Page 35 of Lavender’s Lost Duke

Miss Dalrymple’s eyebrows rose on her forehead in shock. “Very well. What have you discovered about our missing duke?” she asked.

Shrugging, Lavender looked out at the crowd. “Not much. Only that he had a tendency to drink, but not become angry. It sounds like his servants were treated well.” She thought back on her conversation with Tom. “I didn’t realize he lost his father so young.”

Miss Dalrymple let out a huff. “Really, I expected more of you.”

It was the first time this Season that Lavender had sensed the tone of competition glaring out from her words, reminding Lavender of their families' well-mannered battles. Even though Meredith Dalrymple was only a couple years her elder, she sounded like Mrs. Dalrymple at that moment. It was obvious that she was disappointed in the information, or lack thereof, but Lavender wasn’t going to start making stories up in order to please her. “I do hope you get to the bottom of your case soon.”

“Yes, well,” Miss Dalrymple turned to leave. “That’s not likely unless I get some new information.” She looked down her nose at Lavender. “Enjoy the ball.” She walked off and Lavender had the distinct feeling that something between them was changed. The fragile friendship they’d begun to create was not strong enough to withstand volatility like this. It seemed that—once again—Lavender was failing to bring peace to the people around her.

She’d been failing at that particular endeavor quite often lately, and most often with herself. Her mother had hoped to raise a peacemaker . . . and Lavender felt like she’d just brought about more contention.

All at once, she had no interest in the ball. She hugged the wall, escaping the large room and finding an empty corridor. She didn’t care where she ended up so long as it was away from the masses of bodies crushed together. After traversing the darkened corridor for a spell, she turned the knob on an ornate door and let herself inside. There were a few candles lit on sconces that lit the space, and Lavender felt an incredible weight lift from her shoulders.

A library.

It wasn’t what would be in the grand estates of the country, but floor to ceiling on one wall was stuffed full of books. Two sofas faced each other in the center of the room, but aside from that there was no other furniture in the space. Lavender walked along the book wall and allowed her finger to trail along the spines of the books as she inhaled the scent of paper and dust. A book on physics caught her eye, and she made herself comfortable on the sofa. Perhaps if she allowed herself to read just a few pages, it would be enough to settle her nerves after her encounter with Miss Dalrymple.

“Has my ball been so awful that you’ve gone into hiding?” a low male voice came from the doorway.

Lavender adjusted herself to be sitting upright as she looked at Lord Chilcott. “Forgive me, my lord. I only meant to sit down for a moment. Shall we return to your guests?” She stood up, feeling guilty for being here, but he closed the door behind him and walked slowly toward her.

“There is no rush, Lady Lavender.”

But there was a rush—she could not be found alone with him. “I’m afraid the duchess might feel differently. I don’t want to cause her any alarm.”

“You have only been in here for five minutes; she can wait a little longer before she even suspects you are trying to cry off on the ball altogether.” He put a hand on her arm, standing close beside her.

Five minutes wasn’t so terrible. She often lost herself in books for hours at a time without realizing how long it had been. “Well, in that case, I am glad you found me so quickly.” She looked down at his hand, still holding onto her arm, then looked back at his face.

A look shadowed his blue eyes that Lavender couldn’t interpret, but she broke out in gooseflesh as if she’d been dumped into a cellar. She wiggled to extricate herself from his hold. “Lady Lavender,” he let her arm go, to her great relief, “If it is respite you require, allow me to be of service.” He put his arms out wide and flashed her a brilliant smile. A smile that she didn't trust one little bit.

“I do not require anything from you, Lord Chilcott.” She stood up and faced the exit, not liking that the door was closed tightly.

“Ah, but my lady, I am still awaiting your answer as to our growing relationship.” He loomed beside her. “I have been waiting these two days. Surely, you don’t intend to leave here before you give me your answer.”

Lavender smiled to buy herself some time. She didn’t want to accept his suit at all. The man is a jackanapes. Tom’s voice filtered through her thoughts. She didn’t like the gleam in Lord Chilcott’s eyes. But how to escape the situation without calling attention to their compromising position? “I have been thinking on your idea.” She took small steps toward the door, and he followed, right at her elbow. “I believe we ought to take it a bit slower and get to know each other before we make any intentions known.”

Lord Chilcott placed a hand at the small of her back and pulled her close to his side. “I don’t mind taking things slow.”

Lavender tensed under his too-familiar touch. His idea of taking things slow was apparently quite different from hers. “Lovely.” she put a hand on his chest and pushed away from him. “Perhaps we can get an ice sometime and simply talk?”

Lightning flashed in his eyes, but he allowed her to leave the room half at a run. There was no peace to be found tonight, especially in that particular library. She found Miriam in the retiring room searching for her.

“Lavender,” she said, extending both her arms out to her. She pulled her in close and dropped her voice to a whisper. “Miss Dalrymple asked me where you’d gone off to, and I’ve been looking everywhere for you the past quarter of an hour. Is everything alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Miriam’s eyes bounced back and forth between Lavender’s, searching for an answer.

They were beginning to garner attention from the other ladies in the room. “I do feel a little out of sorts tonight. Perhaps I can take the carriage home?”

Miriam nodded beside her. “Yes, I’m feeling a little low tonight as well. Let’s go get my husband.”

They left the powder room arm in arm. Much to Lavender’s mortification, Miriam’s husband, the Duke of Gilfordshire, was speaking with Lord Chilcott. “Ah, Lady Lavender,” the duke said. “Lord Chilcott was just looking for you.”

Lavender dipped a curtsey. “I apologize, Your Grace. I haven’t been feeling quite right.”

“Nor have I,” Miriam joined in. “Please do forgive our early departure, Lord Chilcott.”

Lord Chilcott stepped forward, took Lavender’s hand and bowed over it, bestowing a kiss on her white glove. “Allow me to see you out.”

Miriam caught Lavender’s eye and winked, obviously pleased with the situation. “Thank you, my lord. We will follow shortly.”