The Duke's Last Hunt Read Online Free Page B

kind enough, although how peculiar that she should not know ahead of time that they were coming! Rufus’ sister she was not so sure about—she seemed mischievous, though one could hope it was only high spirits and not maliciousness.
    Eliza felt the sofa shift as Lord Henry stood up and offered his seat to her mother. She took her mother’s hand as she sat down and squeezed it, but Lady Malcolm, with a pointed look at Eliza’s gray dress, released her hand just as quickly in a gesture of disapproval.
    Eliza touched her fingers to her hair and felt a few tendrils coming loose. Why had she not waited in her room for Ollerton to come?
    The Duchess of Brockenhurst was making the necessary introductions to Eliza’s parents—“…and my son Henry you must already know.”
    Eliza shot a look of desperation over to her father. What would they all think if Lord Henry was acquainted with her and not with her father ? She cast a sideways glance at Lord Henry and saw the hint of a smile on his face. How unkind of him to get so much amusement at another’s expense!
    “Erm, yes, of course,” said Sir Arthur, always ready to sacrifice a little truth for the sake of social niceties. Eliza released the breath she had been holding.
    Lady Malcolm, however, was not so easily swayed by convention. “I do not believe I have had the honor. You are…?”
    “Henry Rowland, my dear,” said Sir Arthur. “Surely you remember.”
    “Always a pleasure, madam,” said Lord Henry, reaching for her mother’s hand and kissing it gallantly.
    Eliza’s mouth nearly fell open. So he did have some manners after all, just none that he had cared to display for her.
    The Duchess of Brockenhurst ordered more tea things to be sent for and, when the requisite cakes and cups had arrived, distributed them to the late arrivals. Mr. Curtis, Rufus’ older brother, engaged Sir Arthur and the other gentlemen in conversation about a new machine that ran on steam. The duchess began commenting on the hot summer weather to Lady Malcolm.
    Eliza saw Rufus’ sister leaning in for another round of questioning and braced herself for the onslaught.
    “How do you enjoy the country compared to London, Miss Malcolm?”
    “It is a pleasant change,” rejoined Eliza, relieved that her accomplishments were no longer being put on display. “I have not been much in Sussex.”
    “Ah, what county is your family seat in then?”
    “We reside in London for the whole of the year.” She did not think it necessary to mention that her father had sold their country estate three years ago to add some wind to their sails.
    “Oh!” said Lady Adele. She seemed genuinely dismayed by the admission, her tone hinting at the universal understanding that the best sorts of people always quitted London by the beginning of August.
    It was not so bad, thought Eliza ruefully. She loved the hustle and bustle of the streets, the anonymity of the crowd, the life and the colors. And in the summer, one could easily become accustomed to the heat and the smell and the absence of friends while others were enjoying rural life.
    “How pleasant,” said a voice behind her, “to have an excuse to forgo the call of the horn and the hounds!”
    Eliza tilted her chin upwards and saw that Lord Henry had vacated his place in the men’s conversation to stand directly behind the sofa. “You are not fond of hunting, Lord Henry?”
    “No. That is my brother’s province.” His tone indicated that anything in favor with the duke would be out of favor with him.
    “Well, if you mean to stay the week, you’ll have to ride out with Rufus,” said Lady Adele, “for he’s organized a large hunting party this Wednesday.”
    “If I mean to stay,” echoed Lord Henry. His dark eyes looked down at Eliza thoughtfully. “What think you, Miss Malcolm? Is it worth my time?”
    Eliza felt heat burning in her cheeks. Other women could bear embarrassment gracefully—why must her complexion betray her at every turn?