“Goodnight, Yer Grace,” Elspeth called with a small wave.
“Goodnight, my dear.” The Dowager Duchess waved back. “I will call on you soon.”
Elspeth looked at Hugo, a small, triumphant smile playing on her lips.
“Grandmother,” Hugo called, “would it be much trouble to drop Lady Inverhall off at the townhouse on your way home?”
“Well, no,” the Dowager Duchess replied with a raised eyebrow. “Of course not. But why ever would I need to do that? Are you not going home, Hugo?”
“I have business to attend to,” he stated. “If you will kindly excuse me.”
He stormed off.
Chapter Fourteen
“Icould not go home,” Hugo scoffed as he took a long sip of Scottish whisky.
The irony of his choice of drink was not lost on him.
The gaslights of the tavern cast a warm, amber glow over the wooden chairs and mahogany tables. Hugo stared into the swirling depths of his drink, a familiar scowl etched on his face at an unseemly hour.
Across from him, the Marquess of Sarford was already halfway through his second glass of claret. In contrast, he had a wide, amused grin on his face.
“Still brooding, old chap?” he inquired, his eyes twinkling with mirth. “One would think you’d spilled ink in your morning porridge, not merely spent an evening in the company of a charming, if somewhat outspoken, lady. From all I could see, she did quite well.”
Hugo grunted, taking a long swig. “Charming? She is a menace. And she is getting entirely too good at this charade. She even managed to dance with Middleby.”
“Ah, Middleby.” Aaron chuckled. “Dull as dishwater, but not without his charms. Too good, you say? Sounds like your grandmother’s done some heavy-duty polishing, just as I predicted. Perhaps you are feeling a bit unsettled by this new, refined bloom, eh, Hugo? Less prickly thistle, more well-mannered rose?”
Hugo shot him a dark look. “Do not be so ridiculous. I merely wish to see her settled so I can sell Inverhall and be rid of the entire Scottish entanglement. I will never again set foot in that cursed country if I can help it. But I must say, this is some damn fine whisky.”
“Right, right.” Aaron let out a theatrical sigh. “And the moon is made of cheese. Come now, Hugo, you are tighter than a corset on a whale tonight. Let us find you a proper distraction. There are plenty of lovely ladies here who would be delighted by a duke’s attention, even a grumpy one.”
Before Hugo could protest, Aaron caught the eye of a striking blonde across the room, who smiled demurely.
“Ah, Miss Beatrice! A vision, as always!” he called out, then nudged Hugo. “Go on, Hugo. Show her that famous Arrowfell charm. Or, at least, your best attempt at it. If that fails, I am sure your deep pockets will soften the blow.”
I will show him charm.
Hugo, spurred by a desperate need to prove Aaron wrong and perhaps, more importantly, to prove it to himself, rose. He approached Beatrice, a strained smile on his lips.
“Miss Beatrice,” he began, his voice stiff at the thought of addressing her as a lady. “You look, well, you look… well.”
Beatrice blinked, her smile faltering. “I look well, Your Grace? Thank you kindly for the compliment.”
Hugo cleared his throat, feeling a sudden, uncharacteristic awkwardness. He took another hearty sip of whisky.
“Yes. You look very well and present. Here you are.” He gestured vaguely to her gown. “And your gown is certainly a gown.”
Aaron, watching from their table, buried his face in his hands, muffling a snort. It took everything within Hugo not to walk over and break his perfect nose.
Miss Beatrice, clearly bewildered, offered a polite, if strained, smile. “Thank you, Your Grace. I believe I saw my friend across the room. If you will excuse me.” She curtsied hastily and practically fled.
Hugo returned to the table, his face a mask of irritation. “She clearly has no appreciation for more subtle compliments.”
Aaron burst out laughing, a full, unrestrained sound that drew curious glances. “Subtle? Oh, Hugo! You sounded like a man describing a particularly sturdy piece of furniture!You look well. Yes, and very present.Truly, a poet in the making! They will have you as the hero in all the romance novels before you know it.” He wiped a tear from his eye. “Try again, my friend. Perhaps something with a little moreflair.”
Hugo glared at him. “This is pointless. I am not in the mood for such frippery. I came here to relax, not to be prodded.”
