A hush settled in Apple’s mind. “She knows who I am?”
“Keep telling you, no. She can’t know until she’s heard back from Lady Mere, and perhaps not even then.”
“Who is Lady Mere?”
“An old school friend of my mother’s. Seems she’s the sister of this duke and —”
“Duke?”
It came out as a squeak, and Apple threw a hand to her mouth.
Alex cursed. “Didn’t mean to say that.”
“It’s too late now,” said Apple with a good deal of asperity. “What do you mean, duke? What duke? You don’t mean to say Lady Luthrie thinks my real father is actually a duke? How can she be so mad, Alex?”
“It ain’t as mad as it seems.”
He sounded resigned, and a thudding started up in Apple’s chest. Could it possibly be true?
“Why isn’t it mad?” Alex eyed her in a troubled kind of way and did not answer. Apple let out an exasperated breath. “It’s of no use to look at me like that. Tell me what you meant.”
He threw up his hands. “Very well, if you must have it. Even before I saw Vergette that first time, I’d learned he only served men of the highest rank. Been worrying me ever since.”
“Because you suspected this? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Well, you know why, Apple. Try not to be more of a hen-wit than you can help.”
“I’m not a hen-wit, and I shall be obliged if you will answer my questions without so much roundaboutation.”
Alex’s brows shot up. “Phew! Now you evensoundlike a duke’s daughter.”
Apple’s little spurt of anger deserted her, and she let out an involuntary giggle. Not that the horrid notion was in the least bit funny, but a hideous sense of disorientation was overtaking her mind and she felt much inclined to throw herself to the floor and drum her heels on the carpet, screaming the while.
Instead, she took several deep breaths, looking about the spacious hall in a bid to re-orient herself. To her consternation, she caught sight of Mrs Tinkler descending the stairs.
She turned to Alex, dropping her voice to a whisper. “What is this horrible duke’s name, Alex? Quick!”
“Melkesham. Which, if you’d been other than his natural daughter, would make you Lady Appoline Damerham.”
Apple stared at him, only half aware of the twittering voice of her chaperon approaching. Lady Appoline Damerham! The daughter of a duke! Of higher rank even than Lady Georgiana Dymond! The absurdity of it overtook the apprehension, and Apple broke into helpless giggles.
“Good gracious, what in the world is the matter, Miss Greenaway?”
Alex had risen on Mrs Tinkler’s approach, and the look on his face as he gazed down at her only succeeded in redoubling her laughter. Aware in a corner of her mind that this was an expression of the hysterical fit she’d wanted to indulge in, Apple tried vainly to control herself and offer a suitably innocuous explanation.
“It’s — it’s n-nothing… Lord Dymond t-told me a — a joke.”
Except that it was anything but a joke. If it was true, she was effectively barred from any association with the gentry. The realisation arrested her amusement, and she hiccupped into silence. She looked up at Alex and found him regarding her, an unreadable expression in his eyes.
“That’s why Mr Vergette came to find you at Dymond Garth? He’d been instructed to tell you to have nothing to do with me.”
Alex’s brows drew together and he flicked a glance at Mrs Tinkler, who was looking bewildered, as well she might. Apple’s cheeks warmed.
“Mrs Tinkler, would you be so kind as to bespeak dinner? Lord Dymond will not be joining us.”
“Oh, dear, won’t he?”
A worried look went to Alex, who smiled. With an effort, Apple thought.
