Free Sea of Secrets: A Novel of Victorian Romantic Suspense by Amanda DeWees Page B

distant relation bespoke an openheartedness I had not expected to find.
    Lord Claude’s voice broke in on my thoughts, although he was not speaking to me. “Have you any idea whether Herron will be joining us tonight?”
    Charles shook his head. “I saw him earlier and told him that the ladies would be arriving today, but I couldn’t say whether he will put in an appearance.”
    “Does His Grace have other plans?” I asked, and the two glanced at me, then each other, as if silently consulting about how much they should say.
    “Not as such,” said Charles—cautiously, I thought. “But he has been keeping to himself a great deal of late, and he does not always take his meals with the rest of the family.”
    “But I should hope that he’ll behave himself this evening and put in an appearance, for his new cousin’s sake if nothing else,” put in his father, in what seemed weariness more than anger. “Ah, well, we shall see. Perhaps the boy will remember his manners.”
    But he did not sound optimistic, and I wondered for the first time if the duke and his new stepfather were on friendly terms. the sudden change in their relationship might have met with some resistance on one side—or both. I wondered if Lord Claude was being unjustly critical of the duke. My curiosity about this cousin was growing every moment, and I longed to see if he was anything like the idea I had formed of him in my mind. The accuracy of my predictions had certainly been poor thus far.
    But I was disappointed in my hope of assessing him in person, since the duke failed to appear that evening. The duchess and Felicity eventually joined us, resplendent after their long toilet, but by the time the dinner gong went we were still only six, with Miss Yates. The duchess and her husband exchanged a long look, and I saw her lips press together as if to keep in her disappointment. But in a moment she gave a laugh, her face restored to its usual gaiety, and slipped her hand through her husband’s arm.
    “Well, there’s nothing for it but to start without him. If he has any sense at all he will join us; Cook has outdone herself in your honor, my dear, and Herron will be the loser if he misses this meal. Charles, will you take your cousin in?”
    Charles offered me his arm, and with Felicity and Miss Yates following after, we processed in to dinner.
    “By the way,” he said in an undertone as we crossed the great hall, a vast vaulted space with an echoing marble floor, “it might be best if you can learn to call Herron by his name. He hates being addressed by his title; in his mind, his father is still the duke.” I said I would bear that in mind, and he added in a resigned tone, “Of course, if he persists in being so coy, you may never have occasion to speak to him at all.”
    This was discouraging, but as soon as we entered the dining room I was so distracted by the grandeur of my surroundings that I almost forgot my disappointment at the duke’s absence. Although when they were not entertaining guests the family usually took dinner in the breakfast room, Charles told me, tonight they were using the banquet hall in my honor. The six of us were a ridiculously tiny group at the end of the long, gleaming table that would have seated thirty. Our voices echoes in the vast arched chamber, and despite the chandeliers, the light did not entirely dissipate the shadows. I felt awed, as if I were dining in a particularly opulent monastery. I wondered how long ago Ellsmere had been built: this room felt centuries old, as if the air was layered with the echoes of many lives.
    The duchess evidently still held out hope that her son would join us, and when we had dawdled over the soup as long as was possible, she beckoned the butler over for a brief consultation. It ended in her sigh.
    “Well, bring in the fish, Jenkins,” she said in resignation. “I suppose my son is off wandering the cliffs again. We’ll not see him tonight; there’s no sense in