The Duke I'm Going to Marry(28)

His eyebrows arched upward, an obvious sign of his surprise. “It isn’t my place to say, Miss Dillie.”

“But say it anyway. Please, Pruitt. It’s important for me to know how you feel about him.”

“No,” he said, leveling a gentle, grandfatherly gaze on her. “What matters is how you feel about him. However, I can tell you that he isn’t the sort to steal the silverware.”

She frowned at him. “That isn’t very helpful. I know he’s honest. But what else is he?”

He shook his head and sighed. “You’ll have to ask him. However, I don’t think he knows the answer to that question yet.”

Dillie thanked him and walked off to retrieve the book she had been reading in the library. Her thoughts were as muddled as ever as she made her way upstairs and retired to her bedchamber. She wished someone had answers to give her. Her twin had always been the one she turned to for advice.

She missed Lily.

By eight o’clock that evening, she and her parents were stepping down from their carriage into the cool evening. They made their way slowly up the grand steps of the Wakeford townhouse in the queue of guests to be announced. The rain had swept through London hours ago, leaving a starry sky overhead and a cool, but dry, breeze.

The receiving line moved quickly. Either that or Dillie was more distracted than she realized. They soon entered the hall and Dillie took a moment to glance about while their names were called out. The Wakeford home was ablaze with light. There were long tapers dripping wax from a row of crystal chandeliers lining the ceiling. The flames from the tapers reflected off the crystal fixtures in glistening bursts of red and amber. More candles blazed in decorative sconces along the walls, casting the elegant Wakeford home in a warm, golden glow.

Ladies and gentlemen chatted and merrily greeted friends as they removed their wraps and handed them to waiting footmen. Dillie stood back a moment to take in the display of finery, the breathtaking shimmer of silks and satins on the women and the fine black coats worn by the men. She glanced down at her own attire. She wore ivory silk trimmed with a pale blue ribbon immediately below the bodice. Her gown was quite simple compared with some of the more lavish designs worn by the older ladies—no bows or ruffles, no intricate lacework to complicate the style.

Her jewelry was simple as well. A strand of pearls adorned her throat, the necklace a family heirloom. Every Farthingale girl was expected to wear it at some point during her debut season. Being a twin, she’d had to wait until now, for Lily was several minutes older and had been given the pleasure last season. In truth, it was less of a pleasure and more of an ordeal, for neither she nor her sisters ever wanted to be the one to lose those precious pearls, something that could easily happen during the mad crush of a ton party.

Her sister, Daisy, had actually lost the necklace once. Fortunately, Gabriel had found it for her, and none of the family elders had ever learned about the incident. Dillie closed her eyes and silently prayed that she’d make it through the evening without any mishaps. When she opened them a moment later, Charles Ealing stood before her. “Miss Farthingale, you’re looking as lovely as a gardenia blossom.”

She smiled back at him. She disliked gardenias almost as much as she disliked sardines, but Charles had no way of knowing that. He looked surprisingly handsome. The black of his formal jacket slimmed his slightly round frame, making him appear taller and less lumpy than usual.

“My cousin is visiting from Little Dorking. Do you know her? Lady Mary Abbott? She was widowed last year and has finally rejoined the living, so to speak. I’m duty bound to offer her the first dance, but will you save the second for me?”

She nodded. “That will be lovely.”

“Good. Good.” He bowed over her hand and made a hasty retreat to the opposite side of the ballroom where his family stood in wait for him. Among them was a delicately built blonde beauty who appeared to be searching the crowd for someone in particular. No doubt she was the widow, for Dillie recognized all the other members of his family.

Dillie craned her neck for a better view. She couldn’t see the Ealing family very well, for other guests kept getting in the way. However, she couldn’t help but notice the widow break into a beaming smile as a gentleman approached her.

Dillie’s heart sank. It was Ian.

Lady Mary was obviously pleased to see him, and her smile was in no way innocent. Foolishly, Dillie felt a small pang to her heart. Had she thought Ian would change his rakehell ways? Obviously, he had no intention of it.

“What matters is how the duke feels about her,” Rose said, reaching her side and drawing her away from their parents. “My, he looks handsome. But doesn’t he always? Anyway, that widow isn’t the sort to hold his attention for very long.”