"Send the Plain One, He'll Reject Her," They Laughed — But the Duke Could Not Take His Eyes Off Her
Chapter 3
Theme:
Font Size:
24px
"Found it in the attic," Sir Giles mumbled. "Thought you'd want it for the journey." He paused in the doorway. "Hester, your aunt is... well, your aunt. But I'd not have you think that everyone in this house fails to see you."He was gone before she could answer. She held the little book against her heart for a long time. And she did not know, could not possibly have known, that the gift her grandfather had given her was about to become the most precious thing in a great man's life.Halsingham Park lay in a valley of the Shropshire Hills: honey-colored stone among beechwoods that had just begun to turn.Four other families had been invited. Four other mothers, each with a daughter polished to a shine. By the first evening, the drawing room glittered like a jeweler's window.And at the center of it all stood Nathaniel, the fourth Duke of Halsingham.He was 34, tall and lean, with dark hair going a little silver at the temples, and a face that might have been handsome if he had ever once smiled. He had fought in Spain and come home with a fever that nearly killed him.Since then, the county said he had grown proud. He cut old friends dead in the street at Shrewsbury. He looked straight through ladies who curtsied to him across a ballroom. He never danced."Insufferable," whispered one of the other mothers, whose daughter he had walked straight past twice without a word."Shy," said Lady Marchbank firmly, steering Arabella towards him. "Merely shy. He wants a warm, lively girl to bring him out."Hester stood where she had been told to stand, in her brown dress, one step behind her cousin. And because no one was looking at her, she did what she always did: she looked properly. And she began to notice things.She noticed that the Duke never moved quickly through a room. She noticed that he never greeted a guest until that guest had spoken first; only then would he say their name. She noticed that he held his dinner card all through the soup and never once looked down at it. She noticed an old spaniel, brown and white, who walked always at his left knee; whenever there was a chair or a step ahead, the dog leaned gently against his leg. And she noticed that whenever he reached for his wine glass, he touched the table first, lightly, with two fingers to find it.Hester had seen those small movements before. Every day for 17 years.She did not say a word. It was not her business, and no one would have listened.Across the table, a fair, smiling gentleman was watching the Duke, too: Mr. Rupert Vere, the Duke's cousin and heir, charming to everyone, and especially charming to Lady Marchbank. Hester noticed that his smile never quite reached his eyes when he looked at his cousin. It was the look of a man waiting for something.