into coils that emphasised a pale and slender neck. She was staring down at him, as if uncertain whether to descend.
He smiled and bowed. ‘Miss Harley, your obedient.’
‘Mr Melhurst.’ Her foot went back beside the other one. She did not want to go down to him, did not want the humiliation of having to express her gratitude all over again. It would not have been so bad if he had not been so insufferably arrogant. But she could not turn away. His eyes, appraising her, held her mesmerised.
A servant came along the corridor and disappeared into the room he had just left and in a flash she had fled and he was left staring at nothing. Smiling, he descended to the ground floor where the footman who had admitted him rose from his chair to open the front door for him.
He continued to smile as he was driven away. He had been wrong to think of Miss Harley as a chit, only lately out of the schoolroom; it was that strange garb which had made her seem so young. In that exquisite dress she looked poised and mature enough to be already out. There was no need for the Duke and Duchess to drag suitors in from the street, they must be flocking round her. His amused condescension had taken a strange and disturbing turn. He found himself wishing he was not heading for Newmarket.
‘Sophie, whatever were you thinking of, asking Mr Melhurst to go to Beechgrove?’ James asked. ‘I could have sent a courier with a note. We are indebted to him enough as it is.’
‘Oh, he did not mind.’
‘Whether he minded or not, is not the point. Why did you do it?’
‘He is a very fine gentleman, don’t you think? And aware of the delicacy of the situation. And servants talk…’
‘Not ours, or they would not be in my employ.’
She ignored that. ‘And he did offer.’
‘To go to Beechgrove? I did not hear him say so, until you asked him.’
‘Not to go to Beechgrove, I did not mean that. I heard you talking to him before I came in. He said he would do the honourable thing.’
‘You did not take that seriously, surely?’
‘Why not? He is handsome and wealthy, judging by the equipage he arrived in, and your father knew his grandfather, so he must be of some consequence.’
‘What is that to the point? We know nothing about him. I seem to remember some scandal which made it necessary for him to leave the country.’
‘Pooh, to that. You forget my papa had to do the same thing and you did not hold that against me.’
He laughed. ‘That was not your fault.’
‘And whatever it is may not have been Mr Melhurst’s fault. You should not judge him before you know the truth, James.’
He laughed suddenly. ‘And supposing Beth is not compliant. She is a true Dersingham and a more stubborn one I have yet to meet. She will not be driven.’
‘Oh, James, credit me with a little more sense than that. I am merely making it possible for the acquaintanceship to blossom. Harriet is bound to be grateful and will invite him to call again.’
‘On the other hand, the gentleman might consider Beth too much of a hoyden for his taste and decline.’
‘He has seen the worst of her and now we must show him the best. I do not consider Beth a hoyden, she is intelligent and spirited and very beautiful when she is properly dressed.’
‘And is she properly dressed now?’
‘I believe so. I left her with Rose who has found one of my gowns for her.’
‘Then send for her.’
‘You are not going to give her a jobation, are you, James? She knows how bad she has been and is full of remorse. Scolding her will not make her more compliant—it might even drive her to be more outrageous.’
‘I cannot ignore what she has done.’
‘No, but be gentle with her, James. If it had not been for you sending Toby away as if he had caused some dreadful scandal, she would not have felt misused.’
‘I was endeavouring to prevent a scandal.’
‘Beth is not in love with Mr Kendall, James, there was nothing improper in their relationship. She finds him interesting because of his love and knowledge of botany, a passion she shares. You should talk to her about it, you might be surprised at how much she knows on the subject.’
‘You are telling me I have made a mull of it.’
She laughed lightly. ‘I would not dare to criticise the great Duke of Belfont, known for his wisdom and good sense. Why, even the King listens to your advice.’
He smiled at her flummery and turned as the door opened and Beth made her way into the room and curtsied before him, bending her head very low so that he could only see the shining top of her coiffure.
‘Sit down, Beth,’ he commanded. ‘I am glad to see you safely here.’
She sat and waited.
‘You must be hungry,’ Sophie said, ringing the hand bell at her side.
‘A little.’ She was more than a little hungry—she had not eaten since the evening before and she was ravenous. It was why she had taken her courage in her hands and come down. Even then she had paused outside the door before entering and it was how she came to hear all their conversation. She was disappointed in her aunt. Not only had she seen fit to tell the Duke everything, she seemed to be determined to marry her off to Mr Melhurst and that was something she would never consider, even though he appeared to have offered. Surely one short ride in an enclosed coach had not compromised her reputation to such an extent?
She did not even like him, he was pompous with her while he toadied to her uncle when he had promised to try and keep the Duke out of it. And what was that about a scandal and having to live abroad? Did that mean he had done something terrible? Had he wrecked some other lady’s reputation? Had he cheated at cards? Had he killed someone in a duel? She would not put any of those past him. Did he suppose she had a vast dowry? If Mr Andrew Melhurst thought he would be marrying a wealthy heiress, he was very mistaken; her uncle was generous, but not so as to make her wealthy. Besides, even if Mr Melhurst was the soul of virtue, she would never agree; he was the symbol of her mortification. She refused to listen to the tiny voice of reason that was telling her she was being unjust.
A servant arrived in answer to the Duchess’s summons. ‘Tell Didoner we are ready for supper now,’ she instructed him.
Beth would rather have had something in her room, and had opened her mouth to say so, but then she saw her aunt slowly shaking her head and realised she was going to have to endure a meal with the Duke, who would either ignore her as if she were not there or subject her to a roasting all the way through the meal. She was not sure which would be worse.
In the event, he did neither. Didoner, their French chef, was a perfectionist and the meals he produced were always first class, whether they were for the Duke and Duchess alone, or a vast company, and Beth did hers justice. There was turbot and shrimps, game and ham, not to
