Chapter Six

“Y ou told him what?” exclaimed Violet.

“Vi, really!” Lucy grabbed her best friend’s arm and pulled her further down the hall, so they weren’t standing right outside the ladies’ retiring room. They slowly walked back toward the ballroom. “It was the first name that came to mind. You have been talking about how handsome Gregory Murdoch is nonstop.”

“Well, he is. And whenever he comes to the house to meet with my father, he always has a charming smile and a smoldering look to send my way.” Violet sighed. “A terrible flirt, that one. Don’t worry, I just like looking at him.” They crossed the marble tiles of the hall, their heeled slippers echoing in the two-story foyer. “I can’t believe the duke is back in town.”

“Yes, and he is changed. Brooding is an understatement. I just didn’t want him to think that I have spent the past year pining for him.”

Vi sent her a sympathetic look from under her sooty lashes. “I understand. He doesn’t need to know that you have been longing for his affections. What will you say when Mr. Murdoch never comes to propose though?”

“Bah, Hart won’t be around that long. And he doesn’t socialize with solicitors.”

They entered back into the din of the ballroom. The ball was the typical crush. A string quartet played in one corner, and the painted floor was packed with dancers. Potted trees softened the edges of the room and framed conversation areas. The back doors were open to let the night air in, but instead of cooling off the interior of the ballroom, it simply allowed couples to sneak out into the gardens. Lucy had learned her lesson. She would stay safely inside and with her friend.

Violet opened a fan painted with bright pink flowers. “I’m sure your right. Oh look, there is Addie.”

“I wasn’t sure if we would see her at all this month. Her mother must be feeling better.” Lucy waved as their good friend, Adeline, walked by with her parents and older brother.

Adeline whispered in her mother’s ear, and her mother glanced their way. With a pat on Addie’s arm, she released her into the crowd. Adeline hurried over.

Lucy gave her a swift hug. “Addie, we are so happy to see you out.”

“Mother is having a good week. I’m so excited to be out of the house. Tell me everything that is happening!” Addie pushed her spectacles up her nose.

Violet leaned in to kiss Adeline’s cheek. “Lucy has an imaginary fiancé.”

Adeline’s eyes widened. “What?!”

“That’s what I said,” Violet leaned toward Adeline. “And the duke is back in town.”

“Really?” Adeline turned to Lucy. “Have you seen him?”

Lucy huffed and opened her own fan to help block her comments from being overheard. “Yes, I have. I needed his help with discouraging Lord Fitzwilliam. I’m sure the innuendo that was printed in the Piccadilly Press was planted by him.”

Both her friends nodded in tandem.

“Not that Hart would have come to see Lady Weatherby or me if I hadn’t gone to see him first.” She was still hurt by his indifference.

Her best friends knew better than anyone how infatuated with Hart she had been. Hart had always been so charming, always easy to talk with. When she was young, Hart and his brother Robert had seemed larger than life. Both had been kind to the lonely orphan their father had taken in, but Hart had stolen her heart with his irresistible grin. But now she was an adult, and Hart was changed. She needed to put aside her old infatuations. She briefly closed her eyes. Why oh, why had she told him she had a secret fiancée?

“And how is he? Has he recovered from his accident?” Violet asked.

Lucy grimaced. She knew her friend meant well, but the ballroom was no place to discuss Hart’s injuries. “Well enough,” she answered vaguely.

Addie looked back and forth between Lucy and Violet. “But what does this have to do with the faux fiancé?”

Lucy felt her cheeks heat. “Well, Hart… the duke, I mean, was asking about whether I was planning on settling down. He had this terrible look of pity on his face like he didn’t think I ever would. And I don’t know, I just said it. I told him that I had a beau who was a solicitor but that he didn’t have enough money saved for us to marry so we weren’t telling anyone our intentions yet.” She shrugged. “When he demanded to know who, the first name that popped into my head was the solicitor that Violet is always mooning over, Mr. Gregory Murdoch,” she whispered.

Adeline covered her mouth with a gloved hand and giggled. “Mr. Murdoch is handsome. He works for my father as well.”

Lucy’s stomach flip-flopped. She placed a hand to her belly. “You don’t suppose his firm works for Hartwick?”

“Highly unlikely.” Violet shook her head. “The duke’s holdings are vast. He probably has a firm that works exclusively for him.”

Lucy relaxed. Vi was right. There was no way that Hart would ever meet Mr. Murdoch.

*

Hart offered Mr. Langford the list of men that Trudy had given him with one addition, Gregory Murdoch. “I need to know the finances, vices, and rumors about these men.”

Mr. Langford folded the paper and slid it into his pocket. “Yes, Your Grace.”

“Did you bring the ledgers I asked for?”

“Yes, Your Grace.” His man of business reached down for his briefcase. “Is there a particular question I can answer for you?” He pulled out three ledgers and placed them on Hart’s desk.

“No, I don’t even know exactly what I am looking for. I will know it when I see it.”

“Very well, sir.” Langford pulled at one end of his long, wiry mustache.

“That will be all, Langford.” Hart scowled as the squirrely little man hurried to the door.

Langford’s nervous energy put him on edge. This was exactly why he had spent the last year cocooned at Belstoke. Having to endure people’s reactions to his scarred face was demoralizing.

Hart turned to the ledgers sitting on the desk. He should sit and start looking through them, but he was far too restless. He crossed to the window and flipped back the curtain. The gas lamps on the front gate illuminated the street in front of his Mayfair mansion. Not a soul stirred in the square. His neighbors, no doubt, were already out for the evening. It seemed like another lifetime when he would have been dressing in his evening clothes and heading out for a night of revelry with his friends.

What were Danvers, Comstock, and Quincy up to tonight? Had any of them succumbed to the parson’s noose in the last year? Probably not. The only one of them that had any decency had been their friend Grisham. Hart knew that Lucius was happily tucked away in Marbury with his new wife. He was glad Grisham had got out of London and the lure of its many vices. Lucius deserved to be happy. The lads were probably at Brook’s having dinner and wine before deciding which proper social function to grace with their presence. Had Danvers got his sister married off?

A carriage drove by, interrupting his thoughts. Perhaps he should just bite the bullet, get dressed, choose one of the many invitations he had received, and get out of the house. Everyone wanted to get a good look at him and, fuck it, he might as well get it over with.

Hart strode to his desk and picked up the stack of invitations left by his secretary. Flipping through them made his stomach feel sick. There were several dinner invitations and two invitations to balls, a handful of notes to meet for drinks, and one charity function. He chose an invitation at random and threw the pile down. Exiting his study, he headed for the stairs.

Townson hurried over to his side.

“Tell Thomas to get my carriage ready. I’m going out.”