The Taming of the Duke (Misfits of the Ton) by Emily Royal

Author:Emily Royal [Royal, Emily]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, romance, Historical
Publisher: Dragonblade Publishing, Inc.
Published: 2023-12-15T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seven

Where the devil is she?

Dax glanced across the breakfast table, his gaze wandering from guest to guest. This morning, Lady Hardwick had waved him over and invited him to sit beside her. Lord Hardwick sat at the opposite end. Halfway along the table, Lord Parville sat next to his younger daughter, Miss Blanche, but there was no sign of Catherine. Parville’s skin had a greenish tone, and dark rings circled his eyes.

Good. It served the old bastard right after his behavior last night.

Guests continued to enter the breakfast room, crossing the floor to the buffet table and helping themselves. Footmen wandered about, offering tea to the guests. The air filled with the low murmur of chatter, punctuated by the clink of silverware and china as the guests spooned sugar into their cups, sliced into bacon, and sipped their tea.

Horton sauntered in, helped himself to a plate of breakfast, then approached the empty space beside Blanche Parville.

“Is this seat taken, Miss Blanche?”

“Join us, do,” Lord Parville said before his daughter could reply.

Horton met Dax’s gaze. Then he winked and sat beside his quarry.

“Are you enjoying your breakfast, Miss Blanche?” he asked.

“Very much so,” came the reply.

Dax found himself smiling at the besotted expression on Horton’s face. He seemed genuinely fond of her. Blanche Parville was a genteel creature, softly spoken, and cordial.

The exact opposite of her sister.

Horton lowered his voice and murmured something unintelligible—some profession of admiration perhaps.

Miss Blanche shook her head. “My sister was a little indisposed this morning. I believe she’s taking the air outside.”

Lady Hardwick leaned forward, her brow furrowed in concern. “Was Miss Catherine not hungry—or thirsty?”

Blanche looked up. “I believe not, ma’am.”

“Oh dear,” Lady Hardwick said. “It does a young woman no good to venture out on an empty stomach.”

Lord Hardwick spoke up. “I’m sure she’s perfectly well,” he said.

Dear Lord—I hope so.

Lady Hardwick’s gaze snapped round, and she stared at Dax.

“So do I, Your Grace,” she whispered.

Before Dax could respond, Lord Hardwick leaned forward. “Are you still wanting the curricle, Petrush?” he asked. “Or would you prefer to join the men for the shooting?”

“I’ll pass on bagging birds,” Dax said. “I’d promised to take the elder Miss Parville on an excursion—that is, if Lord Parville agrees.”

Parville’s eyes lit up, and he nodded, almost dislodging his wig in delight at the prospect of ridding himself of his daughter. From his position beside Blanche, Horton grinned and mouthed a silent “thank you.”

“Perhaps, Miss Blanche, you might join me on a walk around the estate?” Horton suggested. “The sunken garden is, I hear, most exquisite, and has many Italian features which our host brought back from his travels, is that not right, Lord Hardwick?”

“That’s correct,” their host said.

“My daughter would be delighted,” Parville said, “wouldn’t you, Blanche?”

Blanche blushed and lowered her gaze. Her sweet shyness was what most men would call endearing, though Dax preferred the prickly, fiery demeanor of another…

“Then that’s settled,” Hardwick said. He drew out his pocket watch. “Heavens! We’ll bag nothing if we spend the morning idling here.

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