Loving The Lost Duke (Dangerous Deceptions #1)(59)

‘The post has arrived, Your Grace,’ Renshaw informed Cal. ‘Your correspondence has been delivered to your study.’

‘Please distribute our guests’ letters.’ Cal glanced round. ‘We are informal here, please, feel free.’

The letter sat beside her plate, ignored, while she sipped at her fresh cup of coffee and tried to watch Cal without appearing anxious and drawing attention to him. Jared Hunt’s mouth was a tight line that she supposed was frustration and Cal was making no pretence at eating, nor, she was glad to see, drinking the strong black coffee.

‘It is drizzling this morning,’ Lady Peter observed. ‘I suggest, ladies, that we take our sewing to the Long Gallery. Perhaps some of you might care to play for us on the piano there.’

Sophie made sounds that she hoped signified interest and agreement, all the time aware of her mother’s gaze on her face and of Cal, apparently staying upright in his chair by sheer force of will alone.

She caught his eye and mouthed, ‘Go to bed,’ at him and felt herself blush as he raised one eyebrow and sent her a look that suggested she might like to join him. Perhaps he was not about to die, after all.

‘Sophie.’ She jumped, her nerves raw, and found her mother standing beside her chair.

‘Mama?’

‘What have you been doing? You look dreadful. Are you sickening for something?’

‘I had a very disturbed night, Mama, and hardly any sleep. I really cannot account for it.’ Which was true enough, she had no idea what had made Cal so ill.

‘And Calderbrook looks decidedly under the weather as well.’

‘So does Mr Thorne,’ Sophie murmured. ‘And Mr Hunt doesn’t look quite his normal self either. Perhaps they were drinking rather heavily last night.’

‘I do hope not. I do not like to think of such nice young men drinking to excess.’

‘No, Mama.’

‘Who is your correspondent, dear?’

‘Correspondent? Oh, I have a letter. I hadn’t noticed.’ Mama did not move. Although she would not insist on reading her daughter’s letters, she would certainly expect to be told who was writing.

Sophie picked up an unused knife, slit the seal and partly unfolded the first sheet to show the stick-maker’s letterhead. Why couldn’t she have opened it earlier, before her mother came to stand right beside her? ‘It is from the stick-maker.’ She lowered her voice. ‘I bought a cane from him as a present for Cal and he has sent his account.’

‘To this address?’

And why did Mama have to be so intelligent? ‘I stupidly forgot to give him our London address, but I told him I was coming here and who the cane was for so he could engrave Cal’s initials on the silver band.’

‘I see. He is most urgent for his money, I must say.’

Sophie shrugged. ‘I was a new customer, I suppose he is a little cautious. It is not a large shop.’

Out of the corner of her eye she could see Hunt engaging the other men in an earnest discussion of the rival merits of billiards, a visit to the gun room, reading the newspapers in the library or braving the drizzle for a walk. Inevitably the billiard table and the gun room won out and the men began to leave the table and straggle out.

Only Sophie seemed to notice Hunt stop beside Cal, partly shielding him from the room so that he could get unsteadily to his feet and pause to regain his balance. ‘I want to see those new Manton’s of yours,’ Hunt said as they left the room, tucking his hand companionably under his elbow as they strolled out. It was beautifully done.

‘I think I will go and lie down, Mama. If I can get a few hours’ sleep I will feel so much better. Otherwise I will be poor company later today.’

‘That might be sensible, dear. Would you like me to come and read to you while you drop off?’

‘Thank you, no. Perhaps you could explain to Lady Peter, give her my apologies?’

Sophie closed the door of her bedchamber behind her and leaned against it with a sigh of relief, then went through the linking rooms to Cal’s bedchamber. Flynn emerged from the dressing room. ‘Are you alone, Miss Wilmott?’

‘Yes. Tell me, how is he, honestly?’

‘Sick as a horse,’ the valet said frankly. ‘But Hunt says he wasn’t near so bad as he was the times before he left home.’

Sophie noted the informal way he spoke of the fencing master and wondered just how he addressed Cal when they were alone. She suspected the three had formed a close friendship during their travels. ‘He’s not a sickly youth now,’ she said. ‘He is strong and fit. That might make a difference.’

‘True, ma’am.’ Flynn moved to straighten the brushes on the dressing table. ‘Even so, they both think that this time he had a smaller dose of whatever it was. I’ve been testing everything in here – cologne, tooth powder, shaving soap, the water in the carafe beside the bed, although I filled that myself last evening.’

‘How have you tested things?’

‘Tried them myself. Drank the water, shaved with the soap, used the tooth powder, splashed on the cologne. Feel as fit as a flea, but then, it might take all day.’

‘That is very loyal of you to do that. For goodness sake, tell us if you feel at all unwell.’

The valet shrugged. ‘He saved my life, him and Jared. And he didn’t mind who or what I was. Gave me a job, turned my life around. I owe Cal… I owe His Grace a lot.’