Page 4 of Her Summer Duke

Chapter Two

“Your Grace, why do you continue to pace so?” Adam leaned back in his chair. “Come, have a drink and settle your mind. What seems to be troubling you?”

The Duke of Saltonbury paused in his pacing, which had been enough that the discreet waiter who lurked in the corner had begun to wonder if the man meant to wear a track into the expensive carpets that graced the floor of White’s.

“Captain Halstone, if I may be so bold as to confide in you?”

“Certainly, if it pleases you, Your Grace. Waiter, another drink for us both!”

The Duke met Adam’s eye as he dropped into a chair beside him. It was as if he was uncertain what to say. Eventually, with a heavy sigh, he began.

“Halstone, have you ever been in love? For I struggle with the idea, and with what I might expect from a woman I am promised to.”

Adam almost choked on his drink. What a question! And from this man in particular! He weighed his words with care.

“I have, I believe, experienced that sensation. But it has not reached the point of promises, so perhaps I am not the man to ask.”

“You know, Halstone, that I have been promised to Lady Margaret Caulfield since her childhood. Her father, who is sadly now deceased, was the Marquess of Fieldhurst – a man I had great respect for. After I saved his daughter from drowning in the River Avon, her dear father wanted nothing more than to see Lady Margaret promised to me, to have the certainty that she would be well cared for, all her life. At the time, I thought of marriage as some distant thing, that I would contemplate only once my own father was gone, and the promise seemed as good an idea as any. Now, with both of our fathers dead, and Lady Margaret grown to a marriageable age, I find myself with a turmoil of doubts about life and love. Lady Margaret was left well off – her cousin Albert is now Marquess, and she abides in the home at Bradbury Crescent which her father left her as hers, outright.”

Adam mumbled into his drink, “Come to the point Saltonbury.”

If the man rambled so, this could take all evening. And, given the woman who was the subject of the discussion, Adam was most uncomfortable with it. Since that one dance three months before, she had never been far from his thoughts.

“The point, Halstone, is that I am concerned, uh, deeply worried, that Lady Margaret perhaps would not have ever loved me, or even considered me of interest, had I not saved her from drowning.”

Adam saw his opportunity quite plainly, although he felt, perhaps, less than honourable in what he was considering. But he excused himself because he was so desperately in love with Lady Margaret. After he had danced with her, that lovely waltz, only one, but it was long enough and close enough to her sweet young body for him to know that he loved her, he had sought out information about her. And discovered the sickening truth – she was promised, a promise of many years standing, to the Duke of Saltonbury. There was no formal betrothal, but everyone knew of the arrangement, and none had ever questioned the fact that it would end in marriage.

For a moment, he allowed himself to revisit the memory of dancing with her. She had been so graceful, moving gently on the balls of her slippered feet as he held her close. To discerning eyes, it might have appeared quite scandalous, how close he had held her, but he had been unable to resist – and it was a Masquerade, at which some degree of licence was granted. He remembered the smell of the perfume that drifted from her and he remembered her lips under his, for that brief but delightful kiss. He was quite sure that she was taken by him, that she had felt the attraction as strongly as he did.

For the thousandth time since that moment, he wished that, when he had felt the impulse to rip off his mask and tell her, “I am not Ensign Chester, but truly, Captain Lord Adam Halstone,” he had done so. But alas, he had not. She had left the Ball clinging to the falsehood he had given her.

Perhaps it was for the best.

Still, perhaps it was fate that had brought Saltonbury to confide in him. He could at least explore what the man truly thought.

“I see, Saltonbury. That is a rather deep question, isn’t it? Indeed, it puzzles me a little, for it’s not common for men of your station to consider love, when it comes to marriage. For Lady Margaret is certainly a suitable candidate for your Duchess, in all of the ways that society measures such things. What makes you care about love?”

Saltonbury eyed him, and sipped his drink, as if unsure whether to answer. When he did, it was rather hesitant.

“Well… at various points, she has declared that she loves me. But I do not know if she says that because she thinks that she should, or, worse, because she is trying to convince herself, to make marriage to me a more palatable idea. And equally, I have told her that I love her – but do I? What does love truly feel like? I like her well enough, but then, I have known her so long…”

Adam swallowed. Those words made it even more tempting. He had to suggest it, and see how the man reacted.

“Perhaps… perhaps you should test the truth of it. You could try paying discreet attention to another woman, and see how Lady Margaret reacts – will she be jealous? Will that show her love for you? And, perhaps also, will paying some attention to another woman give you an insight into your own true feelings. I suggest nothing that goes so far as to be improper, of course, but still… if you chose to be more attentive to, say, her cousin, Lady Phoebe Archbolt. She is lovely and though she is betrothed to Lord Montpelier, why not flatter her? Montpelier is a bit of a dull old stick, after all – I am sure that Lady Phoebe would enjoy some more interesting conversation at times.”

Adam waited, thinking about just how desperate his hope was that his sweet Lady Margaret and this man should choose to part.

No matter how terrible it was for him to wish a longstanding promise broken, to wish for both Lady Margaret and Saltonbury to face some disapprobation from society, he found himself still hoping for that outcome. For, surely, if they did not love each other, a broken promise was far better than a life of unhappiness?

Saltonbury eyed him, as if he had changed into a magician, before his eyes. Adam watched as the man thought about his words, hardly daring to breathe.

“Perhaps… you are right – her reactions might be most informative, as might my own. But still…”

Nearby, another man sat, his glass poised in the air as he turned toward their conversation. Lord Percy Harrington was of the best breeding, but a man who had shown attentions to many different ladies, without ever settling on one. Indeed, there had been bets placed on when he would marry, with the suggestion being that it would happen only once his funds ran short.

“Sorry to intrude on your conversation, gentlemen, but I couldn’t help but overhear. And I must make an admission here. I am also desirous of the attentions of Lady Margaret. But desire does not make a catch, does it? If that were so, Lady Margaret would be in my chambers right at this moment.” He chuckled. “I congratulate you, Saltonbury on your all-but-betrothal to Lady Margaret. But does it not give you pause that Lady Margaret is so, well, so melancholy and so prone to sadness? Why just yesterday I heard that she often seems dispirited, and little interested in the day, as if she pines for something, or someone. Does not such behaviour from your intended worry you? I cannot imagine how I would be if it were my beloved behaving so.”

“Hold your tongue, Harrington! You speak of my beloved so inappropriately – her life and behaviour are not yours to judge. And I am left to wonder from whence comes your information.”