“I know, Marcia, I know,” Eleanor responded, a little snappishly.
Lord Richard Grenville also owned a pottery business and was their rival in more ways than one. Of course, there was room in the pottery business for them both, but Lord Richard didn’t seem to believe that. He had the advantage of a title and an estate, which seemed to lessen the stain oftrade.
Just as she was hoping that the man hadn’t noticed her, he glanced across the table and met her eye squarely. His smile widened, and he lifted his wine glass – newly refilled – in her direction, as a sort of toast.
She was forced to smile, tight-lipped, showing no teeth. He seemed to sense her discomfort, and doubtless enjoyed it. He grinned, taking a generous sip of wine, and then turned back to the poor debutante, who hardly knew where to look or what to do with her knife and fork.
Eleanor briefly entertained the fantasy of throwing a glass at the man’s head.
“I’m sure he’ll be just as keen to avoid us as we are to avoid him,” she said to Marcia. As she spoke, her gaze drifted up the table again, to where Henry sat.
He was already looking at her, but as soon as their eyes met, he looked away.
Chapter Nine
Nine months. They had nine months left to marry or lose their fortunes forever.
It was as if there was a ticking clock in William’s head, hands gradually counting down the minutes until time ran out altogether, and they were left trapped. Trapped, poor, and frustrated.
Conversation bloomed all around William, the other party guests chatting and laughing between themselves. Everybody was having a good time, it seemed.
Well, noteverybody. Henry sat opposite with a face like thunder. He seemed remarkably sour for a man sitting beside Miss Sophia Redford, the Diamond of the Season and a shockingly beautiful girl. She was too young and silly for William’s taste, but that didn’t mean the widow his mother had chosen was any better.
Lady Victoria Hayward sat on William’s right, leaning just a little too close. She had been a real beauty in her first Season or two and had married some baronet or other. She was now morebeautifulthan pretty, with strong features and the assured air of somebody who always got her way.
The Dowager Duchess of Dunleigh, William’s mother, had had a hand in the seating arrangements, which was why Henry was sitting next to Miss Sophia and William was beside Lady Victoria. Alexander was sandwiched between a pair of dour matrons, which was probably for the best, all things considered. The man was already half-drunk. William would need to keep an eye on him as the night progressed – any misbehavior or scandal would reflect directly onhim, the current Duke of Dunleigh.
“Your Grace?”
It took William a full minute to realize that Lady Victoria was speaking tohim.
“I’m sorry, what were you saying?” he said at once, jerking himself out of his reverie and turning to face her. Manners were everything. Everybody was looking at him. He was the youngest Duke of Dunleigh anybody had ever heard of, and the youngest Duke in Society by at least a couple of decades. Everybody was watching him, and he could afford no missteps.
“I was saying,” Lady Victoria said, with an air of strained patience, “That you must miss your dear papa so very much.”
William missed a beat. “Yes, of course I do. His loss is felt keenly.”
That wasn’ttechnicallya lie – the old Duke’s losswasfelt keenly, but not in a bad way.
“When I lost my papa,” Lady Victoria continued, “I shut myself up from Society for a full year and a half. It drove my husband wild. However, I admire those who can persevere, and simply get on with their lives. Like Lady Katherine, marrying so soon. And all of you gentlemen here tonight.Persevering.”
William eyed her, trying to work out whether she was sniping at him or not. Aside from the long wait after the funeral, when they had to wait for Henry to return from his travels to have the will read, he and his siblings had not had the leisure to sit and grieve. They’d had a year to get themselves down the aisle, or live destitute.
Not a year. Nine months, now.
The familiar feeling of dread bubbled up in William’s gut, and he swallowed hard, trying to ignore it. He couldn’t even excuse himself from the table or go home early. Every detail of what he did would be observed and recorded. The gossip columns were having a wonderful time with the Willenshire family. William firmly told his family to ignore it all, and then secretly bought copies of all the scandal sheets and gossip columns to read himself in his study.
“I found that it helped to recall particularly poignant memories with my papa,” Lady Victoria was saying now. “Happier times, you know? I’m sure you have a veritable library of happy memories with yours.”
William pressed his lips into a thin line. Shecouldn’tbe mocking him now. The old Duke had presented a carefully curated face to the world, seeming to be a strict yet fair papa, and a firm but loving husband.
Lies, lies, and more lies.
“Oh, yes,” he managed. “So many I am quite spoiled.”
Lady Victoria beamed, and thankfully did not require an example. She turned to her other side, talking to the lady there, and William had the leisure to look down at his food again.
The most vivid memory of their father, in William’s recollection, was the last one.
