Page 21 of I Never Forget a Duke (The Night Fire Club #1)

E state management was a struggle when Hugh could only remember about half of what his secretary insisted was a great deal of knowledge and experience.

Killingworth, Hugh’s secretary, had given up on having Hugh solve complex mathematics equations.

“Your solicitor, Mr. Hogarth, has also requested a meeting to discuss some parcel of land in Kent,” said Killingworth.

“Very well. Set up the appointment.”

Killingworth now turned his attention toward sorting through the vast number of social invitations he’d received in the last week.

“I don’t know if I am up for a ball,” said Hugh.

The dowager walked into his office then as if summoned. “A ball?”

“Mother, I can’t possibly—”

“Listen to me, my darling. You do not have to accept every invitation that has been sent, and in your prior life, you would have only gone to perhaps one out of five of these events, so your behavior will be viewed as typical and no one will feel slighted.”

“How can people not feel slighted if I don’t attend many events? Why waste paper on me if I don’t plan to attend?”

“Because you are the Duke of Swynford.”

Hugh sighed.

“Did I ever tell you, I have an ancestor who married the Duke of Lancaster? This was back when the Lancasters and Yorks were trying to steal the throne from each other.”

“I imagine you have told me this, but I do not remember the particulars.” He had, at his mother’s insistence, been reading a heavy tome on the history of England, and he’d just gotten to the Wars of the Roses, so at least he had a frame of reference.

And if his ancestor had married the Duke of Lancaster, that ancestor had lived some 350 years ago.

He wondered how this could possibly have relevance now, but he supposed she would tell him.

Which she did. Helena Baxter swept into the room with all the regal stature of a duchess descended from kings.

“She was a common ancestor between your father and I. Imagine my consternation as I pored over one of those huge tomes at Swynford House that included the Baxter family tree. And there it was, the name of the woman who was both a many times great-aunt to me and a direct ancestor of your father’s.

And it is precisely because we can trace our lineage back to these great dukes and duchesses of the past, and indeed to royalty since your Aunt Katherine married Prince William a few generations ago, that we are considered important.

It is that lineage that makes everyone want you to attend their parties.

The very history of Britain moves through your veins.

Not to mention, you are handsome and wealthy and any woman you meet would be a fool to refuse your attentions. ”

“Thank you for spelling that out, Mother.”

“You see, it does not matter if you turn them down because they live in hope that one day you will accept. But that is only because you do attend some parties, so everyone remains hopeful. Therefore, I shall choose which parties are best for you to attend. Hand me those invitations.”

Hugh was not certain why he was dreading all this. Partly, he was tired; Killingworth had been bombarding him with information all day and it was exhausting to try to process all of it.

Killingworth passed the dowager a thick stack of invitations. She sorted through them and tossed a great number on the floor. Hugh tried to see the names on them as they fell. He did not know most of them.

“Ah, here. The Marquess and Marchioness of Wakefield are having a coming out party for one of their daughters. The Marchioness and I have long been great friends. I shall even accompany you to that one. I should like to see Amelia again.” She placed the invitation on the settee beside her.

“Oh, and dinner with the Sackvilles. Baron Sackville is a marvelous art collector and his dinner parties are always a hoot, so that should be quite pleasant.” She tossed a few more invitations on the floor.

“And the Duke of Ardmore is having a party to celebrate the arrival of some friends from Paris by the looks of it. You must attend that. Do you remember Ardmore?”

“I don’t.”

“The duke himself is a fusspot, but his family is delightful.” Helena tossed the remaining invitations over her shoulder.

“There, that’s sorted. These are the only events worth being seen at.

And I promise, you do not have to stay long if you get dizzy.

But we must keep up appearances if we are to make everyone believe you merely had a spot of illness and were not seriously ill or residing with the Countess of Sweeney. ”

The way his mother wrapped the name “Sweeney” in disgust surprised Hugh. “What is wrong with the Countess of Sweeney?”

“Well, she’s nearly broke, for one thing. And her son is very good at losing at cards. So good, in fact, that he hardly shows his face in London anymore because he owes quite a bit of money to some unsavory characters.”

“Does the countess know that?”

“I do not know how it would be possible that she doesn’t.”

Hugh considered. “It never came up in conversation while I was there. I did not meet the earl. I was told he was at his country home with his family.”

“Is it true the countess has some old spinster as a paid companion?”

“No. That is, she has a paid companion who is an unmarried daughter of an earl, but the countess’s companion is not old. She is six and twenty.”

“And homely, I take it, if she’s still on the shelf.”

Hugh did not want to have this conversation with his mother, but he said, “Lady Adele is a respectable woman who took good care of me while I was out of sorts.”

“As well she should have, given who you are.”

“She did not know who I was when I arrived on her doorstep, since I did not know who I was. I could have been any stranger, a man with no wealth or title. And she took me in and cared for me anyway. Do you not think that shows some strength of character?”

“I suppose it does.”

Killingworth gathered up the discarded invitations and dumped them in a wastebasket. “Well, Your Graces, if there is nothing else, I will respond in the affirmative to the chosen invitations. Shall I indicate that you will both be attending all three events.”

“Yes, I think that best,” said the dowager. “Now that I have Hugh back, I find myself reluctant to let him out of my sight.”

Hugh rolled his eyes. He loved his mother, but he found he did not like her controlling his life. “Please excuse me for the next few minutes, at least,” he told her.

“Dinner in an hour.”

“Yes, of course. I was just going to go dress for it.”

Helena patted Hugh’s shoulder and took her leave. So Hugh walked to his bedroom. He shrugged out of the jacket he’d been wearing. Ventnor appeared as if from nowhere and took the jacket from him.

“This linen will wrinkle,” said Ventnor, walking to the closet. “Really, Your Grace, you cannot just discard your clothing on the floor.”

Hugh felt tired suddenly. “I dressed myself during my convalescence.”

“Yes, and it was abundantly clear when you walked back in here. What would you like to wear for dinner, Your Grace.”

“Remind me why I cannot wear my day clothes to dinner?”

“It is not done. Also, Lord Rutherford is coming to dinner at Her Grace’s request, so there will be company. I think the black formal jacket will do nicely. Perhaps the blue waistcoat.”

“Whatever you think, Ventnor.”

A few minutes later, Hugh was dressed properly enough to please Ventnor. He recognized his jacket as being the one he’d worn the night he’d landed on Adele’s doorstep, which of course made him think of Adele. Ventnor ran a brush over it to remove any lint.

“I suppose the family you stayed with did an admirable job of cleaning this coat,” said Ventnor. “I have always liked it. I would have been sad if it had been permanently damaged.”

“I imagine it must have picked up some dirt from the street.”

“Perhaps. But here we are, good as new.” As Ventnor smoothed the front of the coat, his hand caught on something. “I believe there is something in the pocket, Your Grace.”

Hugh reached into the pocket inside his jacket and found a folded piece of paper. It was the note Adele had left him on his last morning at the Sweeney house. He read it and reread it. Then he refolded the note and left it on top of a chest of drawers.

He knew he must see her again.

So resolved, he said, “Nothing to worry about, Ventnor. Do I look presentable enough for dinner?”

Ventnor smirked. “You’ll do.”

*

Lark looked both ways as he snuck out of the empty cloakroom. Bless the warm weather outside; no one wanted to check their coats at the door.

He checked his hair in a mirror before he returned to his friends, still ensconced in their usual spot near a fireplace. Lark was elated to see Hugh laughing with Owen and Fletcher as he approached.

When Lark was just a short distance from his chair, Anthony caught up with him. Anthony’s long hair had fallen out of the ribbon he’d used to tie it back. Lark’s fingers itched to run through it, but he instead shoved his hands behind his back.

“I meant to ask, will you be attending the Wakefield ball?”

“Looks that way. Swynford is making his grand reentry into society after his brief illness and has asked me for moral support.”

Anthony tilted his head. “Is Swynford’s health still poor?”

“No, he’s perfectly fine. But you know how he loathes balls.”

Anthony nodded. “That is because the mamas of the ton throw their daughters at him like dockworkers throwing cargo from a ship. Cultivating a reputation for being the sort of man who may or may not indulge in certain unspeakable acts allows me to avoid most of that.”

Lark shook his head. “You are going to get yourself hanged one of these days.”

“If I am, it will have been worth it.” Anthony grinned, then said, “Do you suppose that when you have the cover of a respectable wife, you will still find the time to bugger me in cloakrooms?”