It felt like I was following two soldiers going to war, and perhaps I was.
The crowd split for a moment and I finally had the opportunity to see the man they had set their sights on.
And I was astonished.
He was handsome—breathtakingly attractive—with jet black hair and matching black eyes. And he was tall, towering over Louise and Mrs. Garfield, with a muscular frame and a commanding demeanor. But there was something dark and brooding about his countenance. He didn’t seem shy—but reserved or, better yet, aloof. As if he didn’t want to be here but was forcing himself to be in attendance.
His hooded gaze met mine and I felt frozen to the floor, though it wasn’t exactly fear that held me there. Curiosity made me wantto know more about him, yet a sense of foreboding made me leery of what I might discover.
A scar sliced across his left cheekbone and disappeared into his hairline, but it did not diminish his good looks. On the contrary, it added to his allure and mystique.
He didn’t look back at Louise or Mrs. Garfield as we approached, and they slowly faded into the crowd again, though I knew they wouldn’t go far.
“Your Grace,” Lady Mandeville said with a curtsey, “may I present to you Mrs. Edmund Hill and her niece, Miss Clara Day Hill?”
Aunt Maude and I curtseyed as the duke dipped his head in acknowledgment.
“How do you do?” I asked him.
“How do you do?” His voice was low and rich, with a bit of a gravelly sound to it.
“Mrs. Hill and Clara have just arrived from New York,” Lady Mandeville continued. “And were presented to Her Majesty, the Queen today. Queen Victoria commented on Clara’s beauty, though I am not surprised.”
My cheeks grew warm as the duke studied me, saying nothing.
“We were so pleased to hear you had come to London for the season,” Lady Mandeville continued. “It has been years since you’ve been here, has it not?”
“I have not been to London since I was a child,” the duke said, finally pulling his gaze away from me.
“And your parents?” Lady Mandeville frowned. “I don’t believe I ever had the pleasure of meeting them.”
“They’ve both been dead for fifteen years.”
Lady Mandeville lost her composure at his forthright words. “Well—I suppose I’ve only been in England for a decade, so I wouldn’t have had that opportunity.”
He didn’t speak again, and we stood there awkwardly until Aunt Maude ventured to ask, “Have you been to New York, Your Grace?”
“No.”
It was clear he didn’t want to be here and was trying to use his bad mood to push us away, but I’d faced harsher people in Five Points, and I wasn’t afraid of him.
“Would you like to visit New York someday?” I asked.
He looked at me and said, “No.”
“Your home must be an extraordinary place if this is the first time you’ve been to London in years,” I said, “and you have no wish to go abroad. You must tell me about it sometime.”
“Do you dance, Your Grace?” Lady Mandeville tried again. “Clara has several dances available—”
“No, I do not dance.”
“Well,” I said, “what do you do?”
It felt impertinent, but if he was going to be rude, I could be rude.
Something flickered in his eyes—respect? Did no one ever challenge him?
“I like to study maps, Miss Hill.”
