But there was nothing wrong in dreaming.
The boys had a hard time convincing their mother that they really had met a duke. At first she declared it a make-believe story, designed to save the wretched Erik, but when Eugenie assured her it really was the truth, she cried that the whole world was conspiring again
st her, and retired to her room. Their father was more pragmatic and was already, Eugenie was sure, considering ways in which he could turn the situation to his financial advantage.
The next morning someone arrived at Belmont Hall as promised.
Eugenie was up early, as always, helping with the household chores and getting the younger boys ready for school. Of course, as soon as they knew the duke’s man was there, they escaped her grasp and ran down the stairs and outside. With a sigh, tucking her unruly curls behind her ears, Eugenie followed. She had reached the back door and stepped out into the chaos that was their yard before she realized that the “someone” come to fetch Erik was the duke himself.
For a moment she was so surprised she could do nothing more than stare. He was speaking to her father, tapping his hat against his thigh, looking perfect in tight breeches and a coat from Bond Street—or somewhere just as posh. Only his hair was a little untidy, tangled from the ride, and his lean cheeks flushed from the exercise.
As if aware of her openmouthed stare, he looked up and met her gaze.
“Ah, Miss Belmont,” he said brusquely, with a bow. “I have come for Sir Billy, as I promised.”
The twins were dancing around him, and Jack was leading Erik from his enclosure, looking proud and miserable at the same time. “You must be on your best behavior,” she heard him say, as Erik rolled his eyes.
“It is very good of you, Your Grace,” she managed, with a curtsey, remembering she was wearing one of her oldest and shabbiest dresses and had yet to brush her curls or wash her face. Good heavens, what a fright she must look!
“Our Eugenie is to be a genuine lady,” her father announced, tugging at his waistcoat where it bulged over his stomach. “She’s currently attending Miss Debenham’s Finishing School. We expect great things of her.”
“I’m sure she will not disappoint you,” the duke said, perfectly straight-faced.
“My grandmother was His Majesty King George the Second’s mistress,” he went on proudly, making Eugenie want to curl up in a ball and disappear into the earth. “Eugenie takes after her, you know.”
The duke’s eyebrows rose, as well they might.
“She was a house maid,” Eugenie muttered.
“A palace maid,” her father corrected her.
“How very interesting,” Somerton said, tipping his head to one side and examining Eugenie carefully. “And you say your daughter resembles this woman?”
“The spitting image, Your Grace.”
“Then I can understand why the king was smitten.”
It was a gallant compliment. His coal dark eyes delved into hers and she felt the shock of his gaze right down to her toes. He looked startled himself, and the flush in his cheeks deepened. She thought she saw a spark of interest. A warm flicker of intention. Something equally warm blossomed inside her, spreading throughout her body.
“Erik is ready now,” Jack was saying, handing over his pet’s lead to Somerton. The duke quickly passed it on to his man, who Eugenie noticed standing behind him, and who petted Erik with the air of one used to animals. They prepared to leave.
“You may visit him whenever you wish,” Somerton said to Jack and the twins. “He may be a little homesick at first, although I am sure he will soon settle in.”
“And I will be sure to call on you about that little matter we discussed,” the baronet said quickly, tapping the side of his nose.
Eugenie wondered what her father was up to and hoped he wasn’t going to embarrass her yet again with one of his schemes.
Somerton made her a bow, a lock of hair tumbling down over his eyes, a serious cast to his lips. “Miss Belmont, I do hope we meet again, after you have been finished at Miss Debenham’s.”
He was teasing her, as the king had no doubt teased her ancestress. She curtseyed again with wobbly knees. “Yes, Your Grace.”
And he was gone, leaving the yard bleak and empty, and the day ahead looking endlessly long.
Sinclair left Erik to his groom, and rode ahead. There were estate matters requiring his attention but for some reason he found himself in no hurry to get home. His lips twisted as he thought about Eugenie Belmont and the revelation that she was the descendant of the second Hanoverian George and a servant.
He couldn’t imagine his own family being proud of such a fact. His mother would probably put a sentence of death upon anyone who revealed such a scandal, and yet here were the Belmonts, shouting it out loud to the world.
Eugenie Belmont was no beauty and yet there was something very appealing about her, a mysterious quality that drew the eye. He laughed out loud as he recalled her frozen in the doorway in her faded pink dress, her abundant curls tumbling down her back, her green eyes as big as saucers. He could easily imagine how her ancestress might have captured the attention of the ageing king.