Chapter 11
Max stared at his father for a full minute before he found his voice.
“I … beg your pardon, sir?”
“I can’t have you ruining the daughter of a good friend of mine. Is that not plain enough for you?” The duke sighed. “It is not the match I had planned, but it will do. You will go to your lodgings, pack your bags, and report back to me here at lunchtime.”
“For what purpose?” Max asked, feeling like a fool.
“We’re going to Musgrove Hall, where you will ask that poor woman to marry you.” His father held his gaze. “It is the only honorable thing to do.”
“But what if the lady doesn’t wish to marry me?”
The duke rose to his feet. “Hopefully, she isn’t as big a fool as you are and will grasp this opportunity to restore her reputation with both hands. I’ll expect you back here in two hours.”
His father swept out, leaving Max feeling like he was living in a nightmare of his own making. There was no time to warn Allegra about what was coming. He had to go with his father and do his best to ameliorate the effects of the duke’s ill-judged plan.
When he arrived back at the Albany, Claude met him at the door, his finger to his lips.
“You have a visitor, my lord.”
“Fine. You need to pack me enough clothes for a stay in the country,” Max said.
“For how long?”
“I don’t know—three days? How long could it take?” Max asked himself more than Claude, who looked horrified. “And I’m leaving in less than two hours, so you’d better get cracking.”
Max went into his parlor and found Sebastian Roberts awaiting him somewhat nervously.
“Devereux, I heard you were looking for me.”
“Yes, I was. I hear you’ve been spreading unsavory rumors about a lady,” Max said. “I must admit, I knew you were a terrible gossip, but I didn’t think you were the kind of man to deliberately ruin a lady’s reputation.”
Roberts went rather red. “It wasn’t intentional. The only person I told was Landon. I thought that, as he is your best friend, he would enjoy the joke. I didn’t expect him to shout out the news to all of society.”
“He is obviously no friend of mine,” Max said. “In truth, one might say that he is the whole reason I ended up in Suffolk.”
“I just wanted you to know my side of the story, Devereux,” Roberts said, somewhat uncomfortably.
“And you have done so,” Max agreed. “And perhaps, in future, you might learn to control your gossiping ways.”
He opened the door and watched as a very subdued Roberts walked past him. To be fair, the man looked genuinely remorseful, but Max still wanted to wring his neck. He went through to his bedchamber, where Claude was muttering and throwing clothes onto the bed.
“It doesn’t have to be too formal,” Max commented, as he changed into attire more suitable for a trip to the countryside. “The Musgroves aren’t high sticklers.”
“The Musgroves?” Claude clutched one of Max’s waistcoats to his chest.
“Apparently, my father is a great friend of the current earl,” Max said. “And we have been invited to stay.”
“But—” Claude pressed his lips together. He’d obviously heard more of the gossip than Max had anticipated. “Am I to accompany you, my lord?”
“Not this time.” Max regarded the steadily growing pile on the bed. “I suspect I’ll only be gone for a day or two.”
Allegra pushed tendrils of wet hair away from her face as she walked toward the house.
She’d taken the dogs for a long walk, and the weather had turned just as she reached the farthest point of her route.
She’d had to slog back through the rain, her skirts were caked with mud, and she probably looked like she’d been dragged through a hedge backward, as her nurse used to say.
She left the dogs in the kitchen and made her way through the entrance hall to the drawing room, where her mother and sister usually sat before going to dress for dinner.
“Sorry, I’m so wet!” Allegra said as she went in. “It started to—”
There were several people in the room she had not been expecting to see. Her father stood next to a tall man with the cold face of a statue, and beside her mother was …
She took a step back. “Please excuse me. I didn’t realize you were entertaining guests. I will go and make myself more presentable.”
The duke—at least, she assumed that’s who he was—was staring at her as if she’d been dredged up from the bottom of a bog. And Max—how on earth had he ended up in her house?—was looking equally distant and unnaturally still.
“This is my daughter, Allegra,” her father said, as if she hadn’t spoken. “May I present to you the Duke of Barfleur and his son, the Marquess of Blanchard.”
Allegra curtsied, painfully aware of the heaviness of her muddy skirts and that she wasn’t looking her best. “A pleasure, your grace, my lord. Please accept my apologies for my disheveled state. I was out walking my dogs and got caught in the rain.”
Allegra had no idea why she kept talking. She looked helplessly at her mother for a clue about how to proceed, but ended up shifting her gaze to Max, who wouldn’t even acknowledge her.
Thankfully, her mother came toward her with a smile. “Why don’t we go upstairs, and I’ll help you change for dinner, my dear? That will give the duke ample time to speak to your father.”
Allegra nodded and allowed her mother to link arms with her and lead her out of the drawing room. She waited until they were safely inside her bedchamber before she dared to speak.
“What is going on?”
Her mother regarded her with some amusement. “Apparently, your father and the duke have kept up a regular correspondence for years and consider themselves good friends.”
“What on earth could they have to correspond about?” Allegra asked as she attempted to take off her dress. “How could that even happen?”
“I believe it has something to do with obscure chamber music,” her mother said as she rang the bell for Allegra’s maid. When she arrived, she asked her to bring up hot water for a bath.
“This is a disaster,” Allegra muttered.
“I don’t know much else, because they only just arrived—completely unexpectedly,” her mother continued. “Why are you so jittery?”
“I don’t like unexpected guests.” Allegra sat down at her dressing table and attempted to take down her hair. If first impressions counted, she had made the worst one possible.
Her mother picked up the brush and started on the tangles, occasionally unearthing another pin, which she set on the dressing table.
“I know you, Allegra. Why would the Duke of Barfleur suddenly decide to bring his eldest son to meet a friend he hasn’t seen in years? There is far more to this than I yet understand. Would you care to enlighten me?”
“Not particularly.”
There was a knock on the door, and a procession of servants brought in the hot water and filled the bath set in front of the fire.
“Thank you,” her mother said. “Wear something nice for dinner, won’t you? It isn’t often that we have guests, let alone a duke and his heir.” She dropped a kiss on the top of Allegra’s head and headed for the door. “Just remember that whatever has happened, we will support you as a family.”
Allegra said nothing, because she hated to lie to her mother, and she didn’t understand what was going on.
How likely was it that the duke and Max had turned up just to see her father?
Not very. Had the duke seen the gossip in the newspapers and extracted a confession from Max?
And what exactly might Max have confessed to? Knowing her? Seeing her at the inn?
Her mind was rioting with awful possibilities as she stepped into her bath, and none of them were good.
Dressed in her best evening gown, and with her hair curled into an elaborate mass of braids and curls, Allegra made her way down to the drawing room, her nerves jangling and her chest tight.
To her relief, the only people in the room were Dorian, who was reading, and Postumus, who came toward her with a smile.
“You look very grand tonight, my lady. But perhaps it is because we are entertaining a duke?”
“That might have something to do with it.” Allegra allowed him to take her hand and kiss it. “One has to keep up appearances.”
Someone cleared his throat behind her, and Allegra half-turned to see Max exquisitely turned out in black-and-white evening wear.
She’d only ever seen him in one set of increasingly bedraggled clothes, and the effect on her senses was quite startling.
She pulled her fingers free of Postumus’s grip.
As the only Musgrove present who was paying attention, she would have to act as the hostess.
“Good evening, my lord,” Allegra said to Max. “May I introduce you to my brother, Dorian, and Mr. Cooper, who is also a guest in our house.”
Dorian came forward to shake hands, and Postumus bowed.
“A pleasure, my lord,” Postumus said. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”
“Unless you are frequently in London, I suspect not,” Max said.
Allegra couldn’t help but notice how tightlipped Max was being and how unlike himself.
She could only assume that her worst fears were correct and that the duke had somehow found out about Max’s relationship with her.
Had he come to Musgrove Hall to berate his old friend for raising such a wayward daughter?
From what little Max had told her of his father, it could be a possibility.
It also might explain why there was no sign of the duke or her parents.
She had no doubt that her parents would stand up for her. Perhaps the duke was ordering his carriage and refusing to even stay the night. …
Someone spoke, and she looked round to see Postumus smiling at her.
“Sorry, I was woolgathering,” Allegra apologized.
“I was simply asking if you had a good walk with your dogs,” Postumus said. He smiled at Max. “Lady Allegra enjoys outdoor pursuits tremendously.”
“Does she,” Max said.
“I got caught in the rain,” Allegra said. “I looked a complete fright when I burst into the drawing room only to discover that my parents had guests.”
“I’m sure you looked delightfully refreshed,” Postumus said. “And a credit to healthy living.”