Page 58

“You don’t have to say it French!”

“I think I do,” Daphne mused.

“And with green.” Eurydice grimaced.

“Chartreuse,” Daphne corrected, for she saw definite possibilities in her near future.

“The blue is a horrifying addition.”

“Azure,” Daphne said, then smiled at the duke. He took a closer look. She was glad to be wearing a new dress in the shade of pink that flattered her coloring so well.

“He’s wearing more rouge thanGrandmaman,” Eurydice whispered wickedly, but Daphne ignored her. Her sister surveyed her and her eyes widened in horror. “You wouldn’t.”

“He’s a duke,” Daphne said mildly, then met her sister’s gaze. “Me first.”

Eurydice laughed. “You needn’t fear any competition from me in pursuit of that silly fop. Look at him! He’s a joke from head to toe!”

Daphne smiled. There were no other unwed aristocrats in the vicinity, nor were there likely to be any. She had no competition at all and might very well save her grandmother the expense of a season in London.

For a duke.

Daphne couldn’t have cared less how he dressed. His finery was expensive, which meant her grandmother was right about his finances.

He did have fine legs and he was tall.

This was her chance. She crossed the yard with her chin high and her skirts gathered in one hand. Her steps were quick and delicate, as if she joined a dance, and in a way, she did. A thrill of anticipation coursed through her as she wondered just how well—and how quickly—she could charm him. Oh, there was no deceit in Daphne. She meant to make whatever duke she won a most delightful and attentive wife.

The duke lifted his glass a little higher to watch her approach.

Daphne wasn’t so innocent that she didn’t notice the glimmer of interest in his very blue eyes as she curtseyed before him.

* * *

What a beauty!

Alexander savored the sight of Lady North Barrow’s granddaughter as she came tripping toward him, her lifted skirt hem granting him a glance of her neat ankles, and her cheeks a little flushed. Her hair was like spun gold and her eyes shone with what appeared to be good nature. Her dark green cloak parted as she walked, giving him a glimpse of her figure. She was slim through the waist and hips but curved sufficiently to invite a man’s caress. That deep green of her cloak made her eyes appear to be a deeper hue than they were. The pink of her dress became her very well and she put him in mind of apple blossoms in the spring. Though she was fair, her lashes and brows were dark, and her lips were both sweetly full and ruddy.

Alexander was certain that he hadn’t seen such a splendid beauty in years.

When she smiled at him, he was reminded of exactly how long he had been celibate.

And he completely forgot why.

Indeed, he found himself recalling Anthea’s challenge and almost fingered the small seed in his pocket.

Lady North Barrows made curt introductions, as was her way. He hadn’t seen her since Anthea’s season, but she hadn’t changed much. Miss Goodenham’s lashes fluttered as she curtseyed before him. He caught a glimpse of creamy cleavage, then she met his gaze and blushed prettily.

Alexander’s heart gave a leap, though he fussed over her hand, bending to kiss it with flair. He caught a whiff of her scent then, roses mingled with the perfume of her own skin, and that sent an unwelcome stab of desire through him.

There was a second girl, Miss Eurydice, who was younger, stockier, slightly darker in coloring and who eyed him with suspicion. Lady North Barrows then ushered her granddaughters into the tavern ahead of her, as if they were wayward chicks. Alexander watched them go, telling himself he should be pleased that the dowager viscountess was not intent upon flinging her eligible granddaughters at him, like every other ambitious mama in theton, but in truth he was disappointed to have enjoyed their company for so short an interval.

Even though it was undoubtedly for the best.

To his surprise, Miss Goodenham turned to glance back at him, her remarkable eyes filled with appeal. “ButGrandmaman,” she whispered, loudly enough for him to overhear. “Surely we cannot let His Grace eat luncheon alone. It would be unforgivable.”

Lady North Barrows paused in the midst of giving instruction for their meal to her maid, which she wished to have served in a private room. She eyed him, her misgivings more than clear. “We would not wish to intrude on His Grace’s meal,” she said, her tone chiding, and Miss Goodenham appeared to be so disappointed that Alexander almost spoke out.

Instead, he took out his snuffbox and fussed over a pinch, ensuring that he looked a perfect fool. The working men regarded him with disdain, but that was part of the plan. His disguise kept anyone from looking closer.