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“I take great pains to keep it up to snuff.” The duke leaned his hands upon the porticoed bannister, looking out at his expansive garden and surrounding fields.
“Your hard work shows. It’s rarified.”
“I hope it wasn’t too forward to bring you to the estate early.”
“Not in the slightest.”
“I wanted you and your sister to feel at ease.”
Gazing into the duke’s eyes, Sarah noted what looked like affection. Oh, was there something wrong with her? Why wasn’t she eager and anxious to have Lord Edward Guilford like her, even love her?
“We’ve been most comfortable. The staff is pleasant and skilled.”
“Would you care to dance with me later?” The duke smiled.
Sarah bashfully beat her fan. “Yes, Your Grace. It would be my pleasure.”
“Very well. I won’t take up too much of your time. I merely hadn’t a chance to share so many words with you since your arrival. I sought to amend that.”
“And you did,” Sarah said warmly.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
“I wish to take the air for a few minutes longer.” Sarah again looked up at the night sky.
“Do as you please.” The duke took Sarah’s hand and kissed her fingers.
Although that was a common gesture for showing interest, Sarah did note the intimacy of it. She watched as Lord Guilford departed and made the rounds with his guests in the dining room.
Sarah couldn’t help observing him for a few moments. He was equally gregarious with every guest he encountered and even kissed more ladies’ hands. She finally turned away.
Perhaps that was the one element that made it difficult to have real feelings for the Duke of Faversham. He was the same way with everyone. It seemed as though he concealed nothing under his placid exterior because there was simply nothing to conceal. He was bred to be the upright man that he was, but nothing more.
Sarah knitted her brow. She scolded herself for thinking that way and being so stubborn. Finally, she eyed Lisbeth with a plate of food, waving at Sarah. It was time for her to return inside.
Upon entering the dining room yet again, the four-part orchestra could be heard in the ballroom, and there was a general air of excitement.
Suddenly, all heads turned as one man in particular entered the dining room. He wore a greatcoat and top hat. Sarah was struck by his handsomeness, and the notion that she had somehow seen him before.
***
Lord Reginald Simmons, Earl of Buckland—for that was who Patrick now considered himself to be—entered the Duke of Faversham’s dining room and took off his hat. A footman immediately approached and offered to take his coat, and Reginald obliged.
“Thank you, good sir,” Reginald said.
The footman bowed his head.
The dining room smelt delectable, and Reginald found that he had quite the appetite. He was grateful when he saw the duke approach, because first and foremost, Reginald needed to explain his presence.
“Good evening, sir,” the duke said, searching Reginald’s eyes. From his gaze, Reginald knew that the duke didn’t know who the devil he was.
“Good evening, sir.”
He did not refer to the duke as Your Grace because Reginald didn’t want to let on that he knew that it was the Duke of Faversham that stood before him.
“I don’t believe I know you.” The duke knitted his brow. “I apologize for the offence.”
“No offence taken. My name is Lord Reginald Simmons, Earl of Buckland. I fear that I was passing through town when my horse threw a shoe.”
