The thought of a ride was thrilling, for it was a pleasure Aunt Agnes often denied me, unless it served some social scheme of hers. “Oh yes, please,” I said.
“Very good.” I found myself warming to Lady Ellen more and more. I could only hope Hugh might endeavor to deserve her.
Our soup was cleared away, and the footmen set out the next course.
“Juliet is not the only one who enjoys riding,” Hugh chimed in, fishing for an invitation. I’d never seen him so taken with a woman before, though perhaps he was only smitten with her dowry. Aunt Agnes rarely missed an opportunity to remind him he needed to marry money.
Lady Ellen gave him a winsome smile. “You were not unamusing on our walk this morning, Lord Everdale, so I suppose you may join us for tomorrow’s ride.” One thing was certain: Hugh had met his match. “And you as well, Lord Aberdeen.”
“Gladly,” Lord Aberdeen said. He glanced down at my plate. “Miss Graham, is there anything at all that you require? Shall I signal to one of the footmen?”
“No, thank you, Lord Aberdeen.” I settled into my seat, beginning to relax. Though it seemed impossible, perhaps my flouting of all decorum this afternoon would be overlooked.
Just as I picked up my fork to take a bite, the dowager duchess made eye contact with me from near the head of the table. The duke had inherited many of his features from his grandmother. They shared the same bearing, the same symmetrical face.
“Miss Graham,” she said, loud enough for everyone to hear. The rest of the table quieted. “I have not seen much of you since you arrived.” With her formal high-collared gown and her silvery white hair pulled back in a stately manner, the dowager duchess was as intimidating as the queen. Or at least, as intimidating as I imagined the queen to be.
“Oh?” I replied in a small voice. “Well, the castle is rather large.” Before she could ask another question, I took a quick bite of the veal.
She gave me a tight smile, glancing around the table. “Trust me, as with any house, when one shares it with family, it is not as large as one might think.”
I bit back a smile, amused by the dowager’s frankness.
She touched the brooch that rested at her throat. “I was acquainted with your grandmother, you know. And I knew your mother a little—met her at her come-out—though our association came to an end when she ran off with your father. I’ve always thought marriages of inequality make for rather awkward social situations. On both sides.” Her tone was blunt but not cruel. She tilted her head, a pert look on her face. “I take it your red hair comes from him.”
I slid a discreet glance toward Aunt Agnes. She would be furious the subject of my father had been broached. My tongue seemed to expand, filling my entire mouth, while my mind shrank, devoid of any response, witty or dull. I nodded and tried to swallow, but the bite of food caught in my throat.
“I believe she may also have a fair amount of musical talent that can be credited to her father,” the duke said.
I very nearly choked.
The dowager lifted a skeptical brow. “And how is it that you would know?”
He set his wine glass down, his face impassive. “Intuition.”
No doubt my face was as red as my hair. I kept my eyes on my plate, on the food that had hardly been touched.
Aunt Agnes spoke up, a trace of apology in her voice. “I am afraid if she has any musical talent at all, it comes from her mother, God rest her soul.”
The dowager turned to me once again, giving little consideration to the fact that I’d only had a bite or two of my dinner. “And how long have your parents been gone, Miss Graham?”
I pretended to chew, though my mouth was empty. Aunt Agnes eyed me from her place near the duchess. I feigned swallowing. “My father died nine years ago. And my mother has been gone five years, Your Grace.”
“Well, I was sorry to hear of her passing, despite her misguidance. It is always tragic when young children are left behind.”
Aunt Agnes cleared her throat. “Yes, but I have raised Juliet as my own.”
Though I longed to disagree, I supposed, in many ways, she was no harder on me than she was on her own sons. Except for the strength of her grip on my inheritance. Hugh and Robert at least did not suffer that.
Clenching the napkin in my lap, I could feel the force of the duke’s gaze upon me. I did my best to ignore him, answering the way I knew Aunt Agnes expected. “I have been very fortunate. My aunt has taken me and my brother in with the utmost charity.”
“You have a brother?” The dowager swirled her wine.
“Yes, Your Grace. Much younger than I. Harry is but eleven years of age. He is at Harrow now.” I clasped my hands together, wishing to be left alone so I might eat in peace.
“Ah, dessert at last,” the dowager said as the footmen came forward to remove our plates.
I grimaced in frustration, looking down at my uneaten dinner. Hugh leaned in. “You made the mistake of capturing the dowager’s attention.” He held out his hand and motioned it forward, low and smooth. “You must stay beneath notice. See? Look at my plate.”
“I imagine it’s an easier task when your hair isn’t red,” I grumbled as my dishes were taken away.
An hour later we were seated in the drawing room, where I had been pulled into a card game with Robert, Hugh, and Lady Ellen. I had difficulty focusing as we played. Perhaps I could blame the duke, who had taken a seat by the door and whose gaze I was having a more and more difficult
