“We must go,” Eugenie said again into the uncomfortable silence, with an urgent glance at her brother. “Thank you again for your invitation, Your Grace. We are most grateful for your kindness.”
“Yes, thank you,” Terry murmured, as he ambled in her wake.
Sinclair watched them go, their heads close, as if in serious conversation. It wasn’t until Annabelle tucked her hand into his elbow that he realized she’d been speaking and he was miles away. Determinedly putting Eugenie Belmont out of his thoughts, he concentrated on his sister.
“You cannot have enjoyed being with Terrence Belmont,” he said. “He’s not up to your mark.”
Annabelle smiled at him fondly. “Sinclair, you are such a snob. And the thing is you don’t even know it.”
Jack was back in the stables after a visit to Erik, but content to be loaded once more into the old coach. The twins were tired from a game of hide-and-seek with a stable lad and leaned against each
other, sleepy-eyed. Terry waffled on about Lady Annabelle and how unaffected she was for a duke’s sister.
“Do you think she’ll come to the village ball?” he mused. “A guinea says she will.”
“You owe me a guinea.”
“Then we’ll be even. If I could find a wife like Lady Annabelle I’d be made for life.”
“Once she sees where the ball is held, in the rooms above The Acorn, she may not be quite so unaffected,” Eugenie said dryly. “It is hardly what she is used to, Terry. I’d be very surprised if her brother lets her go. That poor girl . . . Miss Gamboni. Obviously Lady Annabelle gave her the slip.”
“All the gossip about him is right, isn’t it? He’s an arrogant stuffed shirt. Did you hear how he spoke to me when I dared to touch his old sword?”
Eugenie wasn’t listening. Her thoughts were drifting. Would Sinclair be at the village ball? And if he was, would he dance with her? The rooms above The Acorn were crowded and stuffy and couples were known to slip away for a cuddle and a kiss. Would Sinclair ever do anything so daring, something so far beneath his usual rigid code of behavior? If she could persuade him to do something so unlike himself then her chances of marrying him would surely rise a notch or two?
She wondered what it would be like to kiss Sinclair.
Her lips tingled, as she recalled the manner in which he’d looked at her when they were standing on the terrace, the way he’d moved closer, almost as if he was about to take her in his arms. The way he’d spoken her name.
Terry might think him stuffy and arrogant, but Eugenie saw something else in Sinclair’s dark eyes. His Grace, the Duke of Somerton was lonely and quite possibly shy, hemmed about with his duties and responsibilities and his grand house. She smiled, remembering his boyhood wish to be a tinker with a golden earring. She was beginning to understand him. Whereas Eugenie wanted respectability her duke needed to do something completely undukelike and a little wild.
And Eugenie was the girl to help him do it.
Chapter 5
Jack was full of talk about the duke’s stables and all that he’d seen there. Sir Peter didn’t appear to be taking any more interest than normal, but Eugenie noticed he hung about after supper rather than retiring to his newspaper. She could almost see the cogs in his brain turning, formulating some plan whereby he would sell his services to the duke for a small fee. “I taught Jack everything he knows about horseflesh,” he would boast, and then offer to share his expertise. Eugenie cringed at the thought, and hoped her father would think better of it. Unfortunately, knowing him as she did, she was more inclined to fear the worse.
As she’d grown up, her family had become more of an embarrassment to her. When she was young she was like Jack, naïve, believing there was nothing wrong in what her father did. But the years had changed that, and as Eugenie grew into a woman who found such behavior unacceptable, she felt the gap between herself and her family widen. She was like a changeling and sometimes she thought it would be a wonderful thing to walk away from these people who were so unlike her. Why, she asked herself, couldn’t she have been born into a different family altogether—a respectable family with morals and ethics? A family she could be proud of instead of wanting to hide them behind closed doors?
But of course she couldn’t walk away. Jack needed her, and the twins were not completely beyond redemption. She had a duty to them, to help them as best she could, although some days the burden was great indeed and she could not help but wonder if there would ever be a time for her. When would she be able to live her own life?
Eugenie tried not to give a sigh as she made her way upstairs to her small bedchamber. At least it was hers alone, she being the only girl in the family, and she treasured the small private space. With the door closed she could shut out the trials and tribulations awaiting her and lose herself in her books and her dreams.
She went to her wardrobe and stood staring at her few dresses. There wasn’t much to choose from, but there was the ball on Saturday and she wanted to look her best. Her Sunday gown was too drab and serious, and she had grown out of many of the girlish dresses she’d worn before she went to Miss Debenham’s. The truth was she needed something new, but that was unlikely to happen when the boys desperately required new shoes.
As she examined each garment, Eugenie imagined what Sinclair would think, and her dissatisfaction grew. How could she attract such a handsome, eligible man when he must be used to the most beautiful women in the most gorgeous outfits? Eventually she shut the door with a bang and flung herself back onto her bed, staring at the ceiling, and indulging in her favorite pastime of make-believe.
The make-believe world was always so much more satisfactory than real life. She could make the story end as she wished, and lately it always ended the same way. With herself happily married to the Duke of Somerton.
But today she couldn’t seem to place the story threads to her satisfaction, and restlessly she turned over, her cheek on her hand, and gazed at the window. Downstairs she could hear the twins arguing and her mother’s desperate and useless threats, and then her father’s roar of displeasure, which worked better. It was no use. In a moment there would be a tap on her door, the long-suffering servant requesting she come and help.
Eugenie rose and left her daydreams behind.
Sinclair found his sister in a surprisingly good mood following the Belmonts’ visit. He had his suspicions this was something to do with Terry Belmont, and the coming ball he’d let himself be persuaded into attending, but as Annabelle would be leaving for London soon he didn’t concern himself too much. And he had had words with Miss Gamboni and instructed her sternly on the need to be vigilant when it came to his sister.
If there were tears when it came time for Annabelle to go, he would deal with them as he always dealt with her tantrums. By reminding her she had a position to maintain and a birthright to uphold.
He found himself thinking of Eugenie Belmont instead. Don’t you ever feel as if you’d like to do something dangerous? He hadn’t, not until that moment, or if sometimes he felt restless then he’d simply refused to allow such rebellious thoughts to form in his mind. He’d been born and bred to the title and everything had been sacrificed to it—that was just the way it was. He couldn’t say he’d really felt dissatisfaction with his lot, not for years. Why should he? People were jealous of him, not the other way around.