Chapter 20
"May I offer you a glass of claret, duke?" Hugo gestured politely toward the decanters on the sideboard.
"Thank you… thank you." His august visitor watched as the wine was poured. "I trust you look kindly upon my suit."
Hugo bowed in acknowledgment. He could hardly look unkindly upon the suit of the Duke of Alresford. It would be a brilliant match for Chloe. The duke was no fortune hunter and a mere ten years older than herself. "The decision must of course rest with my ward," he said. "Chloe has a mind of her own." He smiled and raised his own glass of claret. He was becoming expert at appearing to drink in social situations without doing so.
"I flatter myself that she is not altogether indifferent," his grace said. It would be unspeakably vulgar to allude to his title and fortune, but his smugness was allusion enough.
"Then if you've discussed this with Chloe, duke, what more can I say?"
"Oh, goodness me, no." The duke made haste to defend himself from any possibility of impropriety. "I wouldn't broach such a subject without your permission, Sir Hugo. But I have been led to have hopes…" He gestured vaguely. "Miss Gresham is all condescension."
"Is she indeed," Hugo murmured. Chloe's private mockery of her pompous suitor had enlivened the din-
ner table on more than one occasion. However, he considered it his bounden duty to promote the duke's suit. Not that he had much hope of Chloe's bending to his will.
"Rest assured, duke, I will inform my ward of the inestimable honor of your proposal as soon as she returns from her ride."
Alresford put down his glass and took his leave. "Then I may expect a response before tomorrow."
"I believe so," Hugo said gravely, escorting his guest to the front door.
Alresford, like the rest of Chloe's increasing cast of suitors and friends, had come to accept the eccentric Samuel as butler and doorman and took his hat and cane from the earringed sailor with barely a thought about his oddity. "I await Miss Gresham's response most eagerly," he said.
"To what?" Samuel demanded, closing the door behind him.
"A proposal of marriage. The lass is being offered the opportunity to become a duchess."
"Much store she'll set by that," Samuel stated. " 'Ave you seen 'er take off 'is funny way of wrinklin' 'is nose?"
"I have. Where's Peg?"
"Sittin' by the kitchen fire with 'er feet in a mustard bath, eatin' gingerbread," Samuel informed him. "lazy little devil, she is."
"She's entitled," Hugo said. "At least until she's had the baby. Then we'll see what's to be done with her."
"I expect the lass 'as some notion."
"I wish she'd come up with a plan for that damn bear," Hugo said grimly. "It's growing like a weed."
The sounds of laughter came from beyond the front door, and Samuel pulled it open.
"Oh, thank you, Samuel." Chloe walked in, her eyes
bright with amusement, her cheeks pinkened with cold. She was followed by three young men, also laughing.
Hugo looked in vain for some female chaperoning presence… one of her escort's sisters or at the very least a maid. But his ward had a lamentable habit of dispensing with such niceties. For some reason she seemed to avoid censure by all but the highest sticklers for behavior that in anyone else would be considered fast. But he'd seen her charm the severest matrons with the sweet smile and soft voice that she knew how to use to advantage. A crafty little fox was Miss Gresham.
"Hugo, you're acquainted with Lord Bentham and Sir Frank Manton?" Chloe was saying, drawing off her gloves. "But I don't know if you know Denis DeLacy. He's only recently come to town."
Hugo felt the ground shift beneath his feet. The young man was the spitting image of his father, Brian DeLacy. Brian, a close friend of Stephen Gresham's, had been a chief player in the crypt. Brian had witnessed his friend's death.
"I believe you knew my father, Sir Hugo," Denis was saying, offering a frank smile. "He died two years ago, but I seem to remember his mentioning your name."
It could be perfectly innocent. They had been friends of a kind, members of the same social set. But what if Brian had told his son that Hugo had been a member of the Congregation? Did this young man know the story of Stephen Gresham's death?
Hugo forced himself to smile and shake the man's hand. He murmured some platitude while his thoughts tumbled in his head. They were all sworn to secrecy over the duel… a secrecy that surely encompassed a man's son. But supposing Brian had broken his oath?
"I hadn't seen your father for many years," he said. "The war curtailed many friendships."
"I came back to fetch Dante," Chloe informed him
cheerfully, for once too intent on her own plans to notice Hugo's abstraction. "We're going to take him for a walk in Green Park."
"Did you leave your female companion outside the door?" Hugo queried, raising his eyebrows. "How very impolite, Chloe."
There was an awkward silence, then young Lord Ben-tham said, "Fact is, sir, m'sister was to have accompanied us, but she developed a scratchy throat this morning, and it wasn't thought wise for her to go out in the cold."
"No, I quite understand that," Hugo said. "And I'm sure you'll understand if I ask you to excuse us for a few moments while I have a little talk with my ward."
Without waiting for a response, he swept Chloe into the library and closed the door on her three escorts.
"You're going to be stuffy," Chloe stated.
"It won't do," he said firmly. "I'm sorry, I know you think it ridiculous, and so to a certain extent do I, but you may not racket around the town in the company of a gaggle of young men. Why don't you persuade one of your girlfriends to join you?"
"It's not so amusing," Chloe said with disarming candor.
Hugo was betrayed into a half-smile. He guessed that after ten years in the unrelieved company of her own sex, his ward was finding the devoted attentions of the male thoroughly diverting.
"So I may go?" she said, seeing his expression soften and drawing the wrong conclusion.
"No, you may not."
"Dante needs the exercise," she tried with a hopeful smile.
"Then you'll have to endure my dull company, lass."
"You aren't dull," she said. "But…"
"But I'm not three young men making sheeps' eyes at
you." He shook his head. "Go and give your swains their tickets of leave and then come back. There's something I have to discuss with you."
Disappointed but resigned, Chloe did as she was told and came back to the library.
"How would you like to be a duchess?" Hugo asked.
"Not at all," she replied promptly. "Alresford?"
He nodded. "Consider for a minute, Chloe. Apart from the title, he's young, good-looking, rich. Alresford Castle is one of the stateliest homes in the land. The mansion in Berkeley Square-"
"But I don't want to marry him." Chloe interrupted the catalogue of her suitor's virtues with the simple statement.
Hugo sighed. "And you don't want to marry Viscount Bartlett, or Charles Knightley, or the Earl of Ridgefield."
"No," Chloe agreed.
"I don't think you realize, lass, that when you have practically every eligible bachelor in the ton at your feet, you have an obligation to accept one of their offers."
"I don't see why."
"Because that's the way Society works," he said, losing patience. "You insisted on having a come-out so you could find a suitable husband, and now you reject anyone who has the temerity to offer for you. What do you want'"