Cranford.”
The duke indicated a chair with a nod of his head, and Gilbey realized that he had already been discreetly deserted by the footman. He knew he should have felt honored to be summoned for a private audience with the duke, but given the way his visit had been going so far, he felt somewhat uneasy. It helped that the duke’s voice and even his tone of unmistakable authority sounded so much like Nicholas’s.
He was mistaken, however, about the footman. The servant had merely disappeared into the shadows; he reappeared instantly when the duke offered Gilbey a glass of port.
“I was concerned when you did not rejoin us at dinner by the time the ladies withdrew,” the duke said. It was clear that he expected an explanation.
“I apologize if I caused any concern or offense. Your Grace,” Gilbey replied carefully, accepting a glass from the footman. “None was intended. I did not think I would be missed.”
“I am responsible for the welfare of all my guests. I must apologize for the accident that befell you at dinner. If your garments cannot be cleaned, they will be replaced, of course.”
“That is most generous of you, sir, but altogether unnecessary. I’ve no wish to be any trouble to you.”
“Hmph, no doubt.” The duke set down his own glass and leaned back in his chair, interlacing all but his index fingers and tapping those thoughtfully against his pursed lips. His face had been shadowed before but now light from the candles nearest him shone upon his face, revealing an expression Gilbey could think of only as calculating.
“At the risk of being offensively candid, I would like to ask what it is that you do wish to accomplish here, Lord Cranford. As we are not at all acquainted, I trust you will forgive my bluntness.” He smiled a lopsided smile and arched an eyebrow exactly the way Nicholas did. Gilbey knew he really was not being offered any choice.
“As a duke I am granted amazing license in polite company,” His Grace continued. “You must realize that you are here merely by the request of my son, suddenly thrust among a very carefully selected group of guests who have been assembled for a particular purpose. What exactly, sir, is your own business at Rivington?”
So that was it. Gilbey smiled in a way he hoped the duke would find reassuring. Reading people was a talent the viscount had discovered he possessed at an early age, and he understood very well what the duke, despite his declared frankness, had left unsaid. His Grace wanted to know if Gilbey posed any threat to his well-laid plans to marry off his daughters, or if Gilbey had come seeking political favors or hoping to ingratiate himself with the powerful elite gathered here. He wanted to know Gilbey’s credentials as well as his intentions.
Gilbey didn’t blame the man one bit. After all, Gilbey was a stranger. By confronting him, the duke could test his personality and social skills. The choice of strategy impressed him. He hadn’t the slightest doubt that it had been quite deliberate.
“Your Grace, allow me to reassure you—I hope without seeming unappreciative of your hospitality—that I have come here for no purpose of my own at all. I promise you I have no wish to attract the attention of your daughters, or anyone else for that matter, and I seek nothing. I had no intention of coming here, even after Nicholas—uh, Lord Edmonton—invited me. However, your son has rather admirable powers of persuasion, as I am sure you are aware.”
“You do not find my daughters attractive?”
Now, that was a sticky question. Gilbey took a gulp of his port. Wouldn’t do to offend his host, or to give him a wrong idea, either. “My first impression of your daughters is that they are both beautiful and charming, Your Grace. If I were seeking a wife, I would be sorry indeed that my station is so far below what they deserve. But as Nicholas—uh, your son—is well aware, I have only just finished my stint at Cambridge and am
The duke indicated a chair with a nod of his head, and Gilbey realized that he had already been discreetly deserted by the footman. He knew he should have felt honored to be summoned for a private audience with the duke, but given the way his visit had been going so far, he felt somewhat uneasy. It helped that the duke’s voice and even his tone of unmistakable authority sounded so much like Nicholas’s.
He was mistaken, however, about the footman. The servant had merely disappeared into the shadows; he reappeared instantly when the duke offered Gilbey a glass of port.
“I was concerned when you did not rejoin us at dinner by the time the ladies withdrew,” the duke said. It was clear that he expected an explanation.
“I apologize if I caused any concern or offense. Your Grace,” Gilbey replied carefully, accepting a glass from the footman. “None was intended. I did not think I would be missed.”
“I am responsible for the welfare of all my guests. I must apologize for the accident that befell you at dinner. If your garments cannot be cleaned, they will be replaced, of course.”
“That is most generous of you, sir, but altogether unnecessary. I’ve no wish to be any trouble to you.”
“Hmph, no doubt.” The duke set down his own glass and leaned back in his chair, interlacing all but his index fingers and tapping those thoughtfully against his pursed lips. His face had been shadowed before but now light from the candles nearest him shone upon his face, revealing an expression Gilbey could think of only as calculating.
“At the risk of being offensively candid, I would like to ask what it is that you do wish to accomplish here, Lord Cranford. As we are not at all acquainted, I trust you will forgive my bluntness.” He smiled a lopsided smile and arched an eyebrow exactly the way Nicholas did. Gilbey knew he really was not being offered any choice.
“As a duke I am granted amazing license in polite company,” His Grace continued. “You must realize that you are here merely by the request of my son, suddenly thrust among a very carefully selected group of guests who have been assembled for a particular purpose. What exactly, sir, is your own business at Rivington?”
So that was it. Gilbey smiled in a way he hoped the duke would find reassuring. Reading people was a talent the viscount had discovered he possessed at an early age, and he understood very well what the duke, despite his declared frankness, had left unsaid. His Grace wanted to know if Gilbey posed any threat to his well-laid plans to marry off his daughters, or if Gilbey had come seeking political favors or hoping to ingratiate himself with the powerful elite gathered here. He wanted to know Gilbey’s credentials as well as his intentions.
Gilbey didn’t blame the man one bit. After all, Gilbey was a stranger. By confronting him, the duke could test his personality and social skills. The choice of strategy impressed him. He hadn’t the slightest doubt that it had been quite deliberate.
“Your Grace, allow me to reassure you—I hope without seeming unappreciative of your hospitality—that I have come here for no purpose of my own at all. I promise you I have no wish to attract the attention of your daughters, or anyone else for that matter, and I seek nothing. I had no intention of coming here, even after Nicholas—uh, Lord Edmonton—invited me. However, your son has rather admirable powers of persuasion, as I am sure you are aware.”
“You do not find my daughters attractive?”
Now, that was a sticky question. Gilbey took a gulp of his port. Wouldn’t do to offend his host, or to give him a wrong idea, either. “My first impression of your daughters is that they are both beautiful and charming, Your Grace. If I were seeking a wife, I would be sorry indeed that my station is so far below what they deserve. But as Nicholas—uh, your son—is well aware, I have only just finished my stint at Cambridge and am
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