Very Truly Yours, Simone

10. the duke

The Duke of Dafield was used to getting all the attention, but not in a venue like this. He would rather be somewhere else, but he had a few good reason he was in the Hutchinson Ball.

He had seen far more lavish balls, but this one would do. He was here for a Stratford. Specifically, the heir to the earldom, Harry Stratford. He smiled at the greetings he passed by, murmured a good evening, and soldiered on. A man on a mission. The first of three he would have to do.

For the first order of business, he went straight to the hosts. Lady Hutchinson prattled; Lord Hutchinson mumbled. It was easy, paying respect when you're a duke. It was not expected, and a short one was enough should one opt to do so. Because the host would want to leave and brag about their immense influence at having a duke in their home. It took him one question: "Is that the Earl of Abberton?" and Lady Hutchinson promptly jumped on her feet and ushered him to the old man laughing with two gentlemen. And while she filled him with information of her friends, the Stratfords, his eyes roamed the vicinity, looking for Harry Stratford, the heir. It was easy to spot the man, because he was currently talking with a young woman with red hair not far away from his grandfather.

As they neared, his gaze jumped back to the earl and the younger Stratfords laughing with him. One of them turned and grinned.

"Ah, you bloody bastard," Webster exclaimed, much to Lady Hutchinson's surprise. "How have you been?" Webster Priest said, shaking his hand with only the familiarity of men who shared years in Butler ever would.

Without answering his friend, he offered the Earl of Abberton a slight bow and greeted Damon Stratford. And before he knew it, the old man caught his arm and said, "Are you here for a wife? Certainly not one of them Hutchinsons, boy."

"What did he say?" Lady Hutchinson asked, to which Web answered, "Nothing, my lady. I think your daughters are currently surrounded. Might want to save them." With that, the host left them, muttering about her daughters dancing with a duke.

"I'm telling you, the Hutchinsons are the worst choice," Abraham Stratford continued, ignoring his grandsons. "You're better off marrying into the Stratfords. I have a name in mind."

"Good Lord," Damon groaned. "Don't listen to him."

Daniel Cavendish only laughed. "As a matter of fact," he said, bending down. "I have a plan quite similar to what you just proposed, my lord," he said to the earl.

Web and Damon looked at him in surprise. "You do?" Web asked, almost with a scowl.

He smiled at his friend. "That's why I'm here."

"Good, good. My grandchildren have rich dowries," the earl said, steering him away from his grandsons.

With a small smile, Daniel stopped him. "I believe you misunderstood, my lord."

"What do you mean then?"

He smiled and gestured his hand to the side. Looking at Damon and Web, he said, "We should find a library. And perhaps we should invite Harry."

***

"Sisi," Lydia nudged. "Sisi."

"Lydia, I see!" she hissed.

"See what?" Price asked.

But they were not hearing him. A force was propelling both women away from the refreshment table and toward the path the duke was taking. Lydia gripped Simone's arm tighter. "Sisi."

"Lydia, I know!" she hissed. "Now, stop calling my name."

"But he's—Sisi, he's—"

"That's the actor," Gale's voice said beside Simone. "What in bloody tarnation—Do you know?"