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“Indeed. Have you some news for me?” She didn’t look up from her reading, and he couldn’t get a sense of her mood from her profile.
“I could hardly have any news for you, given you’re the one reading the paper.” He made the words as lighthearted as possible. “I ought to be asking you if there’s anything worth reading this morning.”
“Very little, though only because I did not catch the name or a proper look at your companion.” The Dowager Bedford, known to family and friends as Genevieve Russell, folded her paper and fixed him with a prim look. “I assure you, if I’d known her name before you had Nora escort her out, you and she both would be in the scandal sheets tomorrow.”
“I could hardly think you’d do something to embarrass the family.”
His mother huffed. “As if you have not done quite enough of that. I’d be quite willing to send your name to the scandal sheets and then post the wedding banns if I’d a name to give your companion. Though, if you and the young lady are considering a serious commitment, that is another matter.” She fixed him with another stern look. “And in that case, you might have done well to introduce her to me rather than having my maid sneak her out of the house by the back door.”
How the devil... has Bradstone been telling tales after all? He might if it’s Mother who asks.
She was waiting for a response, so he rolled his shoulders in an easy shrug. “I can’t say that I was particularly considering anything serious at the moment, I’m afraid. It was more a bit of lighthearted fun on both our accounts.”
His mother slapped the paper on the table and rose from her seat. “Well, the next time you decide to indulge in your ‘lighthearted fun,’ Arthur dear, do choose someone aside frommymaid to aid you in managing your little indiscretions. I do not appreciate having my staff involved in your tawdry affairs.”
“Yes, Mother. I’ll try to avoid involving your little maid—Nora, was it?—in any further engagements I happen to have.”
“Engagements. Hmph. Call them what they are; shameless liaisons with those ‘working women’ or socialites who are no better. If you wish to attempt greater discretion, you might consider choosing one of those ‘lighthearted encounters’ you’ve been parading behind my back for more serious consideration.”
Her hand smacked firmly against the table, neatly manicured nails tapping against the polished wood. “You need to marry, Arthur. A respectable young lady—or a light-of-love, given your reputation of late—and give me…” She cut herself off with a delicate cough, then sighed. “You’re the Duke, Arthur. You have a responsibility to the family line. You need an heir. And I should like to see some progress in that endeavor, preferably by my birthday.”
He had no intention of tying himself to any woman any time soon, but he recognized his mother’s tone. So he mustered up a conciliatory smile. “I shall give it some consideration.”
“See that you do.” And with one final stern look, she departed.
After that particular discussion, he had even less interest in breakfast, let alone the papers. He motioned for Bradstone to take the Society and business pages to his office for him to peruse later, then clear away the breakfast dishes. That done, he turned to leave the room, once more intent on a change of clothing and perhaps a bath.
He exited the morning room, only to pause, arrested in his tracks by the sight of a familiar figure. His mother’s little maid, pitcher in hand as she tended the flower arrangements set on their decorative tables. “You. Nora.”
The girl turned, pitcher in hand, as she dipped her head. “Your Grace.”
He moved forward, looking her over as he did so. She was a pretty little thing, slim and petite with gentle curves, thick dark hair like a raven’s wing, and bright blue eyes. Wary blue eyes, as if she expected a reprimand.
“I trust Annabelle is safely away?”
“Yes, Your Grace. She was gone before I returned to my duties.” She kept her gaze down and her tone cool and respectful, yet there was an underlying, subtle tone to it.
He set that aside for the moment. “Well, I suppose I must thank you for your efforts.” He smiled wryly. “Though my lady mother has other ears and eyes and is apparently as aware of my efforts as I am at pains to attempt their concealment. One would think she was watching me more closely than a mother ought!”
“I am sure I know nothing of the matter, Your Grace.” The pitcher in her hand wavered, and she turned her full attention to it, though he’d almost swear it was artifice rather than clumsiness that caused the tremor. “If you will excuse me, Your Grace, I do have my duties…” With a final shallow curtsy and a dip of her head, she darted away up the corridor to the nearest vase, not even waiting for his dismissal.
Arthur stared after her, bemused. He ought to have been irritated by her behavior, leaving without his permission. On the other hand, she was his mother’s maid and could perhaps be excused for placing the duties given to her by the Dowager above speech with anyone, even her lawful lord and Duke.
In any case, he was not of a mind to pursue the matter, nor the maid. His chambers beckoned and the promise of some time to refresh himself.
It is a bit odd, though, how she so often flees, for all she seems to have proper spirit. And I wonder why on earth she seems so determined to avoid speaking to me.
CHAPTERTWO
Arthur rolled his shoulders as he made his way through the quiet halls. He’d spent the day in relative ease, a light meal followed by a few hours rest, and a visit to his club. He’d spent some time with his friends, talking, betting the horses, and enjoying a few games of cards. He’d won some, lost a few, and come out at about the same financial status as when he’d arrived.
He did, however, have correspondence and a few items of business to take care of before he retired for the night. No pleasant female company this time, which was a pity, but still, he supposed it was as well, given his mother’s mood over breakfast.
He turned a corner and came to an abrupt halt as he came face to face with a familiar individual.
Nora. Out wandering the hall, though he knew for certain it was late enough that the majority of the servants had retired. Granted, she might have had some special task for his mother, but it was still rather late for any servant to be moving about the house.
It was one reason he frequently waited until late to return from the club. Less likelihood of rumors and gossip flying about if the servants were abed when he brought a young woman home.
