Page 98

“I’m sure you can spare a few moments for such a lovely plant enthusiast!” Lady Featherstone nudged the girl forward. “Go on, Cornelia, dear.”

Lovely plant enthusiast? That was doing it a bit brown. What in the world were the two of them doing here? Why weren’t they at the ball like the rest of his guests?

Unless … of course!

Somehow, Lady Featherstone had discovered he was the Duke of Hawthorne, and now she was trying to thrust her daughter upon him.

And at the same time, Stella had gone mysteriously missing.

It couldn’t be a coincidence.

He took a step toward Lady Featherstone, his hands clenched into fists. “What have you done with Stella, Lady Featherstone?”

“Stella?” Her eyes widened innocently. “I assure you, sir, I haven’t the vaguest notion what you’re talking about.”

“Stella, Lady Featherstone. Your lady’s maid. Where is she?”

“I don’t see what difference it makes.” Lady Featherstone raised her chin. “Estella is of no consequence.”

“She is of great consequence to me, madam.”

Lady Featherstone drew herself up with a huff. “Very well, if you must know, I’ve locked her in her bedchamber! The girl is a liar and a thief, and I won’t have her—”

“The key.” He held out his hand. “Give it to me, or I’ll see you and your daughter escorted from my castle at once.”

Lady Featherstone’s mouth dropped open. “There’s no need to be—”

“The key to the attic chamber, Lady Featherstone. I won’t ask you again.”

Lady Featherstone’s face twisted with anger, but he was the duke, and this was his castle. There was little she could do but hand over the key.

“Very well. Since you insist upon it, Your Grace.” She reached into her reticule, snatched up the key and dropped it into his palm. “You’ll soon find out your mistake. There’s nothing special about Estella. She’s as common as—”

“You promised me, Mamma,” Cornelia interrupted. Her lip was trembling, and her cheeks had turned a rather startling shade of red.

Lady Featherstone rounded on her daughter. “Promised you what, you silly girl?”

“That I would become a duchess! You said if we came to Scotland, I would become the Duchess of Hawthorne!”

“For pity’s sake, will you hush, Cornelia? Wait, Your Grace!”

But Gabriel had had enough of Lady Featherstone’s games, and he didn’t wait. He brushed past them without a second glance. He had to get to Stella at once.

Behind him, Cornelia let out a deafening wail, but he didn’t stop. The girl was always wailing about something.

“I insist you stop at once, Your Grace!” Lady Featherstone’s voice had risen to a hysterical pitch, and she chased after him, dragging Cornelia with her. “My child has been stung by a bee!”

Gabriel turned back to them with a sigh. “Cease that infernal screeching, Miss Cornelia. Loud noises disturb the bees.”

“It’s too late for that!” Phillippa snapped. “Why, just look at her!”

Cornelia had been stung near her right eye. Her eyelid had turned bright red, and the side of her face was beginning to swell.

As far as Miss Cornelia Featherstone was concerned, the Christmas ball was over, along with any chance she may have had to marry a duke.

Perhaps the chit had finally learned her lesson. “Take Miss Cornelia to her bedchamber. On your way, ask one of the housemaids to bring a cloth and a basin of cold water to your rooms. The compress will bring the swelling down.”

“That’s it? That’s all you have to say?” Lady Featherstone stamped her foot. “What sort of gentleman keeps bees in his conservatory? I demand to know what you intend to do about this!”