The Duke I'm Going to Marry(32)

More important, was he properly caring for this precious innocent who deserved to be protected no matter how he or she had come into the world?

Dillie scanned the crowd, hoping to find Ian, for he would easily stand out amid the powdered faces in the ballroom. She wanted to slip away to talk to him. Now that Eloise had arrived, there would be no more gossip about him. She was relieved. She’d heard more than enough for one evening.

The orchestra, hidden in the balcony overlooking the dance floor, continued to play the opening waltz. Lord Wakeford was still dancing with his wife, and though they were a little on in years, they seemed to enjoy being in each other’s arms. No wonder the waltz was all the rage in London. Who wouldn’t adore being in the arms of someone they loved?

The choice surprised some of the older ladies who were expecting a traditional quadrille, but it delighted the younger ones who were eager to be swept into the arms of handsome suitors. She noticed Charles and his cousin among the dancers and knew they’d be occupied for the next half hour.

Dillie’s legs felt weak. She politely excused herself and hurried through the double doors that led onto the grand terrace. A gentle breeze blew through her curls as she stepped outside. She expected to be alone, for it was early yet. The music had just started, so there hadn’t been time for the room to heat up. Ladies and gentlemen were whirling and swaying in time to the music, too busy enjoying themselves to consider walking away from the gaiety.

Dillie wasn’t feeling very festive at the moment. She needed time to think, to compose the questions she wished to ask Ian. She wondered where he was. Perhaps dancing? Or playing cards? Then she noticed a gentleman standing in a dimly lit corner of the terrace, his elbows resting on the stone balustrade as he gazed up at the stars.

Dillie shivered. It was a cool, clear night. A half moon cast its silver glow across the Wakeford garden. Thousands of stars twinkled brightly against the black sky. She slipped beside him and joined him in staring at the stars. “Good evening, Your Grace.”

Ian laughed softly. It was a curt, mirthless laugh. “You shouldn’t be out here, Daffy.”

He’d called her Daffy, as he always did when trying to push her away. She gazed at him, wanting to ask questions and not knowing where to start. She had no right to pry into his affairs. She would have been quite put out if he’d meddled in hers. Not that she had anything going on in her life that would interest anyone. Nothing of interest whatsoever. Quite dull. Intensely boring.

She sighed.

He shifted his stance, now straightening to his full height as he returned her stare. “Are you going to gawk at me all evening? I assume you’ve heard the rumors.”

She nodded. “Your mother told me about the child.”

“My mother?” He tensed. “I see. She doesn’t waste time.”

“In cutting you to ribbons? No, she’s rather good at it.” She placed a hand on his arm and felt the ripple of his taut muscle beneath her fingers, as though he were steeling himself against her next words. “We Farthingales have many faults, but raising children isn’t one of them. If you need any help with... goodness, I don’t even know if it’s a boy or a girl.”

“A girl. Felicity.”

Dillie smiled. “What a lovely name. So much nicer than mine. Daffodil. Ugh!” She let out a mock shudder. “If you need any help with Felicity, please ask. I’m not as experienced as my mother or sisters in caring for children, but I’ve stepped in and cared for several of my cousins whenever we’ve lost nannies, something that happens fairly often in the mad Farthingale household.”

“Mad is an understatement.” His lips curled ever so slightly at the corners and his gaze seemed to soften.

She blushed. “I don’t mean to pry, but I’d like to offer my help. We’re friends. It is what friends do... help each other out when asked. Though you haven’t asked me. Perhaps you were afraid to impose, but it isn’t an imposition at all.” She was rambling now and couldn’t seem to stop. “The point is, the child is innocent and shouldn’t be blamed for what you and... er, her mother did. Not that I’m judging you. I don’t even know what really happened. Nor do I expect you to answer to me. You don’t owe me explanations.”

She sighed, and then closed her eyes a moment to gather the thoughts still muddled in her head. “What I’m trying to say, and doing a rather bad job of it, is that I heard Felicity’s mother died. I’m so sorry, Ian. No matter what your mother says, I don’t believe you abandoned her or ripped the child from her arms. You’d never hurt the mother of your child.”