“Thatwill never happen,” Char answered. Here, she could be honest.
“I don’t know him well.”
“You are wise.”
He sat back as if stunned by her bluntness. She feared she had broken one of those unwritten rules of Society Lady Baldwin nattered on about, that he was offended. If he was, that would be too bad. She would not apologize for disliking her selfish uncle.
And then the duke surprised her by laughing. It was a full, rich sound. Masculine and strong, and it filled the air. The others dining in the room with them all stared in their direction as if they had never heard him laugh before. Knowing smiles came to their faces.
Oblivious to the attention around him, Baynton leaned toward her. “I enjoy candor. Please, always speak your mind to me. I respect honesty. That and loyalty are the two virtues I demand from those around me.”
Oh dear.
“Tell me, Your Grace, how are your horses?” She’d grabbed that subject that Sarah had advised. The one it seemed all men were happy to discuss. And even though they had talked horses the other day, His Grace seemed to take delight in talking more about them. He spoke of the stables at his country estate, promising to invite her there.
“I would like that,” she said, because it was expected, and his smile said he was pleased.
She wasn’t. Their conversation in the supper room was stretching her nerves. He valued honesty.
If he continued pursuing her, well, sooner or later he might learn some truths that he would not appreciate, even without confessing the pickpocketing.
The duke was now talking about his family. She pretended to listen, her mind racked with guilt until he mentioned his twin.
Char looked up, unaware until that moment that she had been studying the pattern in the tablecloth. “Are you enjoying having him back in London?” she asked.
He tilted his empty wineglass. “Of course.” He didn’t sound happy. There was a pause. He set the glass aside, pinned her with his eyes. “My twin and I are very different men.”
“In what way?” Char had to ask.
“Almost every. His life had been the opposite of mine. He has even married.”
Whatever he said after that, and he did continue talking, Char did not hear.Whitridge was married.
She should not be upset by that information, but she was.
He’d not mentioned it to her. Then again, why should he?I caught you picking pockets and, by the way, I’m married.
No, that conversation would not have taken place, although she did believe that at some point Whitridge should have mentioned a wife. It was the decent thing to do... unless he was not and had never been interested in her.
While she had found him very interesting.
The music had started again. People began leaving the supper room to return to the dancing. Char wanted to go home.
Her enjoyment of the evening had vanished. She had the need to retreat to her bedroom, her sanctuary, to mull over the news about Whitridge. She tried not to let the duke see that anything was wrong. She was relieved when he suggested they return to the ballroom.
They had just gone out the door when a gentleman came up to them. “Your Grace, here you are. We’ve been looking for you.” He leaned close to the duke’s ear but Char could overhear him say, “Perceval wishes to talk with you in the library.”
Baynton drew a deep breath as if annoyed and yet could not say no. He said to Char, “I must step away for a bit. Let me take you to Lady Baldwin.”
She nodded, even though she was ready to leave. She was not accustomed to late nights or disappointing news. She prided herself on not complaining.
He delivered her to the dowager. Lady Baldwin was nowhere to be seen. She had probably gone to the card room.
With a promise that he would hurry back, the duke left to meet with the prime minister.
Her Grace was in a deep conversation with two women whom she introduced as old friends. The set for the dancing had already started. Several men looked her way as if interested in asking her for the next set, but Char avoided their eyes. She was not in the mood to dance. She needed to clear her head. She needed air—especially when she saw Whitridge on the dance floor. She wondered if his partner, a buxom lass, knew he was married.
Char whispered to the dowager that she was going in search of the necessary room set aside for the ladies’ use. The dowager nodded and Char slipped away, moving instead toward a door leading to the portico outside.
