The duke managed to wait until Mr. Fawkes exited the aviary before letting out a long slow breath.
Noelle felt for him. The old clerk’s ruined hearing had failed the duke not once but twice. Both times, Silkridge had been a remarkably good sport. She doubted his grandfather would have handled the situation with such grace. Silkridge was a good man.
She, on the other hand, was far less noble. A tiny part of her was glad that Mr. Fawkes had failed to deliver as promised. His mistake had given her a reprieve from the duke’s inevitable departure. She could keep him a little while longer. This was a blessing.
The duke swung his frustrated gaze from the pear tree to her. “Recall the announcements before they’re posted. We will have to cancel the christening.”
“Or,” she said gently. “You could let me handle this.”
He stared glumly at the spindly branches devoid of fruit before him. “By tomorrow?”
Her stomach twisted. She might have considered the mix-up a dream come true, but to Silkridge it was a nightmare. He would rather be anywhere else but Cressmouth. He would leave within the hour if he could. She would do well not to forget that.
“I told you,” she reminded him. “I know a partridge expert.”
He slid her a look out of the corner of his eye. “Why would any town have a partridge expert?”
“Bird expert,” Noelle amended. “Virginia loves animals. She can solve this.”
“Can she?” His voice was doubtful. “Doesn’t her cat love birds?”
“Not one whit,” Noelle answered with forced cheer. “Don’t worry. Virginia keeps everything in its place. She’ll know right where to find a spare partridge.”
He nodded. “Thank you.”
Noelle could not quite bring herself to sayyou’re welcome. She was ushering Silkridge out the door when all she wanted was for him to stay.
For the first time in her life, she wished she weren’t so deuced efficient.
“This is our last night,” the duke said as if reading her mind.
She swallowed. “Yes.”
He nodded slowly. “Then I accept your help under one condition.”
She frowned. Surely he wouldn’t ask her to move the event up even sooner. “What condition?”
His voice grew husky. “Allow me to escort you to tonight’s play.”
She stared at him, her voice faint even to her own ears. “Tonight’s play?”
“The Winter’s Tale,” he said. “Didn’t you say it was your favorite?”
“I said it was in an amphitheater,” she reminded him. “The outdoor kind.”
“It will be worth it,” he said softly, his blue eyes locked on hers.
Her heart leapt. Perhaps he was changing his mind about her. Perhaps she could even change his mind about Cressmouth.
“On one condition,” she said, and bit her lip.
His eyebrows shot up. “Name it.”
“Let me give you a tour of the town first,” she said impulsively. “Show you everything theCressmouth Chroniclecannot begin to cover.”
He glanced over his shoulder as the wind whistled against the aviary’s many panes of glass. “Right now?”
“One couldn’t ask for a bluer sky,” she said. “We can take a picnic lunch. Fruit and meats and cheeses.”
