“I shall try, your grace. However, Mrs. Raleigh is a fierce opponent.”
After Bassick had herded the two footmen out of the dining room, the duke leaned back in his high-backed, intricately carved chair that looked fit for royalty, and looked down the table at his cousin-in-law. “There’s too much distance here,” he said. “I hadn’t realized it before. I’ll have Bassick take the leaves out of the table. That should bring it down to no more than ten feet in length.” He lifted his goblet toward her. “Welcome to Chesleigh, Madame. May I be so impertinent as to drink to your health?” “It is kind of you, your grace,” she said, clicked her glass toward him, and took a very small sip. It was exquisite sherry, deep and rich, curling a warm path to her belly. “This is a very impressive room. I believe this table, fully extended, seats at least forty people?”
“About that, yes. Bassick likes to leave it in all its splendor. At least he moved the three epergnes so that we could see each other. Oh, yes, it occurred to me earlier when I was with my son that I don’t know your name.”
“De la Valette.”
“No, your given name.”
“It is Evangeline, your grace.”
“A lovely name, that.” She’d behaved just as she should during dinner, what with Bassick and the footmen hovering, speaking of mundane things that neither cared a farthing about. He matched her, never leaving any lurching pauses in the conversation, a coolly friendly host, not overly interested in either his dinner or in his guest.
“My mother selected it, she told me. She was older when she birthed me, and thus when I came, she thought I was a miracle. She said that Evangeline was her name of thanks for me.” She broke off, realizing that what she’d just said, she’d never told another person in her life. She just stared at him.
“When I was born, so my father told me later, my mother looked at me and said, ‘Saints be praised. Finally I have the heir.’ She’d had three miscarriages before she carried me.” “You were a miracle too.”
“When you meet my mother, you will have to ask her that.”
“I doubt that will happen,” she said, then sucked in her breath. She’d spilled a bit of Cook’s excellent gravy on the sleeve of her gown, her only gown fit for evening wear. She quickly dabbed it with water and patted it dry. She had no other gown. It was highwaisted dark gray muslin, with no ruffles or lace or underskirts. At least it was one of hers, not one that Houchard or his damned mistress has selected. She looked down the table at him, the glow of soft candlelight making his black hair gleam, admiring his formal black evening wear and his stark white linen. Her child’s memories of seven years ago, frozen in time, hadn’t done the real man justice. He was magnificent, and of course he was well aware of that.
That made her smile. She looked to be exactly what she wanted him to believe. So they were both exactly right for what they wished to present to the world. “You are smiling at your glass of sherry.” “Oh, no, that smile had nothing to do with any libation.” “What did it have to do with?” “I will tell you the truth, your grace. I was thinking that the two of us very nicely suit exactly what we are.”
“I am a gentleman and you are a lady. I see nothing in that to make you smile. It wouldn’t make me smile. What would make me smile is a beautiful woman walking through that door wearing only sheer veils to tease me.”
“I doubt a gentleman would say that. He would think it but hardly say it. Isn’t that true? Veils?”
“Let me say that my mother would probably prefer that I only think of such things. That way she wouldn’t have to act all flustered. Although now that I think about it, I seem to remember my parents laughing when they didn’t realize I was close by.”
“Laughter is an excellent thing. My father and mother laughed as well, and at the strangest times.”
“I know exactly what you mean. I remember seeing my father kiss my mother. He had her pressed against a wall, and he was kissing her thoroughly. It’s something I’ve never forgotten. Naturally, I didn’t understand at the time.” He paused a moment, then said low, “My father’s death has been difficult for her.” “And for you as well.”
“Yes. All my friends wanted to visit me simply because my father was the best of parents. He took to all my friends, treated them just as he should, made them want to be brave and solid and honorable.” A lump was in his throat. He hated it, but he couldn’t prevent it. He also couldn’t prevent speaking of his father, a man he believed to be the best father in all the world. He thought of Edmund and what he had missed by losing his grandfather. He shook his head. “Do you find your bedchamber satisfactory?”
“Very. I remember that Marissa had excellent taste. The bedchamber combines
her favorite colors, light blue and cream.”
“I don’t know about Marissa’s taste. I have never set foot in her bedchamber.”
Chapter 7
He’d never visited his wife’s bedchamber?
She started to open her mouth, to ask him, quite frankly, if he’d never visited his wife’s bedchamber, then how could he produce a son.
He knew exactly what was in her mind at that moment. Her thoughts were writ clearly on her expressive face. She had no guile. She would have to learn if she was ever to enter Society.
“I bedded my wife. I just never bedded her in her own bed. Actually, Marissa never touched the rest of the castle. She didn’t care to stay here. She much preferred London. Indeed, she was only here when she was pregnant with Edmund.” He picked up a fork and lightly began tapping it against the white tablecloth. “She hated the sea, the dampness. She looked forward to birthing Edmund here so she could return to London. She’s buried in the Chesleigh family plot in the churchyard in Chesleigh village. You can visit her grave if you wish.”
His voice, when he’d spoken of his father, had been filled with passion. With Marissa his voice was expressionless. She said, “Do you spend much time here at Chesleigh, your grace?”
“I try to spend a quarter of the year here. Besides the London town house, where my mother currently resides, there are three other houses in England. I am responsible for the Chesleigh properties. I spend time at all of them.”
Spoken like a duke, she thought, a man who knew his responsibilities and accepted them. Well, she would remain at Chesleigh. Houchard had been adamant about that, at least until she received further instructions.
“Truth be told,” he continued after a moment, “like Marissa and my mother, I prefer London. I have many friends there. There are countless attractions.”