Her dance card had been full because of devoted husbands and admiring gentlemen who treated her with the utmost respect. Almost an hour had passed, yet Dorian had not appeared. All the same, she was not lacking for enjoyment.
The last dance partner she’d had mentioned a summer fair coming to the outskirts of London, and she fully intended to bring it up to Dorian when he was free.
“Your Grace,” another lord bowed. “May I have this next dance?”
“I appreciate the offer, my lord,” she said kindly. “But I ought to rest my feet for a while.”
The twenty-piece orchestra started the waltz, and many ladies and gentlemen who had hovered watching others play now swept onto the dance floor.
Ellie’s eyes lifted to the doorway—just as Benedict walked back into the ballroom.
CHAPTER 21
Evelina waited for Benedict Rothwell, the Baron of Eastbrook, to make his rounds, greeting those he deemed imperative to acknowledge. Smoothly, she took two glasses off the tray of a passing waiter and strode decisively over to him while he stood away from the dance floor.
He walked over to a walled concave alcove that was under the grand staircase. As both ends of the alcove were out in the open, she deemed herself safe.
Victoria was not with him, and Ellie was not sure if she preferred it to be that way or not. Still, she summoned a maid to stand by her.
At the edge of the alcove, she began, “Ben—” but she stopped. It was scandalous to call a lord by his given name, wasn’t it? Despite her friendship with his sister and their prior, less formal meetings, she was a Duchess now and ought to behave as one.
Offering him the glass, she instead said, “Lord Eastbrook. Do you have a moment?”
Benedict looked as if he wished to be anywhere but there, but she knew he was too polite to refuse her. Bowing, he replied, “I am at your disposal, Your Grace.”
Cognizant of the inquisitive—and searing—gazes of the onlookers, Ellie notched her head up. “What is your side of the story?”
Instantly, his face fell. She knew he had caught onto what she meant. He threw back half of his drink and rubbed his eyes with his right thumb and forefinger. His eyes were closed, and his tone quiet but hard. “Your Grace, are you sure about this?”
“I wouldn’t have asked if I did not feel it imperative to know,” she replied.
He dropped his hand. “This is a conversation that cannot be held here, not in depth, that is. To be fair, Beaumont does have reason to think that I am a part of why he lost his fortune and his good name. But I had no part in it.”
Ellie knew there was a disconnect, Dorian had not gone into specifics, and here Benedict was doing the same. What from Dorian’s perspective made him think his friend had betrayed him—and thus elicited in him trust issues that still plagued him to this day? And what had truly happened for Benedict to see the opposite?
She shook her head. “You are still not telling me much.”
“Your Grace—”
“Please, Benedict,” she said softly, then hovered her hand near his arm. “I am asking as Evelina, your friend, not a Duke’s wife. Please tell me what happened, in detail, that has made my husband so cautious and wary around not only yourself but all others in his life.”
He exhaled once more. His voice was low and firm now. “We were… ten, I believe? Beaumont’s family and mine were friends from our grandparents’ time. We even attended Eton together. After he lost his mother, his father took a steady decline, and more responsibilities landed on Beaumont’s shoulders.”
“That does not explain his—”
“Uncle, I know,” Benedict continued. “I am working up to that. For almost two weeks in August, heading to the new semester of Eton, his father took a swift turn and began ranting and raving about the most madcap things.
“During that time, his uncle had found a loophole in the particulars of the ducal leadership. The line was about the oldest male relative taking control of the Dukedom, regardless of the line of succession. It was a line that provided for continued, albeit transient control in the instance a Duke was ill, mentally or physically.”
Ellie rocked on her heels as she tried to leap ahead of his story; how was it that Dorian had gotten tricked?
“Wouldn’t you need a lunacy inquisition—”
The hairs suddenly lifted on her skin; even though she’d heard no footsteps, she knewhewas there. Evelina could not explain how or when she’d gained such an intense connection with Dorian that she could sense his presence, but the rapid tattoo of her heartbeat spoke volumes.
She whipped around to find him there, golden hellfire blazed in his eyes as he glared at Benedict.
Her throat squeezed. “Dorian. I was only—”
