Page 23 of Once Upon a Devilish Duke

“See how the man did scurry,” the duke said. “I am afraid your brother is all bluff.”

“He does put on a show, but he is also a slimy cad, and I would not put it past him to be plotting something underhanded. I wish he could be more like the brother I had when we were young. We used to do nearly everything together.”

The rest of the night was uneventful. Marianne danced with a few gentlemen she already knew, and Rose was introduced to many people who knew her father and who welcomed her into the fold. She danced with those whom either the duke or Marianne approved of, and she felt safe in their decisions.

Rose did not see her brother for the rest of the night.

Chapter Six

Rose, Edward decided, was an enigma. It made her far more interesting but also made him wary of her impulsiveness. She did seem to try to insult him at every turn. What was she digging for? Did she want to make him angry on purpose?

One ball down, and already he was hoping someone might catch a cold, so he did not have to participate again so soon. All that standing about was a waste of his time, other than when he was dancing with Rose or Marianne.

Tomorrow he must see the Regent and go to the House of Lords and see if there was any substance to this “mole” issue. Yet more time he would have to make up when he returned home. He was tired, and it was almost dawn. He moved to the window and looked out. The moon was low over the rooftops. Its beams of gray light lit the usually dark scene. On instinct, he grabbed some paper and his charcoal and sketched out the scene. By the time it was done, the sun had turned the hue into a soft pink.

He blew out his candle and left his study for his bed. Just a few hours until he had to wake again to meet with the Prince Regent. On his way to his room, he stopped outside Rose’s bedroom and slid the picture underneath. The instant he did it, he saw the folly of his action, but he could not quite get to it when he slid his hand underneath the gap at the bottom of the door.

He could open the door and retrieve it, but if she woke? No, he could not chance it. Better she wondered about the artist and why he had placed it under her door. If she questioned him, he was sure an excuse would come to him.

He fell onto his bed, still fully clothed as if he had been up drinking all night, instead of drawing. Sometime in the early hours, his valet must have taken off his shoes and covered him with a blanket. A good valet was worth his weight in gold, and Jameson had been with him for years. He knew when to wake him and when to leave him be.

So, when Edward cracked an eye open, he also did not feel surprised to see Jameson ready to shave him and a steaming cup of coffee beside his bed.

“How much time do I have?” he asked his valet.

“An hour, Your Grace,” he said, looking at his pocket watch. “I was just about to wake you.”

Edward groaned and rolled onto his back. He opened his eyes slowly to reveal the canopy of his bed. Good God, he may as well have finished a bottle of whiskey, as he felt just as crapulent. When Jameson brought the coffee over to him, he took two sips of the bitter brew before making his way over to the chair. His valet placed a warm cloth over his lower face. Edward’s eyes closed again. He trusted Jameson to shave him without supervision, and it would give him a few more moments of sleep. He heard the scrape of the blade against his cheek and then nothing.

He was gently shaken awake, and after two more sips of coffee, he disrobed, giving himself a quick wash before he was helped into his more formal attire.

“If you are late, you can blame the London traffic,” Jameson suggested.

“I will not be late. I’m going to walk to the palace.”

“In your shoes, my lord? You will not be fit to be seen by the time you get there.”

“Hmm, you are probably right. I should ride.”

“Then we must change your breeches, sir.”

“Fine, I will go in the phaeton.”

“Excellent choice, Your Grace,” Jameson said with a smile.

“Tell me, have you heard anything about Lady Rose’s lady’s maid?”

“Miss Elsie? She appears to be a bright young lady, from all accounts. Has made no untoward comments or caused any trouble. Lady Marianne’s maid May seems to be quite friendly with her.”

“Good, good.”

“Shall I pull the cord for a footman, Your Grace?”

Edward nodded and finished his coffee. “Have the phaeton made ready. I’m going to my study to collect my papers and will be right down.” He then headed down the hall just in time to see Rose emerge from her room, picture in hand. Damn! He felt his face heat in embarrassment and discomfort.

“Good morning, Your Grace.”

“Good morning, Lady Rose.”