information, hungry for me, and I don’t think I could face it all without you by my side.”
Niall swallowed, his throat going dry. It wasn’t that he didn’t know how to comport himself around the wealthy and titled. He’d had to woo more than a few investors for his plays over the years. He knew how to speak the language and play the game. And with the fame he’d garnered in the last few years, he knew how to hold his own. But if he showed up anywhere by Blake’s side, considering what was happening in Blake’s life, people would talk. And for the likes of them, talk was dangerous, even for a duke and a famous playwright.
At the same time, he knew he couldn’t get out of it.
“All right,” he said with a weary sigh, rubbing his eyes. “We’ll go to Leeds first and send the telegrams, then we’ll clean up and go to this supper.”
The trip into Leeds was simple enough. Blake seemed to have worn himself out with talking the evening before and said surprisingly little as they ran their errands. He drove Niall to distraction by asking that they take a side trip to a few mundane businesses so that he could purchase shoe polish, hair tonic, and other sundries that his valet could have or should have fetched. Niall wondered if the errands were an excuse to spend more time with him, but that seemed ridiculous, considering they were staying under the same roof. When they returned to the house, Blake took him on a tour of the estate, pointing out all of the improvements his father had made. At no point did he mention any work he specifically had done. The tour only confirmed to Niall that Blake wasn’t truly invested in his birthright.
After the tour, they parted ways in order to clean up and dress for supper. Niall dreaded the event more and more as the minutes ticked by. His dread proved well-founded almost immediately as soon as they set foot in Lady Inglewood’s parlor. The esteemed noblewoman had invited two dozen people or more, many of them young ladies with their mothers. Every eye in the room shot straight to Blake as soon as they entered. Worse still, Blake smiled at everyone and greeted his hostess and her friends as though they were chums.
“I cannot tell you how delighted I am that you invited me this evening, Lady Inglewood,” he said, bowing over the hostess’s hand like a cavalier. “Allow me to introduce you to a dear old friend from university, Mr. Niall Cristofori.” He turned to Niall, all smiles and dead eyes.
“Niall Cristofori?” Lady Inglewood’s expression lit with recognition. “The playwright?”
“At your service, my lady.” Niall took the woman’s hand and bent over it. If Blake could play the role of jovial party guest, he could as well. Though he would never play it half as well as Blake did.
“I saw your Persephone in the West End four years ago,” Lady Inglewood went on. “I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed myself so much at the theater.”
“Thank you, my lady.”
“Lord Selby, why didn’t you tell me you were friends with the Niall Cristofori?” Lady Inglewood scolded Blake lightly.
“You never asked,” Blake joked. There was something brittle and false about the joke, and Niall cringed inwardly.
“Let me introduce you to my guests, sir.” Lady Inglewood took Niall by the arm and pulled him into the room. “You have to help me,” she whispered as soon as she’d pulled Niall far enough away from Blake. “We are all deeply disappointed by the way that horrid American has absconded with Lord Selby’s children and heir. Of course, a divorce must be forthcoming, but we’re all trying to temper the blow by finding a far more suitable duchess for your friend.”
Niall bristled with rage at the bald admission, but kept his smile in place. “Are you certain that isn’t a bit premature?” he asked.
“Not at all,” Lady Inglewood dismissed the idea as they neared the far end of the room. “I’m sure you must see that your friend is desperate for love and affection. In fact, we’ve all thought so for years. It is no secret that the duchess has been stingy with her affections and that it was in no way a love match. But Lord Selby is so lovable, don’t you think?” She turned to glance across the room to where they’d left Blake, forcing Niall to do the same.
Acid churned in Niall’s gut