“I am not worried about gossip at all,” she said, and stood up, hardening her heart against him. “For there is nothing to gossip about. There is no romance, there is no engagement, and I am not marrying him! The sooner everyone understands that, the better!”
Slapping the book in her hand against her palm, she walked out of the drawing room, leaving the others looking after her, astonished by her outburst. A game such as this required two players, she told herself as she went up the stairs to her room. She decided she simply would not play his game. She would not play the fool for him twice. Sometimes, even a duke had to take no for an answer.
Chapter 22
Lady Fitzhugh’s prediction that their house would be inundated with callers began to come true the very next afternoon. The first visitor Daphne received was Lord Durand.
She was not in the best mood for receiving any callers. She and Elizabeth had just arrived home after a walk to Montagu House, where she had been refused entry into that exclusive museum because she had not applied ahead of time in writing for a ticket to view the collections. The statement that she was the daughter of Sir Henry Wade, whose excavations made up part of those collections, had not impressed the curators enough for them to break their rules. So, when she arrived back at the house in Russell Square and found that Durand was waiting for her in the drawing room, her mood did not improve.
She halted at the bottom of the stairs, her hand tightening around the cap of the newel post. “Lord Durand?” she repeated, staring at Mary in shock as she handed the maid her bonnet and pelisse. “Why should he want to see me?”
The maid took them, and answered, “I don’t know, miss, but Lady Fitzhugh said I should fetch you when you arrived.”
Before Daphne could reply, Lady Fitzhugh emerged from the drawing room upstairs, evidently having heard their voices down below. She came down the stairs to them at once.
“Lord Durand is here,” she whispered to Daphne. “He has been waiting for over half an hour.” She laid a hand on Daphne’s arm, and said gently, “He has informed us that he is your grandfather—your mother’s father—and he has only recently been made aware of his connection with you. Daphne, is this true?”
“Yes,” Daphne admitted, as she started up the stairs with her friend beside her. “But we have been estranged for years, and I have never met him in my life. Why should he wish to see me now?”
“He said he wishes to talk with you. He seems eager to meet you at last, and thinking it might perhaps be an awkward meeting for you, Sir Edward requested that he and I be present. The baron agreed. If you do not mind, of course.”
“No, not at all. I suppose I cannot refuse to see him, even though he has refused to see me.”
“Has he?” Lady Fitzhugh frowned. “He seems quite eager to see you today. But in any case, I do not believe that would be your wisest course, dear. He has already acknowledged to Edward and myself his familial connection with you.”
“Has he?” she asked as Lady Fitzhugh opened the door and entered the drawing room. Daphne followed.
Her first sight of the baron rather startled her, and she paused in the doorway. She had not expected him to be an attractive man at all. She had envisioned a sort of wizened, stooping old fellow with a pursed-up mouth and meanness in his expression. Instead, she found a tall, elegant-looking man, with silver hair and a countenance that, though lined with the marks of his age, was quite a handsome one. Which made his first words all the more appalling.
“My dear granddaughter,” he cried, coming to take her hands in his. “It is so heartening to finally see you. Come, come, let me look at you.” He gave her appearance scarcely more than a glance from head to toe, then tucked her arm over his and led her past Sir Edward, who stood beside the fireplace, to the settee opposite the chair where Lady Fitzhugh had seated herself. “Let us have a nice visit together.”
Daphne pulled her arm out of his and chose the chair beside Lady Fitzhugh opposite the settee so that she could look directly at him, but before she could ask the only question to which she wanted an answer, the baron spoke.
“I am so happy for you, my dear child. Let me be the first to congratulate you.”
She blinked. “I beg your pardon? For what am I to be congratulated?”
“On your engagement to his grace, the Duke of Tremore, of course.”
Daphne was astonished. “I do not know what you mean. I am not engaged to the duke.”
The baron did not seem at all taken aback by her words. “Of course, of course. I understand. The duke explained to me how impetuous his proposal had been, and how you expected him to court you in the proper way before allowing your engagement to be announced officially.”
“Did he indeed?” she responded through clenched teeth.
“Yes, and I understand. You have every right to expect even a duke to woo you first.”
“I have no intention of marrying him,” she said, not knowing who was succeeding in irritating her more, Anthony or the baron. Just now, she had enough for both of them.
The baron winked at her. “Not many other young ladies would be so brave as to keep a duke dangling, but he seems fond enough of you that he is resigned to it. However, I must invoke a word of caution, my dear. Do not push him too far. He is a duke, after all.”
Daphne had a feeling she was going to be hearing that phrase quite often. “I am not marrying him,” she said. “Pray do not speak of an engagement that does not exist.”
“This desire for secrecy on your part seems a pointless business, for the duke made it clear to me that he would make no secret of his suit. You are my granddaughter, and as an honorable gentleman, I have an obligation to you. I am impelled to provide you with some counsel on this courtship, though of course, I already gave the duke my permission and my blessing.”
She was getting very tired of honorable gentlemen. “I do not wish to be your obligation, sir.”
Before he could reply, she rushed on to the only subject she wished to discuss. “Why did you hush up my mother’s elopement to my father, and how did you keep it a secret?”
