throat. “It’s nothing. Just needed some air,” he said, striving for a calm, collected tone. “Bloody hot in there.”

“Really? I didn’t think it warm at all.” Her voice was crisp. “If there was anything intolerable in the room, it was your attitude.”

He dropped his head in his hands and exhaled slowly, trying to subdue the pounding in his chest. “You didn’t tell me they would be having a goddamn party, Amelia.”

“I didn’t know.”

“Didn’t you?” He hated the accusation in his voice.

“No. I didn’t.” She crossed her arms. “But what if they are? I know it’s not precisely the cream of London society in there, but they are earnest, well-intentioned people. What have they done, to earn your disdain?”

“Nothing. Nothing.”

She didn’t understand. And even if he wished to explain it to her, he was in no condition to do so. His head was spinning. He didn’t even think he could stand. So many people, such a small space … and he hadn’t been prepared. When he attended balls in Town, he spent hours preparing himself beforehand—physically, mentally. And he brought brandy. God, what he wouldn’t give for a brandy right now.

“Just go on,” he said. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

A bit of solitude was all he needed to get put to rights. Although a minute of it might not be quite enough. Hours worked better.

She dropped onto the bench next to him. “You’re truly ill, aren’t you?”

“No,” he said, far too quickly to sound credible.

Damn, damn, damn.

“You’re trembling. And so pale.”

“I’m fine.”

“Spencer …”

The quality of her voice had changed, from scolding to concerned. He would far rather have the scolding. He quite liked the Amelia who scolded him. He’d missed her, in the past few weeks.

“You look as you did that night,” she said, “on the Bunscombes’ terrace. What is it? What’s wrong?”

Bloody wonderful. Why did he have to marry a clever, inquisitive woman? He had two choices now. Let her drag it out of him slowly, or just have out with it on his own terms.

“Nothing’s wrong,” he said, burying his face in his hands. “It’s just … something that happens sometimes, when there are too many people about. I don’t like crowds.”

She placed a hand on his shoulder. “You don’t like crowds.”

“I can’t abide them, actually. Never have been able to. They make me ill. Physically ill.” There, he’d said it. He’d never said that aloud to anyone in his life. He wasn’t even sure he’d fully admitted it to himself. Oddly, a sense of relief accompanied the admission. His thumping pulse began to slow, and he lifted his head. He’d never been able to comprehend his reaction in these situations. He was a strong, competent, intelligent person in every other respect, and his whole life, this one weakness had maddened him. Perhaps Amelia could help him understand it.

“If I’m prepared in advance,” he said, “I’m fine for a time. A half hour or so, at most. If I stay any longer, or I’m taken by surprise … something happens to me. I don’t know how to describe it. I get warm. My head spins; my heart pounds. The air is suddenly too thick to breathe. It’s as if my whole body insists that I must leave, immediately.”

“So you do.”

“Yes.”

“Even if you have to sweep an impertinent spinster off her feet and take her with you.”

Smiling a little, he arched a brow at her. “You asked for that.” Clearing his throat, he went on, “So long as I’m prepared, I can attend these things. I just make sure to leave before the scene goes bad.”

“Yes,” she said. “I think you told me that. The key is all in knowing when to walk away. So this is why you only stayed for one set of dances? That whole ‘Duke of Midnight’ routine …”

“Was not my idea. I just wanted to keep my appearances brief, and it’s easiest to leave after the supper set. But the whole thing mushroomed, and …”