He kissed her again without replying.
HIS WIFE WAS BRIGHT-EYED AND APPEARED FEVERISH, the Duke of Ridgeway saw later that evening, although she was playing the game of charades with all their guests with a great deal of laughter and enthusiasm. The game had become decidedly bawdy as time went on.
The outing to Wollaston and the constant activity of the last several days, including the ball and the excitement over his brother’s return, were proving too much for her, though she was not admitting it, perhaps even to herself. But he knew her well enough to know that her fragile health could not take such a hectic pace of living for much longer without breaking down.
He wondered if it was obvious to all their guests that Sybil and Thomas were fonder of each other than one might expect of a sister- and brother-in-law. He supposed that it must be. Certainly Shaw had ceased his marked attentions to her and was directing his gallantries toward Victoria Underwood that evening.
The duke supposed that no one would be particularly scandalized even if they had noticed. As he had suspected before he came home from London, his wife’s guests were not a group renowned for propriety and restraint. Sidney had informed him earlier that a poor chambermaid had beenbewildered to find Lady Mayberry in Grantsham’s bed that morning and Mrs. Grantsham in Mayberry’s.
He watched the scene about him rather grimly. Good breeding dictated that he continue to act the courteous and amiable host despite all. He could not possibly do what he dearly wished to do and get to his feet to make the public announcement that the gathering would be at an end the next morning.
The thought afforded him the only glimmering of amusement he had felt all evening.
Sometimes—just sometimes—he wished that he had not been born to a privileged and decadent class. But he wondered if any class was totally different if one just knew the truth. Perhaps people were people wherever one looked.
The duchess, flushed and laughing, sat down on a love seat.
“You always were wonderfully clever at charades, Thomas,” she said, smiling up at him until he seated himself beside her. “I am very glad I was of your team. Now we need something quiet and soothing to calm us down.”
“I could think of something without even trying,” Sir Hector Chesterton said.
Her grace reached out to tap him sharply on the arm with her fan. “I said quiet and soothing, you naughty man,” she said. “Who can sing? Walter?”
“No breath, I do assure you, Sybil,” that gentleman said. “Let one of the ladies play us a sonata.”
“Not I,” Mrs. Runstable said. “I am quite hagged.”
“I make it a practice,” Lady Mayberry said, “to be out of practice whenever I am from home.”
Laughter greeted her words.
“It seems that my suggestion was not such a foolish one after all,” Sir Hector said, seating himself on the arm of the chair occupied by Mrs. Runstable.
“Music is the soul of love,” the duchess said, smiling and wafting one delicate arm in the air. “Give me music, do.”
“How I wish I could sing,” Lord Thomas said, taking her hand and carrying it to his lips.
“I know of someone who can play like an angel,” Lord Brocklehurst said, “and who is not at all hagged from playing charades all night.”
His grace felt an uncomfortable premonition and shifted in his chair as Sir Philip Shaw yawned delicately behind a hand.
“And who is this paragon of endless energy?” he asked.
“Miss Hamilton, the governess,” Lord Brocklehurst said.
“Ah.” Sir Philip fixed him with a languid gaze. “So you have a prior acquaintance with the damsel, do you, Brocklehurst, you lucky devil? And even succeeded in discovering that she plays like an angel? Ah, the pianoforte, I assume you mean? Let us have her down by all means, Sybil.”
“It is late,” the duke said. “Miss Hamilton is quite possibly in bed.”
“Is she, by Jove?” Sir Philip said. “Your suggestion begins to sound more attractive by the minute, Chesterton.”
“We do not like to keep our servants busy beyond their working hours,” the duchess said.
“But, Sybil, Sybil.” Lord Thomas reached for her hand again. “If Miss Hamilton plays like an angel and if it will give Bradshaw pleasure to hear her play, then you really should humor your guest. And if she is in bed, Adam, then you must cancel morning lessons for Pamela and allow her governess to catch up on her sleep. Nothing could be simpler. Bradshaw, pull the bell rope beside you, my dear chap. We will have the governess sent for.”
It must be close to midnight, the duke thought as restrained applause greeted his brother’s suggestion. Perhaps he should have spoken his protest more firmly. But it was too late. Thomas was giving instructions to Jarvis.
Fifteen minutes passed before the doors opened again to admit Fleur. Such a length of time suggested that she had indeed been in bed.
