“I do not believe I am acquainted with any of those ladies,” Conbatten said drily.
“Well, it is just a bit of silliness,” Miss Mayton said. “Though we feel it sometimes. Earlier today, I could hardly find Lynette to dress Beatrice as they were all in the kitchens gossiping and here we had so many members of the YBC coming to see Beatrice—Mr. Cahill, Lord Dunston, Sir William, and Lord Jericho.”
Though Beatrice adored her aunt’s rather forward way of communicating, she began to think Miss Mayton told the duke a bit too much about the activities of their household.
“Lady Beatrice,” the duke said, “perhaps I might escort you to the refreshment room, if it please the earl. Lady Worsted is rather renowned for her wine cellar.”
The earl nodded, and Beatrice thought her father did so rather gratefully.
Conbatten bowed and led her through the crowd of people, Beatrice said, “Please do not mind my aunt, her thoughts are often spoken as she has them.”
They had made their way into the refreshment room, which was a large space and not as crowded as the other rooms. Conbatten led her to a chair and motioned for a footman. “I suggest the Canary, it is quite good.”
Beatrice nodded, as she did indeed like a good Canary.
The footman hurried off and Conbatten said, “I was not at all alarmed by your aunt’s phrasings, Lady Beatrice. Every family has an old aunt who will say discomfiting things. Though, I have not the slightest intention of becoming acquainted with any of your maids.”
“Certainly not,” Beatrice said. “For their sake as well as yours. It is one thing to gossip in the kitchens, but were they to encounter you, I suspect they’d fall over in a faint. In any case, you must not be too flattered—last year they were all wild for a vicar who visited the neighborhood.”
This caused Conbatten to laugh. “So it is myself and the vicar keeping company.”
The footman returned with the glasses of Canary on a silver tray.
Conbatten handed her a glass. “No, Lady Beatrice, I wished to speak to you on another matter. Your aunt seemed determined to have all know that half the members of your brother’s club attended you this day. This is perhaps ill-advised.”
“Ill-advised?” Beatrice asked, not having the first idea of what the duke meant by it.
“All four gentlemen named by Miss Mayton are perfectly acceptable fellows, but everybody knows that both Lord Dunston and Mr. Cahill do not have any intention of marrying so soon. Sir William is under the thumb of his mother, who is set on another lady. And then, Lord Jericho is biding his time until a lady from his neighborhood makes her debut next season.”
“Whatever their circumstances may be,” Beatrice said, “there can be no scandal associated with their call to my father’s house.”
“Certainly not,” Conbatten said. “It is all very proper. However, you have informed me of your list of requirements and therefore I must presume you wish to marry. I only say that having those fellows trail you about might keep another more likely gentleman away. There are those who are not as loud and chattering as those YBC fellows. I can think of several offhand and none very likely to push through such a throng.”
Beatrice did everything to stop herself from laughing. Little did Conbatten know that it was all just a performance, and it was to drive somebody in, not out.
Then she paused. Perhaps she should not be so quick to dismiss the duke’s caution. After all, might not her tortured gentleman be among these fellows who were hanging back?
“Duke, these gentlemen you think of, do any of them have a tragic past? What I mean is, have any of them lost both a mother and sister to childbirth?”
“What a question, and no, I do not believe so.”
Alas, none of them were her tortured gentleman.
In a grave tone, she said, “I will take all of your thoughts under advisement, duke.”
“By the by,” the duke said, “you really ought to address me as Your Grace until I give you leave to call me duke.”
“Do you give me leave?”
“Well, it’s a little late now. You’d best just carry on as you have been.”
The duke was an odd sort of creature, though Beatrice began to like him very well. Despite the interested glances of all who entered the refreshment room, there was not the slightest bit of romance or flirtation between them. They were, however, becoming friends, she thought.
The poor fellow had gone out of his way to give her a hint. Somehow, his handing out of hints just now did not make her cross, as Van Doren’s so often did.
That it was a hint not at all required, he need never know.
Chapter Eleven
