Page 60 of How to Ruin a Rake

“But—” Claude pressed his lips together. He’d obviously heard more of the gossip than Max had anticipated. “Am I to accompany you, my lord?”

“Not this time.” Max regarded the steadily growing pile on the bed. “I suspect I’ll only be gone for a day or two.”

Allegra pushed tendrils of wet hair away from her face as she walked toward the house. She’d taken the dogs for a long walk, and the weather had turned just as she reached the farthest point of her route. She’d had to slog back through the rain, her skirts were caked with mud, and she probably looked like she’d been dragged through a hedge backward, as her nurse used to say.

She left the dogs in the kitchen and made her way through the entrance hall to the drawing room, where her mother and sister usually sat before going to dress for dinner.

“Sorry, I’m so wet!” Allegra said as she went in. “It started to—”

There were several people in the room she had not been expecting to see. Her father stood next to a tall man with the cold face of a statue, and beside her mother was …

She took a step back. “Please excuse me. I didn’t realize you were entertaining guests. I will go and make myself more presentable.”

The duke—at least, she assumed that’s who he was—was staring at her as if she’d been dredged up from the bottom of a bog. And Max—how on earth had he ended up in her house?—was looking equally distant and unnaturally still.

“This is my daughter, Allegra,” her father said, as if she hadn’t spoken. “May I present to you the Duke of Barfleur and his son, the Marquess of Blanchard.”

Allegra curtsied, painfully aware of the heaviness of her muddy skirts and that she wasn’t looking her best. “A pleasure, your grace, my lord. Please accept my apologies for my disheveled state. I was out walking my dogs and got caught in the rain.”

Allegra had no idea why she kept talking. She looked helplessly at her mother for a clue about how to proceed, but ended up shifting her gaze to Max, who wouldn’t even acknowledge her.

Thankfully, her mother came toward her with a smile. “Why don’t we go upstairs, and I’ll help you change for dinner, my dear? That will give the duke ample time to speak to your father.”

Allegra nodded and allowed her mother to link arms with her and lead her out of the drawing room. She waited until they were safely inside her bedchamber before she dared to speak.

“What is going on?”

Her mother regarded her with some amusement. “Apparently, your father and the duke have kept up a regular correspondence for years and consider themselves good friends.”

“What on earth could they have to correspond about?” Allegra asked as she attempted to take off her dress. “How could that even happen?”

“I believe it has something to do with obscure chamber music,” her mother said as she rang the bell for Allegra’s maid. When she arrived, she asked her to bring up hot water for a bath.

“This is a disaster,” Allegra muttered.

“I don’t know much else, because they only just arrived—completely unexpectedly,” her mother continued. “Why are you so jittery?”

“I don’t like unexpected guests.” Allegra sat down at her dressing table and attempted to take down her hair. If first impressions counted, she had made the worst one possible.

Her mother picked up the brush and started on the tangles, occasionally unearthing another pin, which she set on the dressing table.

“I know you, Allegra. Why would the Duke of Barfleur suddenly decide to bring his eldest son to meet a friend he hasn’t seen in years? There is far more to this than I yet understand. Would you care to enlighten me?”

“Not particularly.”

There was a knock on the door, and a procession of servants brought in the hot water and filled the bath set in front of the fire.

“Thank you,” her mother said. “Wear something nice for dinner, won’t you? It isn’t often that we have guests, let alone a duke and his heir.” She dropped a kiss on the top of Allegra’s head and headed for the door. “Just remember that whatever has happened, we will support you as a family.”

Allegra said nothing, because she hated to lie to her mother, and she didn’t understand what was going on. How likely was it that the duke and Max had turned up just to see her father? Not very. Had the duke seen the gossip in the newspapers and extracted a confession from Max? And what exactly might Max have confessed to? Knowing her? Seeing her at the inn?

Her mind was rioting with awful possibilities as she stepped into her bath, and none of them were good.

Dressed in her best evening gown, and with her hair curled into an elaborate mass of braids and curls, Allegra made her way down to the drawing room, her nerves jangling and her chest tight. To her relief, the only people in the room were Dorian, who was reading, and Postumus, who came toward her with a smile.

“You look very grand tonight, my lady. But perhaps it is because we are entertaining a duke?”

“That might have something to do with it.” Allegra allowed him to take her hand and kiss it. “One has to keep up appearances.”