the kiss she’d given him on his cheek hadn’t been merely in farewell.
And yet she’d become so stiff around him lately, so apologetic, Bacchus had started to question it. Perhaps he wasn’t what she’d expected—he was aware he didn’t fit the mold of a typical English gentleman. But he could make a comfortable life for her. Protect her. Laugh with her.
He just hoped she realized it as well.
He guided Elsie to a sitting room, where the other guests awaited them—the Duke and Duchess of Kent and their daughters, Ida and Josie. The duchess had also invited the duke’s brother, the Earl of Kent, and his family to even out the numbers. Bacchus introduced Elsie to all of them: the earl himself, Lady Lena Scott, Mr. Allen Scott, and Mr. Fred Scott, the latter two being Ida and Josie’s cousins and roughly of an age with Elsie.
Elsie took the introductions quietly and graciously, and then they walked in to dinner, Bacchus taking the seat to the duke’s right, and Elsie sitting beside him.
As kidney soup was served, Bacchus found himself recounting his and Elsie’s false meeting story to the duke’s family. When that conversation grew stale, Elsie asked after Miss Ida’s pursuit of aspecting. Given what the duchess had said about the unlikelihood of such a pursuit, he suspected she’d mentioned it only for lack of anything else to say.
“I think I might give it another year before I decide, which I know isn’t best,” Ida said. “I’m a little old to train already. But, Elsie, I hear you’re a spellbreaker! Do tell me all about it.”
Elsie faltered only once before spinning a half-true story about seeing spells on the duke’s stone walls, and then launched into the details of her lesson with Miss Prescott. When the attention turned to the earl’s latest hunting expedition, Bacchus leaned over to her and said, “At least Miss Prescott provides you with ample dinner conversation.”
She smiled at her plate, twisting the sapphire ring on her finger. The servants brought out a roasted forequarter of lamb beautifully wrapped in pastry. Elsie did a poor job of keeping the surprise from her face, though it was Bacchus’s understanding that she’d helped select the menu.
When the meal was finished, the duke announced, “I think we might enjoy some port and sherry.”
The duchess clicked her tongue. “Not for long; tonight is about Miss Camden as well.”
Miss Josie suddenly choked on her wine, barely getting a napkin up to her face before spewing it over the table.
“Josie!” the duchess exclaimed. “What’s come over you?”
The poor girl mopped herself up. “I’m sorry. It’s nothing, really.”
The duchess’s stare was penetrating.
“It’s just . . .” She looked sheepish and glanced at her cousins. “It’s just . . . well. Mrs. Elsie Kelsey.”
Elsie touched her forehead and sighed.
Bacchus paused as the cousins tittered. “I hadn’t realized.”
Recovering, Elsie pasted on a smile and stood, the men quickly following her lead for etiquette’s sake. “It’s fine. I shall simply go by my middle name.”
Miss Ida asked, “And what’s that?”
She rolled her lips together, and so quietly that Bacchus was sure he was the only one who heard, she answered, “I don’t remember.”
Fortunately, the duchess came around the table and clasped Elsie’s elbow. “I think it’s marvelous. Come now, ladies, let’s leave the gentlemen to a short bout of port, shall we?”
Bacchus let out a breath, grateful for the duchess’s reprieve. However, as Elsie came around the table toward the exit, she froze suddenly behind the duke’s chair, causing the duchess to stagger back a step. Her gaze shot immediately to the back of the duke’s head.
“Whatever is wrong?” the duchess asked.
Elsie cast a somewhat alarmed look at Bacchus, which made him tense. What? he mouthed, but she didn’t respond. Instead, she shook her head and said to the duchess, “Forgive me. New shoes.”
The duchess laughed. “Always a bother, aren’t they?” and they continued on to the sitting room.
Once Elsie left, Bacchus forced himself to sit down, but his thoughts were firmly fixed on her and whatever she’d sensed.
“No worries, lad,” the Earl of Kent said beside him, pouring himself a drink. “She’s not going far.”
Bacchus did not drink, and indeed was relieved, fifteen minutes later, when the duke honored his wife’s request to keep the men’s visit short. “Let’s go entertain them, shall we?” he asked, and started the march for the sitting room.
Bacchus found Elsie immediately upon entering. She stood by the mantel, having a conversation with Lady Lena Scott and one of her