A Duke in the Night(48)

“Visiting friends and seeing the sights,” Stilton replied, smiling at her again. “You’ve spoken so often of the county’s beauty on our many, many outings, and I just had to see it for myself.” His eyes slid in the direction of Holloway’s and then back.

Clara raised her glass to her lips so she didn’t have to reply to a comment that had clearly been uttered for the duke’s benefit. Her patience was rapidly deteriorating.

“How are you faring with your classes, Miss Hayward?” Stilton inquired.

“Very well, thank you,” she answered politely.

“Your students must be enjoying the beauty of Kent.”

It was like a death by a thousand cuts, this small talk. Usually she was a master at polite conversation. Today she just wanted nothing to do with it. “They are,” she replied.

Stilton smoothed his hands over the front of his coat. “Forgive my forwardness, but I was wondering if I might have the privilege of calling on you sometime later this week, Miss Hayward?” Stilton asked gallantly. “I would be honored if you would accompany me for a scenic drive.” He turned back to Harland. “If that meets with your approval, of course, Lord Strathmore.”

From the corner of her eye, Clara saw August step farther into the room.

Harland shifted. “My sister has a very capable mind of her own,” he said. “She doesn’t need my approval to make her own decisions about how she chooses to spend her time.”

The duke went rigid, setting Clara in mind of a bull about to charge. She suddenly understood how Anne must feel regularly.

“Miss Hayward?” Stilton prompted silkily.

No, she didn’t really want to go driving with Mathias Stilton. Or the Duke of Holloway. Or anyone else for that matter, no matter how gallantly he asked.

“That is a very kind offer, Mr. Stilton, but I fear that I will be very busy with classes—”

Stilton pressed his hands together. “But surely, Miss Hayward, you’ll have a moment of free time? I would love you to show me—”

“She said she’s busy.” August’s words fell like an anvil.

Clara glared at him, her irritation spiking into something that was closer to fury. How dare August presume to insert himself into this conversation? He had no claim on her, her time, or whom she went driving with.

“Of course,” Stilton said flatly. “My apologies, Miss Hayward, I did not intend to—”

“On second thought, I’m sure I could find time, Mr. Stilton,” Clara said impulsively. Bloody insufferable duke. “Perhaps at the end of the week if that would suit. Sunday is a day off for both the students and me.”

August crossed his arms over his considerable chest and glowered at her. She ignored him.

“Oh, indeed. That would be superb. I’m looking forward to it.” Stilton shot August a smug, triumphant look that almost made her change her mind again. “I shan’t take up any more of your time.” Stilton offered a small bow in Clara’s general direction. “I’ll send a message on to Avondale, then, Miss Hayward, to find a time convenient for you?”

“Of course.”

“Good afternoon, then. It’s been a pleasure.”

“Good afternoon.” Clara was the only one who answered, and Stilton sauntered from the library, though he gave August a wide berth.

“You should not feel obligated to entertain Stilton just because he is here, Clara,” Harland said, bending to peer more closely at a map. “Or just because he asked.”

“I know that,” Clara answered in clipped tones.

“The man is a hopeless fop.”

“Perhaps, Harland, but that doesn’t make him unworthy of friendship,” she said.

August made a rude noise.

“You disagree, Your Grace?” Harland’s question was almost mocking, and Clara sent another quelling look his way that was wasted on the top of his head. Her brother did not need to encourage the duke’s bloody barbaric behavior.

“It doesn’t matter if you disagree. Your opinions are not required in this matter, Your Grace,” Clara bit out. “Surely there is a sheep pasture that needs another inspection at this time?”

“The man is clearly infatuated with your sister, Strathmore,” August said to Harland, completely ignoring Clara. “Does that not concern you?” He made his way past her and retrieved the whiskey, then poured himself his own drink.

“Jealousy does not become you, Your Grace.” And bitterness did not become her, but Clara couldn’t help herself.

August turned an intense blue gaze on her. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m simply concerned for your well-being.”

“If you weren’t aware, I’ve been looking after myself for quite some time now, and I don’t need your assistance.”

The duke set the decanter back on the table with an angry thump.

“He may be a fop, but he’s treated both my sisters with nothing but respect, Your Grace.” Harland straightened from his map.

August made a face. “But—”

“Are you infatuated with Mathias Stilton, Clara?” Her brother asked, interrupting August.

“Of course not.”

“Planning to elope this weekend with the man?”

“Don’t be asinine.”