She followed him into the foyer, and they were led down a long, bright hallway toward the ballroom. Amelia tried to calm herself with every step. After all, there would be no Brighthollow tonight. Or if he was in attendance, he certainly would have nothing to do with her. Whatever had brought him to her father’s parlor wasn’t her concern, and his odd behavior in the Willowby parlor had to be an anomaly.
To consider it anything else was to court folly more than she already had.
Hugh sipped his drink and watched from a distance as Amelia was all but surrounded by the duchesses, that collective group of his best friends’ wives who swept up anyone they liked into their wake. He had no idea what Diana had told them about Amelia, but clearly they were sweepingherup at that moment.
“Watching anyone in particular? Or just observing the storm that is the wives?”
Hugh turned and couldn’t help but grin. Christopher Collins, the Earl of Idlewood, had approached him. As Hugh stuck out a hand in greeting, Kit tugged him in for a hug and pounded his back briefly.
“I had no idea you were in Town,” Hugh said as they parted. “How is your father?”
He watched as Kit’s face fell and felt a pit in his own stomach. Kit was the last of their little club of dukes who had not yet taken his title. His father, the Duke of Kingsacre, was the best of men. But he was failing. Dying.
And he saw the strain of it on Kit’s face.
“He has good days and bad,” Kit said. “Diana has come to see him several times and her medicines actually seem to help, which is comforting. Still…”
He didn’t finish the sentence, and Hugh didn’t push him. “So, he drove you to go to London, did he?”
“You know him. He insists that I go on with my life. He even says it’s practice.” Kit turned his face.
“And how is Phoebe?”
Kit smiled ever so slightly. “Very well. My sister is a happy little girl who adores her father. But she is so young. She doesn’t understand his illness, though she does notice the change in him. Before I left, she very solemnly asked me why Papa was so tired now.”
Hugh caught his breath. “I know a little about playing father to a younger sister.”
“I know.” Kit’s voice cracked. “And when the time comes, I will need your help in exactly how to manage that feat.” He shook his head. “But enough about that. What is it across the room that interests you so deeply?”
“Just watching the duchess cloud, you know,” Hugh said, glancing back at the group of them. Amelia was laughing with them now, and that smile. Great God, but she was beautiful.
“Who is the girl?” Kit asked.
Hugh jerked his face toward his friend. “That obvious, am I?”
“I know you aren’t the kind of man to covet a friend’s bride,” Kit said. “And you have a very…covetouslook on your face. Since the young lady is the only unknown in the group, I must assume she is what draws your attention.”
Hugh continued looking at Amelia without responding. What was he to say? Kit had such a deep sense of right and wrong. He didn’t want this friend to judge Lizzie or try to talk him out of correcting what he’d done. And Kit had enough on his shoulders anyway.
“I have an interest,” he said at last. “What man would not?”
“She is very pretty,” Kit conceded. “Has an interesting light to her, doesn’t she? And she seems to fit into the group. That’s always a consideration, I suppose, now that so many of our friends are married.”
Hugh nodded but said nothing to commit. If he did end up marrying Amelia, as her father required to break the prior engagement, it would be a good thing that she fit into the group of duchesses. But that left him no less troubled about the idea.
He didn’t even know her.
“Why are you so disturbed?” Kit pressed. “I see it all over your face.”
Hugh sighed. “It’s a very long story and not one I’ll bore you with. I appreciate the concern, though.” He clapped a hand on Kit’s shoulder and began to walk away.
“Where are you going?” Kit asked.
Hugh forced a smile over his shoulder. “To dance with the young lady. That’s what men do in these situations, isn’t it?”
Kit smiled at him, but as Hugh put his attention back on Amelia, his own expression fell. He felt no joy in what he was about to do. Not to the young lady, not to himself. But it was time to get it over with.
Amelia stood beside the dance floor. Thus far it had truly been a wonderful night. The Duchess of Crestwood was a wonderful woman, filled with warmth and welcome. She had swiftly been introduced to the group of Meg’s friends, ladies who laughingly referred to themselves as “The Duchesses,” for they were all married to dukes.
