"I see Marius is dancing," he said conversationally, "and with Suzanne Broughton, too." He managed to make it sound as if there were something almost significant about the fact that the duke was dancing with that particular lady.
Perhaps it was fortunate that Henry was not closer to the dancing pair. They were waltzing, and were thus enabled to carry on a sustained conversation.
"You have become quite the stranger, Marius," Suzanne was saying archly.
He raised his eyebrows and looked down his nose at her. "Ah, but I cannot believe that you have been lonely, Suzanne," he commented.
"I do not languish after any man," she replied haughtily "but I did believe we had a friendship, Marius."
His eyes narrowed. "We both know what kind of a friendship we had, my dear girl," he said.
"Yes, and it was good, was it not?" she said, smiling at him suggestively.
"Yes, it was good," he agreed.
"It could be so again, Marius," she continued. "I do not believe that little green girl can satisfy your appetites for much longer."
He gazed at her with his half-closed eyes, but said nothing.
Suzanne became uncomfortable. She laughed. "You are not going to tell me, Marius, that she is able to give you all you need between the bed sheets," she goaded.
He continued his silent scrutiny until her gaze shifted to the couples dancing around them. "You are quite right, of course, dear girl," he said, and she shot him a triumphant glance, "I am not going to tell you."
"One of these days, Marius," she said, a smile on her lips, fury in her low voice, "you are going to want my favors and come begging for them. And I shall laugh in your face."
"That will be very pleasant for you, Suzanne," he agreed meekly.
**********************************************************************************
A few days later, Eversleigh arrived home to discover that his household was sadly changed from the peaceful, orderly days of his bachelorhood. It lacked little more than an hour until dinner; certainly it was well after the usual visiting time. Yet there was noise enough coming from the drawing room to suggest fifty callers. And over it all was the noise of Brutus barking as he stood outside the closed door of the upstairs room, demanding entrance.
Eversleigh, handing his hat and gloves to an impassive-faced footman, glanced up the stairs and looked back inquiringly at his butler.,
"I believe her Grace is, er, discussing family matters with her brother, your Grace," that poker-faced individual explained.
Eversleigh nodded, as if the explanation were quite sufficient to account for the commotion. He squared his shoulders and proceeded unhurriedly up the stairs.
"Lie down, Brutus, and take a rest," he ordered languidly. The dog immediately responded by stretching out across the doorway, laying his head on his paws, gazing adoringly up at the duke, and thumping his tail on the carpeted floor.
"You do lack some common sense, don't you, old boy?" the duke continued conversationally. "How am I supposed to enter the room without taking a flying leap over your back? That would not provide a dignified entrance for one of my rank, you know."
Brutus panted with ecstasy at being so noticed by his idol.
When Eversleigh finally opened the door and entered the drawing room, quizzing glass in hand, the commotion instantly ceased. His glass swung over an irate-looking Sir
Mary. Balogh
Peter Tallant, an uncomfortable James Ridley, a weeping Miss Manford, a bright-eyed and defiant set of twins, and a flushed, indignant Henry.
The scene progressed like a well-rehearsed comedy show. The players were frozen for a few seconds as they all turned to view the newcomer. Then all burst to life at the same moment when they saw who it was.
Sir Peter looked smug. "Ah, Eversleigh," he said, "you have returned in good time to help me convince these children of what is proper behavior in London."
"We weren't doing anything wrong," Penelope shrieked.
"We had only gone forward to get a better view," Philip cried.
"Marius, you won't let him split them up and send Phil away, will you?" Henry implored, hurling herself across the room and clinging to her husband's arm.
Miss Manford sniffed rather loudly against her handkerchief.
"Really, your Grace, I must take the blame for the whole episode," Ridley said earnestly and gallantly.
Eversleigh covered his wife's hand with his own as it rested on his arm and fixed a languid glance on his secretary. "That is extraordinarily noble of you, James," he said. "But might I ask for what you are assuming the blame?"
"Your Grace…"
"Marius…"
Sniff.
"But we didn't…"
The duke held up a silencing hand. "I believe only one person in this room answers to the name of James," he pointed out with calm common sense.
"Your Grace," Ridley began, "Miss Manford had agreed to take Miss Penelope and Master Philip to the balloon ascent on Richmond Hill this afternoon. I agreed to accompany them, as this is one of my days off."
"Quite so," Eversleigh agreed, idly fondling Henry's fingers beneath his hand.
"We took the gig, your Grace. But there was such a large crowd of people there that we could not hope to get close. Miss Manford urged her charges to stay close to the gig and not to wander away. We tried to persuade them that when the balloon became inflated and airborne, we would have a splendid view of it."
"But we couldn't see a thing!" Penelope shrieked. "Just bonnets and parasols and carriages and things."
"I believe you," her brother-in-law said unsympathetically. "James?"
"They wandered away, your Grace, and soon we lost them completely. Miss Manford and I searched the area until the last carriage had left and finally returned here in the desperate hope that they would have found their way home.".
Miss Manford sniffed again.
"We weren't even lost," Philip chimed in indignantly. "Peter…"
"Thank you, dear boy," the duke said. "Perhaps someone would tell me how you did get home. Tallant?"
"I was watching with my wife and her sister, Eversleigh," Sir Peter began, glad of the renewed chance to air his grievance, "when what did I see but my own brother and sister, quite unchaperoned, making spectacles of themselves."
Eversleigh's brows rose in alarm. "I feel for you!" he said.
"Yes, indeed," Sir Peter continued, "they had actually climbed under the cordon and were interfering with the balloon workers."
"We were only asking Penelope began, but she was quelled by a glance from her older brother.
"I had to face the indignity, Eversleigh, of crawling under the rope myself and, in full view of half the ton, gathering these two together and escorting them away. I brought them home immediately."
"But, Marius, he did not give a thought to poor Manny and Mr. Ridley," Henry complained, staring wide-eyed into her husband's face.
Eversleigh squeezed her hand, but continued to look politely at his brother-in-law.
"I had given Miss Manford notice before she came here, Eversleigh," Sir Peter stated, aggrieved. "Now perhaps you will see for yourself that she is totally incapable of controlling the twins and quite incompetent as a governess."
"Perhaps I shall," Eversleigh agreed soothingly.
"It is time Philip was sent away to Eton," Sir Peter continued. "I shall begin to make arrangements immediately. Penelope must have a stricter governess, one who will train her to be a lady. You have only to look at Henrietta to see how incapable Miss Manford is of accomplishing that goal. I shall look to it, Eversleigh."