Dutywas the operative word in the young duke’s life. He had a duty to his name, to his title, to his estate. And that duty was to do right by them, to not sully or dishonour them, to work hard and do his best, and to beget an heir with a lady of worthy breeding, his duchess.
Miss Hawkins,he thought with a sneer,was born outside of wedlock, brought up by a mistress, and then most likely walked unchaperoned through questionable neighbourhoods daily on her way to... work!
How would such a woman birth and, more importantly,raisethe future duke of Norwich? What would become of England if they were all to just follow their whims and give in to interesting, beautiful women who made them feel confusing things?!
No,he thought, for the thousandth time since the time his hands had touched Lizzie last,it is better like this. Let her marry the swain and leave London, and when she is gone and I never have to lay eyes on her again, everything shall be alright.
But when he entered Almack’s that night, his face frozen in the bored but haughty expression he’d perfected over the years, the only thing he felt waswant.The desire to see Elizabeth’s dimples, even from afar, was so strong that the disappointment born from her absence was almost painful.
It was only the years and years of honing his impeccable manners and spending his evenings in ballrooms that allowedhim to continue functioning, to extend bows and greetings and polite inquiries, and to even go as far as to ask some unlikely partners to dance.
Both Viscount Oakley’s sister and Lady Fairchild had seemed stunned that he’d approached them, but he was a gentleman. No young lady would want for a dance partner while he was present! He asked them both to dance, wondering about how Lady Louisa had made her way intoMiss Hawkins’slittle group.
Why does she collect these quiet, shy girls when she is anything but? Is she, with her fits of pique, drawn to her opposites?He wondered.
He desperately wanted to ask Elizabeth these questions and to have her respond in that frank and, at times, unsophisticated way she had. She spoke the way she moved, with purpose, in a manner that didn’t tolerate foolishness or empty nonsense.
“I fear my friends shall die of envy,” Lady Helena said in a sultry voice as she waved her intricate fan.
“Why is that, Lady Helena?” Talbot asked as he glanced at the door again.
He’d chosen this spot by the refreshments in order to keep an eye on those entering. He could hear Pratt laughing with Lady Helena’s annoying friend, Lady Emma. Or Ella? He had no idea.
Is she unwell? Is that why she isn’t here?
“I may have accidentally revealed to them that you shall be escorting me to the Opera next week,” Lady Helena said, sounding anything but remorseful.
Colin suddenly remembered that he’d absentmindedly offered to do so some days ago after she’d cleverly hinted at it as they werewalking in the Park with a group of friends. He’d been focused on looking around for a bold-coloured dress.Devil take her!
“Yes, Mister Pratt and I are looking forward to it,” he parried, and Pratt nodded, like a true friend.
Lady Helena’s disappointment was immediate, but she covered it up with a smile.
Just then, Miss Hawkins and her curmudgeon aunt entered Almack’s, and Talbot silently praised God for creating balls and ballrooms and dresses and aunts and tendrils of hair and dimples and for giving him eyeballs that enabled him to look at all those things.
The relief he felt almost caused him to take an unthinking step towards her, but luckily, the only movement he made was turning his head back to the woman in front of him.
“Forgive me for not asking sooner, but would you do me the honour of waltzing with me, Lady Helena?”
“Of course, Your Grace. Shall I put you down for the first or the second one?”
Talbot, eager to be on the dance floor at the same time as Lizzie, made the mistake of telling a young woman who was eager to have a duke for a husband, “Both.”
The object of his attention danced the reel with Powell, who looked so utterly out of place as he performed the steps of the merry dance that Talbot was tempted to smile for the first time in days.
That was why he was glancing at him so often, he explained to Lady Amelia, unprompted. It had nothing to do with the ringlets of a certain chestnut head of hair or how the movement had coloured her cheeks.
As their dance progressed, he noted with unease that Lady Fairchild was colder than usual.This is not her usual reticence,he noted with a frown.
“Is aught amiss, Lady Fairchild?” he asked, raising an eyebrow arrogantly, lest she think he cared about her well-being.
“Nought, Your Grace,” the pale creature replied in what was almost a rude tone. “What could be amiss in a life such as mine?”
“Even those who live lives as grand as ours encounter obstacles every once in a while,” Talbot retorted, almost enjoying himself.
“Obstacles are part of life; they do not hurt people,” his dance partner replied mysteriously.
“Pray tell, what hurts them?” he asked.
