“He hasn’t gone south, has he?” the duke asked.
Mr. Moreau appeared mystified by the question. “No, Your Grace, he is still upstairs.”
“Right,” the duke said. “I’d better go and see for myself.”
“Yes, Your Grace,” Mr. Moreau said. “That is what he asked.”
“Are you French?” Valor asked.
Mr. Moreau bowed. “Oui, Mademoiselle.”
“That’s why he doesn’t understand you, Papa. Speak loudly and slowly,” Valor advised.
The duke chucked her chin and headed out of the room. Mr. Moreau hurried after him, no doubt relieved he’d accomplished the task he’d been given and not entirely certain how he’d done so.
What was happening up there? Why did Lord Dashlend require the duke? Had something gone wrong? Or perhaps he had regained his strength and wished to express his feelings over being pulled off the side of a house by the duke’s clumsy daughter? Perhaps he wished to send for Lady Lavender, and then have to be told she would not come.
There was something rather fraught in not knowing which way the wind was blowing. She had wondered sometimes, during Felicity’s season, why her sister so often appeared nervous. Now she understood. It felt as if her blood contained bubbles that were pinging round her body. She grasped the arm of her chair to steady herself.
*
MILES WATCHED THEdoor crash open and Moreau run through it. “I have brought him, my lord.”
The duke was on his heels and they were both out of breath. Did they run up the stairs?
“Yes, he has brought me,” the duke said, “or rather, raced me up the stairs. I could not get ahead of him.”
Moreau nodded, as if beating the duke up the stairs had been part of Miles’ directions to him.
“Your Grace,” Miles said, “thank you for attending me, and for your hospitality and the services of your physician as well. Moreau, step out and close the door behind you.”
Moreau appeared shocked to his shoes to be sent out. He sniffed, he huffed, he rolled his eyes, he swatted at invisible dust on his coat. Finally, he went.
After the door closed, the duke said, “He’s a rather hysterical fellow.”
This prompted a very loud stomp from the corridor. Miles only nodded so as not to cause another outburst from his irascible valet.
“Your Grace, considering my current condition, it is probably not the ideal time to broach the subject of nuptials—”
The duke held up a hand. “Listen here, Dashlend, you’re free to do what you want with your life, but I will not have my Grace faced with congratulating you and Lady Lavender in her own house. No, I will not have that.”
“Lady Lavender? What does she have to do with it?”
The duke snorted. “Don’t tell me, you have athirdlady on the hook? How many bouquets do you send out a week, anyway?”
Miles was well aware that the duke was eccentric, but now he began to fear the man was downright mad. What was this gibberish about Lady Lavender and bouquets of flowers?
“Your Grace, my intentions have not strayed away from Lady Grace since the moment I met her on the beach. My feelings have grown day by day since that fateful encounter. Now, as to flowers, I admit I have been remiss in not sending any. It was really very stupid of me, but I am not in the habit of courting. However, I have not sent any flowers to Lady Lavender or any other lady either. I do not understand how you came to labor under that misapprehension.”
“Misapprehension? I see, so the florist was not forthcoming in admitting their mistake and you don’t know the whole of it. Well, let me tell you, Dashlend, your secret is out—two bouquets of flowers arrived here, daisies for Grace and roses for Lady Lavender. We promptly sent back the roses so they could be delivered to their correct destination.”
“I sent no daisies or roses to anybody,” Miles said.
“Who else would have sent them and signed your name to them? Come now, as a gentleman, have the good grace to acknowledge being caught out.”
As soon as the question as to who might have signed was posed, the answer presented itself. “The only person I can think of who would have reason to stir trouble between Lady Grace and myself is Lord Montclave. If I die early, he becomes the heir to the earldom, and if I do not produce an issue, his son will eventually inherit. He’s done some other things recently that make me think he is actively attempting to prevent me from continuing the line through a wedding and the ensuing children.”
The duke narrowed his eyes and stared at him, seeming to consider this idea.
