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I hadn’t noticed.”
    She noticed what every other female in the room was wearing, Kasey couldn’t help observing, since Phillida kept up a running commentary on Miss Dalrymple’s dampened skirts, Lady Henderson’s crooked hairpiece, and Countess Cavanaugh’s daring décolletage. She herself was stunning in a sky blue gown that matched her eyes, with a lace overskirt and embroidered flowers at the flounced hem. Even now, though, those sky blue eyes were darting around the room, making sure everyone saw her on the arm of a duke.
    Kasey did not want to ask outright if the earl’s daughter thought he was attics to let, so he hedged. “No, I mean different from other men.”
    “La, Caswell, you are not supposed to be like other men. You are a duke.”
    Fluff and feathers, indeed, Kasey thought, recalling the painted lady’s words. Lady Phillida was a Diamond of the First Water, and they made a handsome couple with nearly matching blond hair, but could he face a lifetime of this inconsequential chatter? Perhaps he truly was insane to be considering making the chit his bride, for the sake of his succession.
    Her mother was smiling at them from the sidelines, planning the wedding, no doubt, and her father was bouncing between the card room and the dance floor, making himself available in case Kasey wished to ask him a particular question. The only question His Grace wished to ask anyone this evening was if he was losing his mind, if he had the wild-eyed gaze of a bedlamite, or the pallor of someone who had seen a ghost. The Earl of Granleigh would not care if he sprouted horns, Kasey knew, as long as he did not lose his fortune.
    “Whatever possessed Miss Rostover to put on such a pale yellow gown?” Lady Phillida was saying, before a sharp glance from her mother recalled her to the matter at hand, namely an offer for her hand. “Should you care for a stroll on the balcony, Your Grace?”
    Kasey knew he’d be more than crazy to accept such an offer; he’d be betrothed before midnight. “No, my dear. I fear the chill night air might prove detrimental to my health.”
    Phillida frowned. “I think you are different from my usual beaus, Caswell, now that you mention it.”
    “Yes?”
    “You’re older.” Fine. Now he was demented and decrepit.
     

Chapter Five
     
    Almost anything a man might wish to know could be found in Lord Leydon’s library. Some of it was even between the pages of the leather-bound volumes. The rest reposed in the gentlemen strewn about the room in comfortable armchairs, reading today’s newspapers, napping behind yesterday’s newspapers, or conducting affairs of state and commerce that would fill tomorrow’s newspapers. They were, one and all, avoiding the crowds, the dancing, and their wives.
    Kasey nodded to several silver-haired gentlemen, contemporaries of his late father, if not his grandfather, seeking the likeliest source for the information he sought. His eyes finally alighted on Baron Stallworth, who was not only awake, but awake on all suits. Better yet, the baron used to be a bosom bow of the poor King, and Jason’s godfather, to boot. No one would question a conversation between them, and Stallworth would not repeat it. Kasey stopped to take a glass of fine cognac from the waiting servant, knowing that the Leydons did not stint when it came to entertaining. Of course, the duke decided, after an appreciative swallow, if they had a great galloping girl like Georgina to fire off, they had to do it first-rate.
    “Ah, Lord Stallworth, good evening, sir.” He bowed, before taking a seat at the older gentleman’s nod.
    “No. I ain’t paying Junior’s gaming debts, if that’s what you came about, Caswell. Told the coxcomb that myself, I did.”
    “Lud, I should hope you put a flea in the gudgeon’s ear about battening on acquaintances.”
    “And playing beyond his means, asides. Of course I would have lent the scamp a quid if I had it. Low tide with me, too, though. Should