Loving The Lost Duke (Dangerous Deceptions #1)(6)
‘Your Grace, I would be most happy. I believe I have some free.’ She dropped the slightest hint of a curtsey and stepped back into the crowd. No-one was looking at her, thank heavens. All eyes were fixed on the Duke and on the men he was facing, Lord Peter Thorne his uncle, and Ralph Thorne his cousin. Her own lukewarm suitor. They seemed stunned. Not joyful, not surprised, simply shocked.
It was not her business and it might add emphasis to her unconventional entrance if she showed interest. The violins scraped a few notes, then fell silent. The next set was forming and where was Lord Heaton?
‘Miss Wilmott. Surely that was not you entering just now? And was that indeed Calderbrook?’ Her partner had found her.
‘Yes it was, and I believe it is.’ And put a zero in the Intelligent column under your name, my lord. ‘I met him just outside the door and he positively caught me up. Really quite thrilling. For a moment I thought he was going to sweep me down the stairs and abscond with me.’ She produced an inane titter with worrying ease.
‘Most alarming for you, Miss Wilmott.’ Heaton frowned and set his jaw. ‘I shall go and have a firm word with him. Duke or not, he cannot go around accosting young ladies. Are you very discommoded, Miss Wilmott? Perhaps you would prefer that I take you to your mama.’
And another zero in the Humour column. And a tick in a new column for Pomposity. Oh dear. Lord Heaton had been the second on her list of potential husbands. Mentally she drew a thick black line through his name. ‘There is no harm done, please do not call him to account, I would be so embarrassed. Doubtless the Duke has a sense of the dramatic but I am sure the effect of dancing with you will be most calming, Lord Heaton.’ She smiled and took his hand and allowed herself to be taken to join the set that was forming. Obviously the fun was over for the evening.
‘Calderbrook?’ His uncle stared at him as though he had descended from the ceiling in a fiery chariot. ‘Cal, it really is you? Why didn’t you let us know you were returning?’ He was not far off gibbering.
‘Yes, it is indeed I. Please, Uncle, calm yourself. This excess of joy cannot be good for you.’ It looked more like shock than happiness and Ralph too was frowning, not smiling, but the frankly gaping onlookers looked equally amazed, so perhaps the lack of enthusiasm would pass unnoticed by everyone but himself. Cousin Ralph had matured into a thoroughly respectable-looking man – one who was, apparently, on first name terms with the lovely Miss Wilmott.
‘Our unfriendly neighbours the French make sailing schedules a lottery, so I had no idea when I would land. Or where.’ He had put his household on alert by letter but, even if he had been able to time this to the minute, he’d had no intention of alerting his relatives to his return.
Finally his uncle managed to pull himself together, took a step forward and embraced him. Cal hugged back. Despite everything it felt good. More than good. Under his hands the older man’s shoulders felt thinner, he had developed a bit of a stoop. For a second his vision blurred. Stupid to feel a pang of – what? Guilt for worrying him?
The crowd gave a sentimental collective sigh and they disentangled themselves. Ralph leaned in and shook his hand. ‘It is damned good to have you back, Cal, although I would hardly recognise you. When you left you were…’
‘Sickly, skinny and shy?’
Ralph’s mouth thinned at his mocking tone. ‘You were barely convalescent from that last bout of fever. But you have flourished in seven years, that much is evident.’
‘We cannot speak here – besides anything else, I must make my apologies to Lady Radlett for gate-crashing her ball. I saw the red carpet was down as I drove past and could not resist changing and coming right out again. I will call on you both tomorrow morning.’
Cal found a smile as he turned and left them to make his way towards the faintly-remembered matron who was advancing on him, plumes nodding, Roman nose twitching with well-bred curiosity. ‘Lady Radlett, will you forgive me? I have barely arrived in Town and could not think of a better reintroduction to London Society than your famed May Ball.’
‘My dear Duke! Enchanted and honoured.’ She beamed as he lifted her hand to his lips. He had no qualms about imposing on her hospitality – the return of the Lost Duke would make her ball the talk of the Season and she would revel in every moment of the attention.
‘We are all agog to hear about your travels. Dear Lord Peter and Mr Thorne have kept us all abreast of your journeyings from your wonderful letters, but that is no substitute to hearing it from your own lips. America! The Arctic wastes! New Zealand – or was it Australia? Or are those the same thing? Such a long way away… The South Seas! India! And to be gone for seven years – but it was obviously such a wise decision, for it seems to have worked wonders for your health.’ Her gaze slid over his chest, his shoulders, in frank appraisal.
Cal responded automatically while he digested that piece of information. His uncle had been so very open about his wanderings, had he? Probably wise to prevent nasty rumours, the sort of gossip that might follow when a young duke leaves the country immediately after attaining his majority and release from his uncle’s guardianship and control. Even more so when the duke in question had been sickly and accident-prone throughout childhood and adolescence and the uncle in question was his heir to title, power and vast estates.
‘Indeed, England never seemed very healthy for me,’ he agreed as guests began to crowd round to welcome him back. ‘But I have been away too long and it is good to be back home again and to see my uncle and cousin in particular. I am looking forward to getting to know my family once again.’