“But not for why she would write to me seeking my help.”
They were guided among the gathered guests. From the noise, or lack thereof, there were a select handful only. The hall echoed with their chatter, rather than being filled by it as it would for a larger company. Georgia made pleasant small talk to all to whom she was introduced, while Keaton beamed and directed his eyes wherever a voice addressed him.
The effort of playing the sighted man with every sense was exhausting. He remained quiet over dinner, allowing his wife to carry their share of conversations, and found himself drifting in and out of the talk.
“I think we have missed out on a great dinner companion until now. Why haven’t we met you socially before, Your Grace?” came the chuckle of a young man.
“I simply have been somewhat retiring,” Georgia replied, a laugh in her voice. She was sitting across from Keaton and had clearly been addressed by someone sitting nearby.
“Well, pray to shake off that habit now. This has been a delightful evening!” said the lordling's voice again.
Keaton's ears sharpened, his attention focusing. The voice was young but deep and assured.
“I believe my husband and I are planning to be much more active socially in the near future,” Georgia added.
Keaton could hear the tension in her voice. It was the sound of contained excitement, of that he was sure. His level of alertness increased, and he filtered out the rest of the table's babble in favor of this conversation.
To whom is she speaking? And why with such an excited temperament?
“There are many activities these days that might require a stand-in for the Duke,” the young man said, a smile evident in his voice.
Keaton ground his teeth, imagining the leering quality to that smile. His hand tightened on a knife he held.
“Whatever do you mean?” Georgia asked breathlessly after a pause.
Does she flirt? Is that what I hear in her voice? She knows that I contemplate ending this sham of a marriage—could it be that she already seeks a replacement!
Keaton’s thoughts were a tempest. He swayed like a weather vane in a storm. One moment, he had no doubt that he washearing the flirtation of two people mutually attracted, and the next, he questioned his own interpretation.
“Riding in Hyde Park is all the rage at the moment. Or touring the new National Gallery. Or even rowing on the Serpentine,” the young man continued, “I would hate for you to miss out because of your husband's affliction.”
“Are you offering your own services, Lord Hale?” Georgia laughed.
“I am indeed. I stand ready, night or day.”
Keaton snarled in his throat and felt a firm grip on his bicep.
“Calm, Your Grace. Calm. Remember why we are here,” Edric murmured for his ears alone.
Keaton bit back what he had been about to say to Lord Hale and tore his arm free of his uncle’s restraining grip.
“Kindly, look to your hosting duties, Uncle. I need no advice.”
He had lost the thread of the conversation Georgia was having. He tried to recover it, to find her voice in the myriad around him. But when he did, she was no longer talking to Lord Hale but, instead, answered the questions of an elderly sounding lady. He did not care to recall her name. After eating, the men were invited to partake of brandy and cigars in the billiard room.
Keaton demurred, citing the need for a breath of fresh air before immersing himself in a fog of cigar smoke and brandy fumes. He followed his memory from the room and heard soft footsteps trailing him. Leaving the sound of male voices and the clack of billiard balls behind, he strolled along a corridor, listening for the echo in his wake.
The gentle waft of a familiar perfume reached him as he paused for a moment.
So she follows me after flirting with Lord Hale, doubtless a handsome man. Or perhaps someone she already knew. An ongoing assignation?
He turned a corner and stopped, waiting, listening to the footfalls getting closer and closer. Then, they too stopped. A door opened in the distance, and a male voice chuckled, “There you are! I wondered where you had got to.”
It was Lord Hale, and his answer was a soft, wordless laugh. Husky, feminine, and filled with promise.
“I will not be missed for a time,” Hale said in a conspiratorial voice.
The sound of another door opening reached Keaton, and the light footsteps that he had taken to be Georgia’s retreated in that direction. Another laugh, and the door closed again.
