“Berwick,” the duke said. “The world has gone mad.”
“How are you, sir?” The earl’s voice was crisp. “You look hale and hearty, I must say. But Grandmama has been upset and needs to have her mind put at rest. Allow me, for her sake, to summon Dr. Gregg, and after he has found nothing whatsoever wrong with you, you will have all the satisfaction of saying I told you so.”
“Damned quack,” the duke grumbled again, but Chloe could tell he was about to give in.
“Bentley,” the earl said, “kindly have Weller send someone to fetch the doctor. And when you have done that, bring a glass of brandy. You may be feeling perfectly healthy, sir, but why waste the excuse to enjoy some hard liquor during the daytime?”
The duke’s valet was already brushing past Chloe in the doorway. He was on an unnecessary errand, however. The butler had signaled to the footman, who was already darting out through the front doors to fetch the doctor.
“He is so stubborn,” Her Grace complained to Chloe. “He always was. I do not know how I have put up with him all these years.”
“It was on account of my handsome face,” the duke said, coughing and covering his heart with one hand.
“Ha!” And then the duchess looked at her grandson and frowned. “Ralph? Whatever are you doing here? Never tell me you have good news already? Or, rather, do tell me you have. Have you?”
He was standing before the duke’s chair, frowning down at him. But he turned at her words and looked first at her and then at Chloe.
“I do,” he said, “if by good news you mean the announcement of my engagement, Grandmama. I am betrothed, very newly betrothed. Miss Muirhead has just done me the honor of accepting my hand in marriage.”
Chloe clasped her hands tightly in front of her.
“I trust you will wish us happy,” he added.
* * *
Ralph had told Miss Muirhead that his choice of bride was his alone, that what his relatives thought of that choice would be their concern, not his. Even so, he had felt some anxiety over how his grandparents would react when the moment came. For though Her Grace had taken in the granddaughter of the dearest friend of her youth out of the kindness of her heart, she could not necessarily be expected to look favorably upon a marriage between that lady and her only grandson. Indeed, it had seemed very probable that she would be as horrified as Miss Muirhead had predicted she would be. He was not going to regret his choice even if that proved to be the case. But he would regret disappointing his grandparents.
Now he had something else to think about other than their simple reaction to his betrothal. For his grandfather certainly looked unwell. There was a suggestion of grayness about his mouth and the creases on either side of his nose. And his grandmother was agitated and deeply concerned about him. For one moment Ralph had thought of answering her question a different way and putting off the announcement until later. But he had made the split-second decision to answer with the truth.
An immediate reaction proved impossible, for Bentley was hurrying back into the study, a glass of brandy in one hand, while Weller hovered just outside the door, his usual impassive demeanor replaced by very obvious anxiety.
Bentley tried to hold the glass to the duke’s lips, got bellowed and rumbled at for his pains, and relinquished it into the hands of his employer, who took two generous sips before lowering it.
“You will shut the door behind you on the way out, Bentley,” he said. “Your Friday face and Weller’s are enough to make me feel ill.”
The rest of them had been standing in a silent tableau and continued to do so until the door clicked shut.
The duchess was the first to speak.
“Chloe?” she said, sounding more puzzled than outraged. “You are going to marry Chloe, Ralph?”
Chloe. The funny thing was that it was the first time he remembered hearing her given name. She was still standing just inside the door, her hands clasped at her waist, looking like someone’s governess.
“I am,” he said. “My interest was aroused when I was here a few days ago. I returned today to make her an offer, having realized in the meanwhile that I had already met the lady I wished to marry and did not need or desire to look in the ballrooms of London.”
The duke had taken another sip of brandy and was already looking more himself.
“You are considering marriage, then, are you, Berwick?” he said. “At the age of what? Twenty-five?”
“Twenty-six,” Ralph said. “And yes, sir. With Father gone and no brothers, I have considered marrying the responsible thing to do.”
“Helped along by a little encouragement from your mother and your grandmother, no doubt,” the duke said. “I suppose that is why you came here a few days ago and stayed only long enough to blink. You were read a lecture on my extreme old age and sent on your way to do your duty, were you?”
“It so happens, sir,” Ralph said, “that my duty has also become my pleasure.”
His grandfather harrumphed.
“Chloe,” his grandmother said again, a note of wonder in her voice. “My dearest Clementine’s granddaughter and my grandson. Why on earth did I not think of it for myself? Oh that Clemmie had lived to see this day with me.”
Ralph raised his eyebrows. Miss Muirhead turned her head sharply in his grandmother’s direction.
“Chloe, my dear,” the duchess said, spreading her arms wide. “Come and give me a hug.”