He is waiting for me.
Her mouth dry, Eugenia dipped low as he closed the distance between them, his boots echoing hollowly on the stone floor. Licking her lips, she tried to find the words to tell him he must not continue his attentiveness to her, but Eugenia gazed up into his smiling, kind and humorous face.
“Your Grace,” she began. “You are waiting for me.”
“Indeed, I am, Miss Betham.”
Before she could stop the words, before she lost her courage, she blurted, “You must not. Please. I am low born, you are a Duke, it is not seemly for you to – to pay such attention to one such as I.” Recognizing the danger signs in his lowered brows and thinned lips, she continued on, speaking hastily, rushing the words out in a tumble. “I really like you, truly I do, but can you not see? Nothing can come of – I mean, Lady Helena is for you, not I.”
Chapter 13
Maximilian stared down at the girl – the girl who intrigued and fascinated him from the first moment he saw her – now telling him he should not see her. His anger built and grew, and as she finished, her hands clasped in front of her, he felt the shout rise as far as his throat and stop there. Instead of yelling at her as he thought he might, he recognized what she was trying to do. His anger deflated as quickly as it rose.
“No,” he said simply. “No, I will not cease paying attention to you, as you are a bright and shining light in this world, and I like you too much not to want to see you.”
“But –”
He placed his finger over her lips, silencing her. “I understand what you are trying to do, and I applaud you for it. You have captured my interest, not Lady Helena. While I do not know where this might lead, I plan to follow it.”
Miss Betham nodded, still unhappy though her hazel eyes brightened as he spoke, and she fought not to smile. “I do not want Lady Helena hurt, Your Grace.”
“Nor do I,” he replied, offering her a tiny smile. “She will not be hurt because of you or me. Understand?”
She nodded again. “I just feel as though I am conniving behind her back.”
Maximilian grinned. “Then that makes two of us. I am not one to encourage two women and thus have tried to discourage Lady Helena's suit without becoming brutally honest with her. I do not wish to hurt her feelings.”
At that moment, a footman stepped from the dining hall and cleared his throat. “Your Grace, the Dowager Duchess has requested you join her, Lord Wilmot and their guests at the table.”
Sighing, he signaled that he would be along. “Duty calls with a strident voice,” he said lightly. “I believe the weather will clear soon, Miss Betham. Perhaps you will walk with me in the garden this evening?”
“Yes, gladly.”
He smiled as he bent his neck in a short bow and murmured, “Until then.”
He walked past her, unable to halt the silly feeling of euphoria from closing in on his heart he strode quickly into the vast dining hall. “My apologies for being tardy,” he said to the people already seated at one end of the fifty-chair table.
The Whitingtons rose to bow or curtsey as Augusta eyed him with both annoyance and impatience as he took his seat at the table’s head. “So glad you could find time to join us,” she murmured, the acid in her tone for his ears alone.
Even his stepmother’s acerbic attitude failed to deter his exhilarated emotions, yet he damped them down for the sake of propriety at the table. He returned Augusta’s faint frown with a don’t-push-me smile, then turned a sincere one for his guests. “A little trouble at the stables, but all sorted now.”
He caught a rapid glimpse of Lady Helena's eye roll before she turned her attention to Wilmot seated opposite her. Wilmot, unsmiling and downcast as always, tried to ignore her attempts at conversation as the butler began his rounds of setting bowls of hot soup in front of everyone.
“I say,” said the Earl of Whitington, “any further word on who may have taken the shot at you, Your Grace?”
Before he could answer, Augusta interrupted. “Let us not continue that dreary conversation. Have we not talked enough about it at breakfast? I am sure it was some hunter on the moors who has long since vanished. It was an accident and nothing more.”
While Maximilian knew that was not the truth, he did not mind if the subject was dropped or if people wanted to believe it was an accident and would not happen again. It actually made figuring who was trying to kill him that much easier. “Whatever the reason is,” he said, his voice genial, “it is over now.”
The Earl looked baffled but shrugged and picked up his spoon to start on his soup. Wilmot ate his, his head and eyes down while Lady Helena gazed at Maximilian with wide green eyes. He glanced away, unable to look long at her. She reminded him so much of Sophia that it hurt to glance at her, speak to her, spend time with her.
Perhaps it would not be so difficult to get to know her if she owned blonde hair and blue eyes.
“I have news that is far more distressing,” Augusta announced, sipping her soup. “The Prince Regent will not be attending our ball. It appears he has pressing engagements elsewhere.”
Maximilian also turned his attention to his lunch, unconcerned about the ball and who will be attending. “Pity,” was all he said.
“However,” Augusta went on. “The Duke and Duchess of Dentonshire have graciously replied to their invitation and have agreed to come. They will arrive a few days before the event.”
