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Turning her nose in the air, Astrid stalked away, leaving a small trail of water behind her as her skirts dragged on the floor.

“I am going to change,” she announced, leading the way rather than following behind everyone this time.

Laughing, Mei turned to follow and caught the Duke of Bolton’s gaze as he stared back at her. Sudden warmth flushed through her as she realized that the wetness of her garments meant that they were clinging to her in a way the aoqun could not. English dresses were much less voluminous and more form-fitting, and when they were wet… She might as well be wearing breeches for the way her skirts were clinging to her leg.

Ducking her head, she went to follow after Astrid along with the others, feeling the duke’s gaze on her the whole way.

Sebastian

Out of his wet clothing and into a nice dry alternative, Sebastian made his way to the card room.

“Sebastian! What ho, we’re going to play some billiards, would you like to join us?” Gregory grinned as he paused at the intersection of the hallways, Miss Fenley’s father, Lady Darcy’s father, and Nathanial at his side.

“Thank you, but I rather suspect my sister would prefer I come to cards,” he replied. Truthfully, that was where he preferred to be as well because he was hoping to at least be able to inform Tiffany that he wanted to speak privately with her, even if they could not do so immediately.

“Suit yourself,” Gregory replied genially, and Sebastian nodded, keenly aware of the looks he was receiving from the older gentlemen. Another reason to choose the card room—as both fathers knew their daughters had been invited to meet Sebastian, he would rather remain with the larger group rather than giving them such an opportunity to press their cases.

As Sebastian was making his way to the card room, he was distracted by the sound of someone in the front of the house and diverted his route there. Tiffany had already arrived and was greeting a gentleman, a noble by his bearing, though his clothes were soaked through and water was still dripping down his Hessian boots.

“I am dreadfully sorry, Your Grace,” the man was saying, taking off his hat and gratefully accepting a towel that was offered to him by a footman. “I was on my way to London, and I did know Isabella had been invited here this weekend, and I had the thought that I might see how she was faring, but I did not mean to invade your house party.”

His face, his voice, his reference to Isabella by her given name… Sebastian’s heart sank in his chest. Blast the man, did he have to put his nose in everywhere?

“Think nothing of it, Your Grace,” Tiffany replied sweetly. “Please, you must stay the night at least, and you are more than welcome to join us for the rest of the party. I fear our numbers are a bit uneven and another gentleman would help.”

That and it would be the height of rudeness for her to turn away a guest whose travel had been impacted by the weather. Especially a noble one.

The Duke of Northumberland, who had attained his title upon Sinclair’s death, smiled in gratitude at Tiffany as he accepted her invitation, looking quite pleased with himself. From how he spoke of Isabella, he was obviously aware that she had been invited and decided to attend the house party. Sebastian would not have put it past him to decide to rely on Tiffany and Gregory’s good manners to extend an invitation if he appeared on their doorstep.

Just looking at him made Sebastian’s jaw clench. He was not a bad man, but he had taken Sinclair’s title. Even more, he seemed to think that he should take Sinclair’s place within the circle of the Tragic Dukes, but by the time Sinclair was lost at sea, they’d already bonded over far more than their fathers’ untimely deaths.

The new Northumberland had never quite seemed to understand that.

His presence was going to be particularly painful for Zachary, who was surely going through enough already.

Sebastian melted back into the hallway, back into the shadows, so he did not have to greet the man. He wanted to make sure he got to the card room as quickly as possible so he could forewarn Zachary, and the others, of Northumberland’s unexpected arrival.

16

Mei

The Duke of Bolton arrived in the card room and came to a halt, looking around at those assembled. About half the company was already there, and a game of whist had been started by the Dowager Duchess of Clarence, who was playing with Lady Turner, Lady Alexander, and Mrs. Fenley. Mei felt his gaze glance to her for a long moment before moving on and was very happy she was back in her comfortable aoqun, much to Jocelyn’s dismay.

She’d argued that it was warm and cozy, and the maid had reluctantly agreed, although she’d insisted on fixing Mei’s hair. Not that Mei should care what the duke thought of her hair, but she was glad of the maid’s conviction when his gaze traveled over her.

For her part, Mei had sat down at a table with Rose, Kalina, and Lady Annabelle, ensuring that the four of them would make up a game.

None of his prospective brides had arrived yet—Mei could only assume they were ensuring that their appearances were up to snuff after the rain. None of them would want to appear at a disadvantage to each other.

It did not appear as though the duke was looking for any of them, though. As soon as his gaze alighted on the Duke of Grafton, who was standing by the window with his pet monkey on his shoulder, Bolton started moving. Grafton was staring out the window, chatting with the Duke of Ormonde as they watched the rain. Mei watched Bolton approach as the other two men turned to greet him.

“I wonder what that is about,” Kalina remarked, turning to look at them as well. Rose looked up from where she was shuffling the cards in front of her, turning to see what Kalina was talking about.

“Mmm, it appears serious,” Rose said. “Which means we are unlikely to hear about it anytime soon.”

Kalina scowled. “Blast. I wish Nathanial had not decided to play billiards. I could inveigle him to tell me what they are talking about.” She looked over at Lady Annabelle, who flushed as pink as the dress she was wearing, which was several shades lighter than Kalina’s pink gown. “Do you think Grafton will tell you?”

“I do not know,” Lady Annabelle admitted, peeking over at her fiancé, whose expression had turned to granite. He was focused on whatever Bolton was saying and did not seem to notice that he was being observed. “We… I do not know.”