“Lady Grace,” the viscount said, “I presume from your father’s speech that this is your first foray into Town?”
“The first where I will be out,” Grace said. “I was there last year when my sister, Felicity, had her season.”
This seemed to register something in the viscount’s mind. “I was not there, I was on the continent on business for my father…but, Lady Felicity? I seem to have heard about a tiger and then she wed Stratton?”
“Yes, that is right,” Grace said.
They had come to the steps and Grace was determined not to fall over. She leaned heavily on the viscount’s arm.
He seemed to perceive her trepidation over them and said, “There now, well-worn steps like these only require one to go slowly and not get ahead of oneself.”
Grace nodded, really very gratified at his consideration. How extraordinary that she would have met with her first single gentleman in such a situation. At least, she supposed he was single, but then perhaps he was not—how to find it out?
They had reached the top of the steps with no tippings over, which was just as she hoped for. Viscount Dashlend escorted her through the twisting track and it was really very narrow in some places. Grace was not certain she’d ever been so close to a gentleman outside of her papa. In truth, she was sure she had not. There was one moment where really they should have gone in a single file. Their shoulders touched. It was rather exhilarating.
Reynolds had made arrangements with the carriages. One of the luggage coaches had been rearranged to permit just enough room for two people. Horse blankets had been laid down on the seats to accommodate the wet passengers.
“Jump in, sailors,” the duke said to the viscount and his valet. “We’re off to The Dolphin and the Dove—what a name for an inn, eh? What does a dolphin want with a dove? Nobody knows, least of all the innkeeper!”
With that genial assessment, Grace went to her own carriage and very slowly and elegantly got in.
*
THE CARRIAGE DOORwas shut by the duke’s valet, who gave both Miles and Moreau a very stern look before making his dignified way to the duke’s carriage.
They stared at one another.
“Well, how propitious that we are rescued so easily,” Miles said. “I had thought we’d be roaming up and down the coast looking for help from the local people. I imagined we’d end up spending the night in somebody’s hayloft.”
“What is this family?” Moreau asked.
“Were you not listening? The Duke of Pelham and his daughters.”
“You know what I ask.”
Of course, Miles was pretty certain he did know. What an extraordinary introduction. He’d been introduced to ladies by their fathers hundreds of times. In all of those times, he’d never heard a father refer to a daughter as a setback and then describe them in further unflattering terms. He’d wondered if the duke was drunk, but then he’d decided that was not the case.
“Was he drunk?” Moreau asked.
“I do not believe so,” Miles said thoughtfully. “I believe he may only be eccentric. Highly eccentric.”
Moreau narrowed his eyes. “Moreau is eccentric. This is something else.”
Naturally, Moreauwaseccentric. One had to be eccentric to talk about themselves by name, as if one were Louis XIV using the royal we. The duke’s was a different sort of eccentricity, though.
“This is English ducal eccentricity,” Miles said. “Something you will not be familiar with.”
As Miles expected, this brought an end to that particular line of inquiry. Though Moreau claimed he knew quite a lot on nearly every subject, he freely admitted that the habits of the English were beyond his understanding.
They fell into silence as Moreau became distracted by examining his wet clothing and quietly sighing over it.
Miles did not give too much thought to his clothing, as that was Moreau’s problem. His thoughts were much more taken up with Lady Grace.
She was very pretty, really. Her hair was a lovely shade of blond and not at all short of ringlets, as the sea breeze had helpfully revealed. Her cheeks were dimpled, which was charming. And then her eyes—so many blond ladies were blue eyed, but she was not. Her eyes were such that they might be taken for brown, but when one was closer one saw they were actually more olive with hints of gold. He really thought those eyes and her refined bone structure lent some sophistication to what might have been only a confection of blond curls and dimples.
Lady Grace also seemed a good-natured sort of lady. After all, she had not looked at all perturbed to hear herself described as a setback, nor the duke noting he was looking to get her out of the house as fast as possible.
Miles paused. Because, of course, that was why a lady came to London to begin. No father outright ever said it, but he supposed they all secretly harbored the duke’s ambitions. And then, the duke had quite a number of young ladies to settle. Miles had lost track of exactly how many of them had been on the beach as they’d seemed to be a regular swarm.
