The Duke's Last Hunt Read Online Free

with a large hand.
    Eliza looked down at her own dusty traveling dress, wondering, with a tinge of panic, how soon tea was.
    “But I imagine my mother is eager to see you, so let’s not keep her waiting. Henry,”—the duke’s eyes glittered—“you can make yourself useful and take Miss Malcolm to the drawing room.”
    Lord Henry made no answer, watching as his brother disappeared toward the staircase.
    Eliza took a deep breath and stared at the floor.
    “Well then, shall we?”
    She looked up. Lord Henry was offering her his arm. She took it and they walked back through the entrance hall toward the double doors that led into the drawing room, Lord Henry maintaining an aloof silence and Eliza summoning up the whole of her courage to face a room full of people she did not know on the arm of a man she did not much like.
    * * *
    Henry had escorted enough nervous debutantes to sense when one was about to dissolve into a puddle. He cast a curious glance at Miss Malcolm’s profile as they approached the drawing room. She was biting her lower lip and her face was still a half-shade of pink, but despite that, or perhaps because of it, she was rather pretty. He would almost think her beautiful, if it were not for the red in her hair which reminded him of his brother.
    Where had Rufus come across this girl? And why had he invited her here? Henry knew all too well that she was not the usual sort of woman that the Duke of Brockenhurst preferred. Her dress was plain and genteel, and she did not seem the least bit forward. She had said that her parents were here as well, which lent an unexpected air of propriety to the situation.
    He was already regretting his incivility to her in the saloon. It was not his habit to insult young women on first acquaintance—but then, previous encounters with ladies of Rufus’ acquaintance had left him ill-prepared to encounter someone modest and demure.
    Henry could feel Miss Malcolm’s grip tighten on the crook of his arm as his opposite hand pushed open the doors of the drawing room. She was terrified. But just as quickly, her hand relaxed—she was determined not to show it.
    The group of four seated around the tea table looked up as Henry and Miss Malcolm entered, and the two gentlemen rose to their feet in courtesy to Henry’s companion.
    “Henry! What on earth are you doing here?” demanded Adele with a shriek. She tapped the gentleman next to her with her fan. “Mr. Blount! Did you know my brother was coming down to the country?”
    Stephen smiled. “He told me he might, but I did not think it my place to tell you.”
    Henry and Stephen exchanged a nod of greeting.
    “Well, that was very wrong of you,” said Adele, shaking her brown curls with a toss of her head. “I forbid you to keep secrets from me, Mr. Blount.”
    Henry groaned inwardly. It was ghastly watching one’s sister flirt with one’s friend.
    “So delightful to see you,” said his mother, with a little more decorum than her daughter. “The day is full of surprises—first your brother Robert arrives, then you.”
    “Hello, Hal!” said the slender man standing behind the duchess. He gave a smirk, as if their chance meeting at the village tavern was some sort of clandestine act that bound them together.
    “And who is this on your arm?” asked the duchess, gesturing graciously to Miss Malcolm.
    Henry started. He had assumed that Miss Malcolm would have met his mother before now, but apparently Rufus had sent this wilting flower into a room full of strangers. “I beg your pardon, Mother. May I present Miss Elizabeth Malcolm?”
    “How do you do?” said the girl a little faintly. She let go of his arm to bob a brief curtsey.
    The duchess murmured something polite while Adele displayed another of her irrepressible outbursts. “Miss Malcolm? But I thought you were visiting Rufus? How is it that you come in with Henry?”
    Miss Malcolm colored from the edges of her ears to the tip of her nose. Adele certainly knew