The Secret Pearl(40)

“We all feared that you would not return in time for the festivities,” his neighbor said, extending his right hand. “It would not have been the same without you here, Adam.”

“Have I ever missed one of my own balls?” the duke asked. “How are you, Duncan? Is Miss Chamberlain here? I have not seen her.”

“Oh, yes,” the other said. “And has danced every set.”

“I thought perhaps you had left her at home with your children,” the duke said. “Are they all well?”

“If tearing a nursery to ribbons and wearing a poor nurse to a shadow and murdering our ears every living moment of the day with whoops and shrieks is a sign that they are well,” Mr. Chamberlain said, “then I would have to say they are in the best of health, Adam.”

The duke grinned. “I remember last year,” he said, “that when your other sister took them for a month, you were like the proverbial fish out of water.”

His neighbor smiled sheepishly. “Yes, well,” he said, “I suppose our ancestors rather missed the Vikings, too, when their raids finally ceased. Where did you find your governess?”

The duke had a flashing image of Fleur standing quietly in the shadows outside the Drury Lane Theater.

“In London,” he said. “Houghton hired her. He is worth his weight in gold. I am pleased with her. I think she is good for Pamela.”

“I know it,” Mr. Chamberlain said. “She brought your daughter visiting when her grace was indisposed, and did not even blanch when I told her the dogs were probably jumping all over the children. Of course, at that moment she had not yet seen the dogs to know that they resemble young horses more than they do their peers.”

“She took Pamela?” the duke said. “I am glad.”

“And so am I.” Mr. Chamberlain grinned. “You can send her anytime, Adam. You don’t even have to send Lady Pamela along to chaperone unless you insist.”

“Ah,” the duke said. “It is like that, is it?”

“Emily says I need a new wife,” his neighbor said. “I am not at all sure she is right, and I am certainly not sure I could find any woman saintly enough or insane enough to take on my trio and me into the bargain. But I am considering the idea. It is an interesting one.”

“I would not take kindly to losing a good governess,” his grace said.

“Ah, but for friendship’s sake you would make the sacrifice,” his friend said. “Excuse me. The orchestra sounds as if it means business, and I have asked her to dance again.”

“For the third time, Duncan?” The duke raised his eyebrows.

“Counting, are you?” his neighbor asked. “This is no London ball, Adam. I think Miss Hamilton’s reputation will survive three dances with one partner. And this is to be a waltz.”

The duke stayed where he was and helped himself to some food. No lady was noticeably without a partner. He would take a rest.

Fleur Hamilton and Duncan Chamberlain. Duncan was handsome enough—slim still, his dark hair graying only at the temples. They made a good-looking pair. He wondered how she felt about her partner. But she had accepted a third dance with him. And she was smiling up at him with that sparkle that looked so much more genuine than Sybil’s.

How would she receive a marriage proposal from Duncan? he wondered. Would she tell him the whole truth? Or find some other way to explain her loss of virginity?

The duke turned away. He regretted more than he could say the fact that he had not questioned her on that night before doing business with her. He should have realized from her appearance and from the quiet way she had solicited—or not solicited—a customer that she was no experienced whore. He certainly should have guessed the truth from the way she had stood in that room, not moving until he had told her what to do, and then removing her clothes quietly and neatly with no attempt to make his temperature rise as she did so.

He might have saved her before her character and future were in shreds.

But he did not stay turned away. He found himself watching them as they danced—no, watching her—and marveling that she could possibly be the same woman as the thin, lusterless whore whose services he had solicited and used only a little more than a month before.

God, he thought. If only he had realized. If only he had not been so thick-skulled. It was no wonder that she shrank from the mere sight of him and shuddered uncontrollably at his touch.

God! He turned away again, in search of a drink.


FLEUR WAS ENJOYING HERSELF IMMENSELY. There was something unutterably romantic about the outdoors at night, colored lanterns swaying in the trees and reflecting off dark water, beautifully dressed people talking and laughing gaily, music setting toes to tapping and hips to swaying.