“Exactly! He is—” Margaret broke off, narrowing her eyes. “That isnotwhat I meant.”
“You walked neatly into that one, my dear,” Papa said with a chuckle. They all hesitated—waiting for the sound of another fit—but when it did not come, they relaxed again.
Margaret waved a dismissive hand and reached for the sugar. “In any case, we must look to the bright side. Even if nothing comes of it, others may take notice once they see that the Duke has done so.”
“Or,” Papa added, “perhaps the Duke himself may be taken with her.”
Elowen sipped her tea, acutely aware of her father’s gaze upon her. She kept her face perfectly composed, though her pulse betrayed her.
“I fear that is a most romantic notion," she said evenly, “but hardly a likely one.”
“Why?” Mama demanded. “You are beautiful, intelligent, and charming. Qualities any gentleman would admire—especially a man of sense like the Duke.”
“The Duke of Beaushire,” Elowen replied, her voice quiet but firm, “is not likely to pay romantic attention to the daughter of a supposedly corrupt baron. That is a fact.”
Her words fell into a silence that settled heavily upon the room. She disliked speaking of the scandal—but she disliked even more the way her parents sometimes spoke as if it had never happened, as though they did not all live each day beneath its shadow.
Mama broke the quiet first. “Either way, we should be grateful that he invited us to join them. And it is not as though you have no other prospects. What of the Marquess of Cherrington? Have you shown your father the gift he presented you in the park?”
Papa said nothing, only raising his brows in silent question.
Elowen sighed. “A book of poetry. He claimed he purchased it because it reminded him of me. It is upstairs, if you wish me to fetch it.”
“There is no need,” Papa said. “The mere fact that he gave you a gift—so publicly, no less—suggests he is interested in courtship.”
Elowen regarded her father over the rim of her cup. “You do not seem nearly as enthusiastic about that prospect as you were about the Duke’s supposed interest.”
Papa shrugged, reaching for a cucumber sandwich. “Any chance of your finding a husband piques my interest.”
“Is that so? You seemed rather familiar with His Grace at the ball—you even called him by his given name. Just how well acquainted are you two?”
“I was something of a mentor to him after his years at Eton,” Papa replied. “The late duke was not always easy to approach, and I suppose Lucas sought a measure of guidance in me. I was glad to provide it.”
“Ah... I see.”
Margaret chuckled. “You have rendered her speechless, Eric.”
“We should commemorate this momentous occasion,” Eric agreed with a grin.
Elowen resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “I did not expect that to be the reason, that’s all. But that only proves my point—His Grace’s attentions are born of gratitude, nothing more.”
“Indebted or not,” Papa said mildly, “you ought to go and prepare for the museum. We would not wish to keep His Grace waiting.”
“How dreadful that would be.” Elowen’s tone held the faintest trace of irony as she set down her half-finished tea and rose. Then, more softly: “Are you certain you will be all right without me?”
“I shall manage perfectly well,” Papa said with a faint smile. “Your mother will see to that.”
“Indeed I will,” Mama replied, her tone brisk but fond. “I shall have Harold remain nearby in case he is needed.”
“He is our butler, Margaret,” Papa sighed. “I daresay he has more important matters to attend.”
“And what could be more important than ensuring his master’s comfort?” she countered gently. “Besides, he is always glad to be of help.”
“Margaret—”
“Now that that is settled,” Mama said, rising with purpose and a glint of excitement in her eyes, “we must decide what you will wear. Come along, Elowen.”
Elowen groaned under her breath as her mother seized her hand and towed her toward the door. She cast a helpless look over her shoulder at her father.Help me,she mouthed.
