Page 42 of Her Heartless Duke

“Will you be all right?” she heard Isaac ask her, worry clear in his handsome features.

“Y-your Grace…”

She tried to reach out for him, but her entire arm felt like granite and she could not find the strength to raise even her hand as Daniel carried her out of the ballroom.

Isaac…

His name was the last thought on her mind as she succumbed to the darkness.

CHAPTERSEVENTEEN

Horace had been the butler of Anderleigh Hall since His Grace had been in swaddling clothes, and he had seen his master grow from a babe to a young man. In all his years of service, he had developed a keen sense for what his master needed and a rather independent mind of his own, and in his opinion, it was a good night whenever the kindly, old Frenchman came to Anderleigh Hall for a visit.

“Bon soir, mon ami,” he greeted the old butler jovially. “His Grace is inside, I presume?”

“Oui, Monsieur Pierre,” Horace replied happily. “He has been in residence for the past three weeks.”

“Oh?” the Frenchman looked pleasantly surprised. “I suppose he has eschewed his previous lifestyle of excess?”

“Oh, quite so!” the butler nodded excitedly as he led Pierre up the stairs. Then, he leaned in with a conspiratorial whisper, “And just two weeks ago, he brought a young lady with him!”

Monsieur Pierre pursed his lips. “Eh? This… youngmademoiselle, she is not his mistress?”

“Oh, no, no, no!” Horace waved his hands in front of him and shook his head vehemently. “She appears to be the sister of the Earl of Lancashire, an old friend of His Grace. But…” he lowered his voice and leaned in closer to the Frenchman. “There seems to be something amiss with the young lady, for I saw her collapse one time.”

“Collapse?” Now, MonsieurPierre looked a little alarmed.

Horace nodded. “Yes, but no physician was summoned for. Lady Olivia convinced His Grace that she was fine somehow, although I have never seen a person of that pallor being fine at all.”

“Pallor, you say? Very well, if His Grace brings it up, perhaps I might be of help.”

“I hoped as much,MonsieurPierre,” the butler cast him an encouraging look. “This one, I believe, is different from all the others.”

“Let us pray then that all will be well with the young lady and His Grace.”

The butler showedMonsieurPierre into the study, where Isaac had already been waiting with a bottle of fine red wine—the doctor’s particular favorite. The Duke raised his eyebrow when he saw them share a look, before Horace quietly excused himself and closed the door behind him.

“Horace has been gossiping about me behind my back again, has he not?” he inquired.

The Frenchman merely laughed. “He has your best interests at heart, Your Grace.”

“He means well, I suppose,” Isaac shrugged as he stepped forward to shake the man’s hand. “It has been a long time, Colonel Pierre.”

“I much prefer the titleDoctorPierre, presently,” the old doctor smiled. “I have left the battles behind me at the Peninsula many years ago.”

“If it only could be as simple for the rest of us,” Isaac murmured.

Pierre raised a gray eyebrow at the younger man. “Are the nightmares still plaguing you, Your Grace?”

Isaac shrugged. “Not as much as before.”

“Oh, a fine improvement. Perhaps you have taken up some hobbies as I suggested,oui?”

The Duke looked at his guest and replied blandly, “Dancing.”

Doctor Pierre blinked at that. “Pardonnez-moi…dancing?”

“Oui.”