The Accidental Duke (The Mad Matchmaking Men of Waterloo Book 1) by Devlin, Barbara (the best electronic book reader .txt) 📗

for any signs of distress. “Shall we assume our respective positions, since I believe our first arrivals approach the threshold?”

A series of hushed whispers preceded the tour of the receiving line, when the invitees noted the significance of the arrangement, which included a rare sighting of Her Grace, and Mama gushed like a giddy debutante, while inside Arabella wept. Would it not have been easier and much less trouble to hire a herald?

“I contacted my solicitor about converting my assets into usable resources.” Anthony paused to acknowledge another guest. Then he bent his head and said, in a low voice, “It could take a sennight, or more, to sell my properties, so I instructed him to begin the process, posthaste.”

“Are you sure that is wise?” With a fake smile, she welcomed another interloper. “Our parents conspire against us, and this spontaneous celebration does not bode well for our plans.”

“Then we must delay, by any means.” He stiffened his spine, and she noted the fine sheen of perspiration on his brow and the subtle but growing pants as he fought to draw breath. Recalling their discussion at Gunter’s, and what he braved at war, she pledged to support him in all enterprises. “Feign illness, if necessary.”

“It will be fine, Lord Rockingham.” As he fidgeted with his cravat, she recalled Dr. Larrey’s advice and sought a distraction. “Cook serves delicious pork ribs, and there are four courses, including a mouthwatering cheesecake, so I hope you brought your appetite.”

“I am not hungry,” he replied with a frown.

All right, she required another diversion.

“Papa purchased an expensive box of cigars for the occasion.” Grasping at threads, she employed pedestrian bits of minutiae to avoid disaster. According to Dr. Larrey, anxiety would only increase Anthony’s torment, causing him to act in a disturbing manner, which would not aid their cause. If possible, she would spare him further shame and a trip to an asylum. “And there is fine Spanish brandy, too.”

“I prefer French.” Little by little, he calmed while they conversed. “But I will drink whatever the host provides.”

“Perhaps the Shrewsbury cakes are more to your liking?” Her mind raced, when he offered a slight smile, and Arabella aimed to keep it there for the remains of the evening and beyond. “Or should I send a footman to Gunter’s for a vast deal more than decent portion of the neige de pistachio you favor, because you all but licked the dish?”

“Now you have my attention.” Ah, the boyish demeanor emerged, and Anthony winked. “How I enjoyed that afternoon in your company.”

“Oh, I echo your sentiments, because I delight in talking to you.” Indeed, she loved talking to him, because he treated her like an adult. Their parents followed the last of the guests into the grand dining room, which adjoined the ballroom and featured two long tables, and Papa waved a summons. “I suppose we must do our duty, Lord Rockingham.” She settled her palm in the crook of his arm. “Shall we join the party?”

“I would rather surrender my other limb.” When she gave him a nudge, he met her stare, and his unutterable helplessness called to her on some basic level which she could not ignore. “Will you stay with me?”

Something inside her melted.

“Boney, himself, could not drag me from your side.” For a scarce second, Anthony simply stood there, and Arabella desperately wanted to hold him, to console him, to reassure him that she would allow no one to harm him. “And whatever happens, we will face it, together.”

“Perhaps you should escape to the Continent with me?” He chuckled, even as she considered the offer. “I can compose a suitable story to satisfy the ton’s thirst for gossip, shouldering the blame, because my family can bear the brunt of the scandal. What say you, Lady Arabella? Fancy a sail?”

“I would love nothing more, Lord Rockingham, but I cannot abandon my parents.” In the dining room, she was shocked to discover the seating arrangements conflicted with social edicts, because she had been assigned a position of prominence to the left of His Grace, and Anthony occupied the chair beside her. Per the rules of polite decorum, her fiancé should have been placed opposite her, and she should have been located near the center of the table. Gooseflesh covered her. Leaning close, she whispered, “Anthony, I think we are in trouble, because our parents appear euphoric, and I can only guess at the reason.”

“I would wager you are correct.” He paled and flinched, when the butler opened a bottle of champagne, the first in a series. “It looks as if your father’s domestics prepare for a toast.”

“Oh, no.” Along with the Sèvres porcelain and polished silver settings, Mama deployed the Baccarat crystal, and the walls seemed to collapse on Arabella. “Anthony, promise me something.”

“Anything, my lady.” Shielded by the expensive linens, he clasped her hand. “What is it, Arabella?”

Strange, he actually tried to comfort her, and she glanced at the tray of glasses filled with the bubbly intoxicant. “Whatever happens, you will pay attention to me, to my eyes, to the sound of my voice, as we proceed through the evening.”

“Why?” The butler uncorked another bottle, and Anthony started.

“Because we can survive the awkward affair if we rely on each other and present a united front.” To her relief, no one noticed his blanched complexion, the lines of stress etched about the corner of his eyes, or the rigid set of his lips. “Agreed?”

In that moment, Their Graces stood, and the crowd quieted. In silence, Anthony indicated the affirmative with a nod.

“My honored guests, it is my distinct pleasure to welcome you to this informal dinner, and I must begin the festivities by expressing my thanks to Lord Ainsworth, my longtime friend, for temporarily ceding hosting duties that I might share the reason for this little gathering and allay your curiosity.” The duke stared at Arabella and Anthony, and she shifted, as she would wager her most cherished book she could recite the forthcoming report.