Roland felt awkwardin the extreme to call on Conbatten. He was acquainted with the duke, though he could not say they were fast friends.
Did Conbatten have fast friends? He had a wife now, as he had married Lady Viola’s sister, and he seemed very pleased to have her. It appeared that he doted on the lady and he was often caught smiling at her, which was not a thing he was known for. But did he have close gentlemen friends?
Roland did not know; all he was certain of was that the duke’s name came up quite a bit at the YBC. It seemed it was always a matter of debate over whether to approach the duke about joining their club. Darden was to have asked him ages ago, as Conbatten was now his brother-in-law, but somehow it had not occurred. The members still fretted that the duke would not accept. Or that he would accept and then what would they do? They spent most of their time in the coffee room joking and laughing—did Conbatten joke and laugh?
He must go forward with the visit though. Conbatten had won Lady Viola’s sister, Lady Rosalind, and that made him the only person who might have some helpful hints on how he was to prove his loyalty to Lady Viola. Of course, there was Lord Van Doren, who’d married the eldest sister, and he must know something about it too, but Roland did not really know him. He had a reputation for being exceedingly prickly, so Conbatten seemed the best choice.
In any case, there was no turning back now without looking like a terrible goose. He’d been led into Conbatten’s drawing room and left to wait there.
As he looked around, he thought he could detect the new duchess’ influence. He’d been in the room once before, a few years ago, when Conbatten had thrown a large dinner. It had been far more austere and there certainly had not been any pillows embroidered with flowers.
The doors flew open and, much to Roland’s surprise, it was not Conbatten who came through them. It was the duchess.
“Your Grace,” he said bowing.
“My dear Earl,” the duchess said, coming forward, “let us not be so formal between us, you’d better call me duchess.” She paused and laughed. “Though, goodness, that always sounds so foreign when I say it.”
“Duchess,” Roland said. He was at a loss as to how to proceed. He had really planned to talk to Conbatten.
“Now Lord Baderston, I have ordered a tea tray and you must stay and have a chat with me, even though you have come to see the duke. He is at Tattersall’s just now, looking at a horse that he believes must suit me wonderfully.”
“It would be my honor to stay for tea, Duchess.”
“Excellent. We will talk of trivialities and once the tea has been laid and the door shut, I have high hopes you will confide in me.”
Roland was entirely nonplussed. What should he do? Dare he ask the duchess any probing questions about her own sister?
It did seem as if she were a willing ear. Though, how did she know he had something to confide?
As he was wondering about it, the duchess prattled on about this and that. Mostly about Conbatten. It seemed the duke was forever saving her from some sort of danger. Just the day before, he’d removed his coat and thrown it over her head until she was safely in the carriage, as a hornet had been spotted in the vicinity and he would not have his duchess stung. This day, he was looking at a horse with the express idea that he must find one that would not dare throw his lady.
Roland did not have the first idea how Conbatten would make such arrangements with a horse. One generally did not know that a horse was prone to spook or had an unwieldy temperament until it resided in one’s stables. The seller certainly would not mention it.
The duke’s butler arrived, leading in two footmen with trays. Under his grave stare, they laid the service expertly, the duchess all the while nodding her approval. The footmen were blushing by the time they were through and Roland got the idea that they were very keen to please their mistress. She seemed rather indulgent of them.
The doors closed and she poured him a cup. “Here we are in a confidential conversation,” she said. “I am delighted to find you here and hopeful that you have something to say about Lady Viola.”
There it was. She had opened the door. All he need do is walk through it.
“Well,” he said slowly, “naturally you did represent Lady Viola exceedingly well when you described her to me last season.”
“She is rather perfect, is she not?”
“Indeed, yes, everybody would say so.”
“But do you say so?”
“Me? Oh yes, I assumed that was understood.”
“It is understood now, Lord Baderston, and I feel it gives me leave to say something personal to you. If there were any little questions you might have regarding my sister? I do know her so very well.”
Roland gulped his tea. It was scalding in his throat, but it gave him a moment to think.
“Well,” he said slowly, “I did wonder, you see, Lady Viola did mention, very strongly, really, that loyalty is her primary requirement. Now, of course, I am a very loyal person. However, the rub seems to be in proving it.”
The duchess nodded knowingly. “Is that not always the case?”
“Is it?” Roland was rather confused. He had not known that this proving of loyalty was a regular thing.
