One Dance with a Duke (Stud Club #1)(9)

Bellamy stepped forward, tapping his gold-knobbed walking stick on the paving stones as he went. “I’m sorry.”

Amelia’s hand went to her mouth. “Oh, poor Lily.”

“You know his sister?”

She nodded. “A little.”

The duke seemed to recall his social duty, as the only person present acquainted with all parties. “Lady Amelia d’Orsay, this is Mr. Julian Bellamy.” His voice darkened a shade as he introduced the larger man. “And that’s Rhys St. Maur, Lord Ashworth.”

“Under any other circumstance, I’m sure I would be delighted.” Amelia inclined her head. “May I ask, how is Lily coping with her grief?”

“She has not yet been informed of Leo’s death,” Bellamy said. “That’s why we’ve come for you, Morland. As the remaining members of the Stud Club, we have an obligation to her.”

“We do?”

“Yes, we do.”

“What sort of obligation? Imposed by whom?”

“It’s in the code. The Stud Club Code of Good Breeding. As your interest obviously lies purely in the horse and not in the club’s spirit of fraternity, I don’t suppose you’ve taken the care to acquaint yourself with it.”

“I’ve never even heard of such a thing,” said Morland. He looked to Ashworth. “Have you?”

The larger man remained cloaked in shadow, but Amelia could tell that he shook his head in the negative.

“There is a code,” Bellamy said impatiently. “And you are both subject to it. Else you must forfeit your interest in the Club entirely. Now come along, both of you. We must inform Lily of her brother’s death.”

“Wait,” Amelia said. “I’ll go with you.”

“No,” the three men said in unison. They looked around at one another, as if surprised to find themselves in agreement.

“Yes,” she argued back. “Yes, I will. Lily’s parents are no longer living. Leo was her only family, correct?”

“Correct,” Bellamy said. “Unfortunately.”

“Well, you gentlemen may have your clubs and tokens and codes of honor, but we ladies have our sisterhood. And I will not allow the three of you to go trampling Lily’s feelings like so many elephants. Tonight, she will learn that her only brother has died and she is alone in the world. She will need understanding, comfort, a shoulder to cry upon. And I refuse to let her suffer through it alone, while you three dolts stand around, arguing the finer points of your asinine club and its asinine code.”

There was a prolonged silence, during which Amelia began to regret a few of her words. Such as “dolt,” applied to two peers of the realm. And the uninspired repetition of “asinine.” But she would not apologize for the sentiment, and she would not be left behind. She knew what it was to lose a brother. She knew what it was to walk down that particular alley of Hell all alone. What she would not have given for Mama’s presence on the day they came about Hugh.

At last, the duke spoke. “We will take my carriage. It’s readied, and I have the finest team.”

“My bays are warm,” said Bellamy.

Morland firmed his jaw. “I have the finest team. Anywhere.”

A deferential silence followed. It hadn’t even been a command, but with those few words the duke had asserted absolute control of the situation. If he had been feeling ill, he now appeared fully recovered.

Fitter than ever, to Amelia’s eyes.

“As you wish,” Bellamy said. “Can we cut across the gardens? Until we’ve spoken with Lily, I’m loath to draw public notice.”

Again, all three men looked to Amelia.

She paused. Obviously, it would not escape the guests’ attention that she and the Duke of Morland had disappeared into the night. But all would be explained, once Leo’s death became public knowledge tomorrow. And it wasn’t as though they were alone.

She nodded. “Very well.”

Bellamy and Ashworth cleared the railing easily. Their boots landed in the flowerbed with a soft squish before they rounded the hedge and disappeared the same way they’d come. Morland went next, stepping over the rail one long leg at a time.

He directed Amelia to sit on the balustrade, then to swing her legs across. She did so, in rather ungainly fashion. A fold of her gown became tangled in the closure of her slipper, and that made for some seconds’ delay. At last freed, she prepared to slide down from the rail. It was only a few feet to the ground.

The duke stopped her.

“Allow me,” he said, placing his hands about her waist. “It’s muddy here.”

At her nod of assent, Amelia found herself in those powerful arms for the second time that evening. Lifted effortlessly from the balustrade, swung over the flowerbed, and deposited on the raked gravel path. Gently, this time. Surely she was reading far too much into it, but she couldn’t help but imagine he was making amends. Offering an unspoken apology for his brutish behavior in the ballroom.

“Oh,” she said, swaying a bit as he released her. “Thank you.”

“Thank you,” he replied, laying a hand to the coat pocket where he’d placed her handkerchief. “For earlier.”

“We needn’t speak of it. Are you well?”

“Yes.”