Page 67 of A Family Bargain with the Duke

He suspected, watching the golden light fade slowly toward evening, that he would not have to wait very much longer to find it.

CHAPTER 27

“You are entirely certain that this cravat is properly tied, Briggs? I feel as though it is attempting to strangle me by slow degrees.”

“It is tied exactly as it should be, Your Grace. I suspect the sensation has more to do with your evening than your neckcloth.”

Julian caught his valet’s eye in the mirror and found no sympathy waiting there, only the faint, knowing amusement of a man who had dressed him for a great many evenings and apparently recognized precisely what made this one different.

He found Louisa waiting in the entrance hall and felt his evening threaten to unravel at the sight of her, gowned in deep blue silk that caught the candlelight whenever she moved, a string of pearls at her throat that had been her grandmother’s—the only piece of jewelry she wore that had not come from him.

“You are staring, Your Grace.”

“I am admiring. There is a difference.”

“Is there?” Warmth softened her face, quickly masked beneath her usual composure, though not quickly enough to escape his notice. “We ought to go, or Lady Camden will finish her opening remarks before we arrive to hear them.”

The carriage ride to Lord and Lady Camdens’ smaller gathering passed in easy, familiar conversation, Louisa recounting some small domestic dispute between Mrs. Whitfield and the new under-gardener over the proper pruning of the roses. Julian found himself, as he so often did now, considerably more interested in the gestures she made with her hands than in the substance of the dispute itself.

“You are not listening, Your Grace.”

“I am listening. The gardener believes the roses need pruning in October. Mrs. Whitfield believes pruning them in November is considerably wiser.”

“You have simply repeated the last sentence I said.” Louisa’s mouth curved, amusement dancing in her eyes. “I’m beginning to think that you find the household disputes considerably less riveting than you pretend to.”

“I find everything about household disputes riveting, Louisa. I merely have difficulty concentrating this evening.”

Flustered pleasure flickered across her face at that, and she looked away toward the window, though Julian caught the small smile she failed to suppress.

The Camdens’ drawing room was already crowded by the time they arrived, candlelight and laughter spilling warm through the open doors. They had scarcely been announced when Julian felt Louisa’s hand tighten briefly on his arm.

“Sir Edmund is here.”

Julian followed her gaze to where Vane stood near the refreshments table, engaged in easy conversation with Lord Camden, his silver head bent in the attentive posture that had once struck him as gracious rather than calculating.

“He has as much right to attend as anyone, I suppose, whatever I think of him.” Julian’s jaw tightened despite the light tone he attempted. “Stay near me, if it does not trouble you overmuch.”

“I usually prefer it, Your Grace, regardless of the company.”

* * *

They were inevitably drawn into the evening’s various conversations, and it was perhaps three-quarters of an hour later, Julian momentarily claimed by Lord Camden’s questions regarding the autumn harvest, that Louisa became aware of Vane approaching, positioning himself directly beside her near the card room doorway with the unhurried confidence of a man who had chosen his moment deliberately.

“Your Grace.” His bow was correct in every way, his smile warm, and yet Louisa felt, exactly as she had at their first meeting, some careful calculation moving behind the pleasantry, a man arranging his approach the way one arranged pieces on a board. “How well you look this evening. Married life continues to agree with you remarkably.”

“You are kind, Sir Edmund.”

“Not kind at all, merely observant.” His eyes flicked toward the door, as though expecting someone, and Louisa found herself watching him with the wariness she reserved for men whose charm arrived rather too smoothly for genuine warmth. “I understand that your ward continues to make remarkable progress. All of London speaks of the miracle you have apparently worked with him.”

“He has done the greater part of the work himself, Sir Edmund. I have simply listened properly, which I gather no one troubled to do before.”

“How admirably modest of you.” His smile did not waver, though he seemed to file the answer away. Louisa felt a cold prickle of unease settle beneath her composure. “And the infant. Eleanor, is it not? I understand she thrives as well.”

“She does, thank you.”

“A remarkable arrangement, that a woman so recently married should already have charge of two children not her own by blood.” His tone remained light, conversational, and yet Louisa felt something sharpen beneath it, some deliberate testing of ground she did not yet fully understand the shape of. “And the child’s mother? I confess I have never quite understood how she came to your household.”

Louisa stiffened, the question landing with a precision that told her it had not been asked idly. Her heart began to beat faster than the pleasant hum of the gathering around her warranted.