Page 51 of My Darling Mr. Darling

“Look who has come to dinner!” the duchess trilled, as John took her to her seat. “It’s been weeks at least. John, have you any news since last we’ve seen you?”

“Yes, John,” Alex said in a dangerous tone. “Have you any news?” The threat layering his voice suggested that John had betternothave, if he knew what was good for him. The very last thing he wanted was for John to announce himself a married man, for then the whole of the duchess’ formidable attentions would be upon him.

As he settled into his own chair, John glanced across the table in time to catch Grey smirking into his soup bowl—because hewouldbe enjoying this, the bastard.

“As it happens, I have,” John said.

“I’m sure you’re mistaken,” said Alex.

Serena choked on her wine and murmured some sort of excuse, patting her mouth with her napkin to hide a smile.

“Alex, donotbe difficult,” the duchess said severely. “Let John speak. It’s been quite a long time since last we’ve seen him.”

“I beg your pardon, Mother. I see him a great deal more often than you, and I’m not interested in his news.” Alex slunk in his seat like a recalcitrant child, slanting John a warning glance.

“Well, Iaminterested,” the duchess replied with a delicate sniff. “Honestly, what has gotten into you? You’ve been so disagreeable of late. I’ve half a mind to send you to bed without supper.”

Serena snickered, then jerked—John supposed that Grey must have kicked her beneath the table to keep her quiet.

“Mother. I am not a child to be sent to bed without my supper. I’m a bloodyduke,” Alex pinched the bridge of his nose, slouching over his glass of wine.

“You might have fooled me,” the duchess said, stoically enduring an exasperated glance from her beloved only child. “Now, John—do tell me your news.”

It wasn’t that he didn’twantto tell her the truth of it. It was that Alex, now out of eyesight of his mother since she had turned toward John to give him all of her attention, cast such a pleading, sulky look at him that he found he could not quite bring himself to speak the words.Pitiful. If theTonhad any inkling of the dramatics Alex was capable of, he’d be laughed out of London.

And probably still married, besides, because a duke was a duke, after all, and a lady in want of a husband did not refuse a duke simply because he had an incredible flair for melodrama.

“It’s not so muchnewsas a request,” he said, stirring his soup spoon in the bowl of silky white broth that a footman had set before him. “There’s a young lady.”

“Oh?” inquired the duchess archly, pursing her lips as if to contain the myriad questions that no doubt wanted to spill forth. “A young lady?”

“Yes. She is the daughter of my former business partner.” Cognizant of Alex’s glare settled solidly upon him, John added, “She was my ward, after a fashion. More or less.” Lessandmore, more like. He’d been less than exemplary as a guardian, after all, and hardly better as a husband.

Though that, perhaps, could change.

“Hmm,” the duchess said, uncharacteristically reserved, as if she hesitated to showtoomuch interest. She put John in mind of a fisherman casually dragging a baited hook through the water, waiting for the fish to commit to a bite before hauling in the catch. “And what is your request, then?”

Now it was not just Alex’s stare he endured, but Grey’s and Serena’s as well, and John concentrated upon his soup as if he were not aware of their eyes upon him. “Violet has only lately arrived in London,” he said, though that was notquitetrue, “and her connections are few. She could benefit from your friendship.” In truth, Violet could benefit from a mother, and John had never known a more motherly sort than the duchess.

“Violet?” the duchess inquired, her head canting toward Serena as she indicated to a nearby footman to remove her bowl of soup. “Isn’t that the name of—”

“Yes; Violet is currently managing the gentlemen’s class at my school,” Serena said. “I had considered asking if I might bring her to dinner, but I didn’t wish to presume.”

“Nonsense,” the duchess said, with a flippant wave of her hand. “Too long has my dinner table been dominated by boys. A womandoeswant a little feminine company from time to time, you know.”

“Boys?” Alex sputtered, his back stiffening to steel rigidity. “Mother!”

“Don’t be tedious; you know precisely what I mean,” the duchess said. To Serena, she confided, “I did always wish for a daughter, you know.”

“Mother!” Alex waved his napkin about in mortal offense, as if in imminent threat of falling victim to the vapors. “How could you! Am I not enough for you?”

John coughed to disguise a laugh, turning his attention to his plate, upon which had been placed a filet of sole smothered in a delicate cream sauce redolent of thyme and cracked pepper.

“Alex,” the duchess chided, carving off a flaky bit of fish and popping it into her mouth. “Your theatrics are entirely uncalled for. Besides,” she snipped, “Dear Grey has given me a lovely daughter in Serena, and you—youcontinue to gad about town without theslightestconcession to the ducal—”

“Ducal line of succession,” Alex concluded, his voice tinged with annoyance. “Yes, Iknow. AndDear Greyhas had a place at this table for all of two months, I will remind you. Am I so easily supplanted?”

“Give me a daughter-in-law,” the duchess suggested, all saccharine sweetness, “and we shall find out.” She angled her chin in the lofty way that John had long ago learned indicated that she was about to share a tidbit of information that she considered to be of the utmost importance. “You will learn, my dearest son, that family is what you make of it. I always wished for a large family, you know, but—alas, it was not to be.” She glanced down at her plate briefly as her expression faltered, and John felt a surge of sympathy. The late duke—Alex’s father—had passed well over two decades ago, but the loss clearly still pained his bereaved wife, who had never ceased to mourn him.