Page 65 of The Wedding-Crashing Duchess

“Yes.”

Ronan inhaled slowly, clearly deciding whether arguing further would require more energy than simply allowing Gregory to remain.

Before he could speak, a quiet knock sounded at the door.

Both men turned.

Ronan became still for the briefest moment, and then he said, “Come in.”

The door opened, and Augusta stepped into the study.

She wore a pale day dress, while one hand rested lightly against the edge of the door as though she had not expected Ronan to have company. Her attention moved first to Gregory and then to Ronan, and when their eyes met, she hesitated.

The memory of the previous evening passed between them without either acknowledging it.

Ronan saw again the colour rising across her cheeks, the abrupt way she had left the sitting room, and the startled expression she had worn when his hand touched her forehead. He had spent far too long wondering whether she had truly felt unwell, although she appeared perfectly healthy now.

Augusta’s gaze dropped briefly, then returned to him, while her fingers tightened around the small paper she carried.

“I am sorry,” she said, and although her voice remained composed, there was an awkwardness beneath it that had not existed before. “I did not realize you had a visitor, and I can return later if this is not a convenient moment.”

“You do not need to leave,” Ronan replied at once, and then he became aware that Gregory was watching him with unbearable interest. “You wanted to ask me something.”

“It concerns Sarah,” Augusta said, taking one step farther into the room. “There is no urgency, although I wished to ask before I spoke to the staff since it affects a small change in her routine and I thought you might prefer to know first.”

Ronan’s attention settled on her face.

“What change?”

Augusta glanced towards Gregory again.

“It can wait.”

Gregory rose from the chair before Ronan could respond, and he placed one hand over his chest with an exaggerated formality that immediately made Ronan regret allowing him into the house.

“Since Ravenhill appears determined to leave us standing in the same room without the benefit of names, I shall introduce myself,” Gregory said as he bowed. “Gregory Welby, Duke of Brawnhite, longtime friend of your husband, unwilling recipient of most of his bad temper, and the guest who will be joining you for dinner this evening.”

Augusta looked from Gregory to Ronan.

“You are staying for dinner?”

Ronan’s jaw tightened.

“He invited himself.”

Gregory straightened. “That is an ungenerous description of a discussion in which your husband found himself unable to refuse me.”

“I refused you several times,” Ronan said.

“And yet I remain,” Gregory replied. “Which means the refusal lacked either conviction or practical effect.”

Augusta’s brows lifted slightly, and although she attempted to conceal it, Ronan saw amusement enter her expression.

“I see,” she said. “I had thought we would be dining alone tonight, although naturally you are welcome to join us, Your Grace.”

There was nothing accusing in her tone, yet Ronan felt an inexplicable need to explain himself.

“Gregory was determined to meet you,” he said, speaking more quickly than he intended. “He decided that waiting for an invitation was unnecessary, and once he announced his intention to remain, refusing him became more troublesome than allowing it.”