Page 36 of The Duke
“You would, too,” Florence said in disgust. “God save the poor woman who marries you.”
An awkward silence settled between Celine and Lord Burnley. It had obviously not occurred to Florence that anyone might have designs on becoming Lord Burnley’s wife, least of all her new friend, but Celine and he were only too aware of what they were about this evening.
“You two know each other, I think?” Celine said, passing lightly over the awkwardness.
“Lady Pecke is my godmother,” Florence said. “Ipso facto, Henry has been lecturing me since I was a baby. He is only six years older—an insignificant number of which he takes grievous advantage—but even at six I believe he would have had the vocabulary and general demeanour of an elderly vicar.”
Far from being offended, Lord Burnley smiled at this, flashing his dimples. Celine’s good opinion of him grew. Florence pulled her funny face again.
The duke’s cousin, Mr. Howard, appeared then in eye-catching black and white, and offered Lady Pecke a glass of ratafia with a courtly bow. She looked a little flustered, accepting it.
“You forgot to get your own mother a drink, you dolt,” he said, moving into their small circle and knocking his shoulder against Lord Burnley’s in a friendly manner.
Lord Burnley coloured a little and glanced at his mother, who was deep in conversation with another middle-aged woman. “Did she want some?”
Mr. Howard darted a conspiratorial look at Celine. “You didn’t hear her ask? Why, was your attention devoted elsewhere?”
Celine bit back her smile.
The resemblance to the duke was less stark in Mr. Howard than it had been in Royce, but he bore the unmistakeable mark of being a Howard. The height, the honed cheeks, the intensity of his gaze. A quality that drew the eye.
“Wait,” Florence said, put out. “Why are you doing that with your eyebrows? Are you suggesting Henry thinks Celine is a rock?”
Mr. Howard blinked, then stared at her.
“Well?” she demanded impatiently. “Does he want to throw her over the back fence or not?”
“Lady Florence,” Mr. Howard ventured, “are you feeling quite well?”
“Yes, very well,” she said with a brisk frown. “Why do you ask?”
“I…” The duke’s cousin seemed at a loss for words, prompting a softening from Florence.
“Areyouquite well, Mr. Howard?” she asked solicitously.
Celine could no longer hold back her laughter, and a moment later, Lord Burnley’s rumbling voice joined hers.
Lady Pecke saved Mr. Howard by interceding then, returning the conversation to a saner course. She introduced Celine to their hostess, Mrs. Johnson, and a number of other acquaintances aswell, as the evening drew on. The room grew warmer, and the faces and conversations began to butt into one another, some impressions more lasting than others.
Throughout, Lord Burnley, Mr. Howard, and Florence remained by her side, bickering with one another and making funny and considerate observations to her. She barely knew them, really. And yet she felt a fragile, ghostly sense of belonging. Steadied by them, as though she stood not on two feet but on eight. She was beginning to find her place here in this foreign land, and in a foreign class.
When it came time to go through for supper, Mr. Howard and Lord Burnley both turned to her, but it was Lord Burnley who said warmly, “Miss Genet, would you be so good as to take my arm?”
She looked up into his kind, uneven eyes.
“I would be delighted,” she said, meaning it with all her heart.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Before taking his seat at the table, Lord Burnley spoke quietly to a servant, who repositioned the screen so the fire’s warmth wasn’t quite so oppressive.
Lord, he was kind.
“Your father is very interested in politics,” Celine said once he was seated beside her. “Are you also?”
“You have my father exactly,” Lord Burnley said with a little laugh. He nodded discreetly towards the lower end of the table. “You see he has monopolised the duke’s attention all evening, I am certain regarding his latest bill. I daresay we won’t hear a sensible word from either of them for the rest of supper.”
Celine looked out of politeness only, but her gaze caught and lingered.
