Page 3 of Courting Scandal With The Duke

X avier deftly relieved a footman of the two glasses of ratafia he had promised to fetch for his last dance partner and her duenna. The girl had turned out to be the best of the bunch, so far. Quiet and calm, if a little shy and rather plain as far as looks went.

And not dressed in red.

‘I know who she is,’ Julian said, over Xavier’s shoulder at the refreshment table.

Xavier’s heart skipped a beat. The glasses of ratafia wobbled.

‘Who?’

Julian nudge his arm and Xavier cursed under his breath as he once again barely saved the nasty sticky stuff from spilling.

‘You know who,’ Julian said.

He glanced at his friend. They’d been friends for years.

Since school, where Julian had been small for his age.

As had Xavier. They had stuck up for each other and fought for each other against bigger boys.

Julian was the only person who knew how Xavier had felt when his parents died.

Right now, Xavier considered planting him a facer. Fortunately, he had his hands full.

‘Very well, I know. So?’

People cleared a path as Xavier carried the drinks across the room with Julian on his heels.

Close on his heels.

Julian chuckled. ‘She is the Countess of Lipsweiger and Upsal.’

‘A foreigner. That accounts for it.’

‘No, no. She only married a foreigner. Two of them. Did away with them in pretty short order too. At White’s they have started calling her the black widow.’

She sounded as dangerous as she looked. ‘Never heard of her.’

‘Yes, you have. She’s Ambassador March’s daughter. Barbara. The fellows at White’s are taking bets on who will be her next victim.’

While not foreign, she clearly didn’t give a damn what people thought. Reckless in the extreme.

He handed a glass to the petite blonde Miss Simon and another to her mother. ‘As promised,’ he said with a bow.

Both dipped curtseys and expressed their gratitude before he moved on to watch the dancing.

It would not do to show too much interest in the Simon girl.

Not until he had met all the young ladies on the list. It wouldn’t be fair to get anyone’s hopes up until he had come to a decision.

Lady Cowper had been right though. She seemed like a very good prospect indeed.

Reasonably good family. Reasonably good-looking. Reasonably well-mannered. Reasonable.

Unlike the lady in red.

‘Would you like an introduction?’ Julian asked, his grey eyes twinkling. Clearly teasing.

‘Why not? Obviously, you are not going to be happy until I meet the wench.’ His pulse picked up speed. Damn it. He wanted to meet her.

Julian’s jaw dropped. ‘I was jesting.’

‘I called your bluff.’

‘Er… I don’t actually know her.’

Xavier gave him the look. The one designed to shrivel a lesser mortal to a shivering jelly.

Julian grinned. ‘You win.’

Disappointed, Xavier turned away. Disappointed? How could that be? She was the last person in the room he wanted to meet.

He glanced around the room and found Lady Cowper standing with a group of older ladies near the orchestra.

Neatly dressed in the latest fashion and her hair artfully arranged, as a Patroness, she was a model for what the young unmarried ladies in the room ought to aspire to become.

He caught her eye. She had said she had one more prospect for him.

He might as well meet them all and get it over with. Then he could leave.

She trotted to his side. ‘What did you think of Miss Simon?’

‘As you described.’

Perfectly adequate.

It didn’t matter if she wasn’t perfect as long she had all most important attribute. A nice biddable nature. Why not give up the search and make do?

‘Oh, I am so glad.’ Lady Cowper fluttered her fan. ‘I am so sorry. I thought there was one other young lady I would present to you this evening, but it turns out…’ She coloured. ‘She is not quite what I expected.’

His palms tingled. His heart picked up speed. He knew exactly what she was going to say next. It was like a sixth sense.

‘You mean the Countess?’

Embarrassment shone in Lady Cowper’s gaze, and she grimaced slightly.

‘I had no idea. Lenore Lowell completely misled me about the girl. And to think she made me promise to introduce you. So awkward. Naturally, I shall not. I am sure there will be other, more suitable girls in the weeks to come. It is early in the Season.’

Briefly, he held up a hand. ‘My dear Lady Cowper. Do not cause yourself anxiety. You have been more than helpful, and if it will ease your burden, I will meet the Countess.’

He could not believe he had said those words.

Lady Cowper’s jaw dropped. She stared at him. ‘Meet her? I mean, I should…’ she spluttered into silence. Gathered herself. ‘You are teasing me.’

Despite his inner turmoil he kept his smile calm. ‘Not at all. I should be delighted to be of assistance, if it will save you embarrassment.’ More than delighted. His blood was humming with anticipation.

Damn it all. What he needed to do was give this woman, this countess, a set-down and send her back to whence she came.

‘Very well,’ Lady Cowper said with the air of one about to escort him to the gallows.

He tucked her hand beneath his arm. ‘Take courage, my dear. I am certain she cannot be nearly so bad as she looks.’

Lady Cowper tittered. ‘Do not be so sure.’

Aunt Lenore’s eyes widened.

What now?

Barbara lifted her chin and turned her head slightly to see what could have made her aunt look so surprised.

Aunt Lenore twitched at Barbara’s glove above her elbow. ‘Don’t look, but I think… Lady Cowper.’

One of the patronesses.

‘Oh. Is she coming our way?’

Aunt Lenore had pointed her out as the only Lady Patroness present this evening. And when Barbara had suggested they go introduce themselves, her aunt had flatly refused. Far too dangerous given the red gown.

To risk a cut direct. Unthinkable.

‘I doubt it. Pretend not to see her.’

Having caused her aunt enough grief for one evening, Barbara did as she was bid and smiled into her aunt’s worried face. ‘Do not fear. I shall deal with Papa. He had no business…’

‘Miss Lowell.’

Aunt Lenore looked ready to faint. ‘Lady Cowper.’

Astonished, Barbara turned to meet not the gaze of Lady Cowper, but the arctic blue eyes of the tall disapproving gentleman.

Her heart missed a beat. Her stomach fluttered.

‘And here is the niece you told me all about,’ Lady Cowper was saying.

‘Yes,’ Aunt Lenore said breathlessly. ‘Indeed. May I introduce the Countess of Lipsweiger and Upsal?’

‘Dowager Countess,’ Barbara said with a smile which she made sure encompassed the gentleman at Lady Cowper’s side.

His expression did not so much as flicker.

‘I am pleased to meet you, Lady Cowper,’ Barbara continued. ‘My aunt informs me you are one of the leaders of this venerated institution.’

‘I am one of the patronesses, yes,’ Lady Cowper said stiffly. ‘Miss Lowell, Countess, it is my pleasure to introduce you to His Grace the Duke of Derbridge.’ She didn’t sound pleased in the slightest.

Aunt Lenore’s fingers twitched.

Amazingly, she kept them where they were.

Barbara sank into a curtsey. Aunt Lenore followed suit.

‘Your Grace,’ they said in unison.

‘Miss Lowell,’ the Duke said. ‘I believe we met last year at Lady Crome’s picnic.’

‘How good of you to remember, Duke.’

He turned his gaze on Barbara. ‘You are new to town. How are you finding it so far?’

Barbara gave him a bright smile. ‘ A little chilly.’

Did he take her meaning? Or would he see it as a comment on the weather?

‘Those unused to London’s rarified climate can find it so.’

No dolt then. But arrogant.

‘Yes, the climate on the Continent is far more welcoming.’

‘My niece was recently in Paris,’ Aunt Lenore said brightly. ‘Her father, the Ambassador, is expected back in London any day now.’

‘Ambassador March,’ he said.

‘Indeed,’ Barbara answered.

‘I do not know him personally, though I have heard of him of course. He was of great assistance to Castlereah in Venice, I am given to understand.’

Barbara was a little surprised. Most of her father’s activities remained in the background. Much to his personal disappointment. ‘Your Grace has a finger on the pulse of diplomacy, then?’

‘I am interested in all matters affecting our country. Would you care to dance, Countess? I believe we are to be treated to a waltz. Isn’t that right, Lady Cowper?’

Lady Cowper looked startled.

Aunt Lenore tugged an apparently wayward ringlet at her temple into place.

Barbara narrowed her gaze on the severe expression of the Duke. What was Derbridge playing at? Was this a good thing or a bad thing?

Bad. It had to be for Lady Cowper to look so frazzled.

Excellent .

‘L-let me check with the orchestra.’ Lady Cowper bustled away.

The Duke stared at Barbara. The sort of critical inspection one might give a horse at a fair.

She lifted her chin. ‘Well?’

He blinked. ‘Well, what?’

‘Do I pass muster?’

Aunt Lenore gasped.

The Duke looked bored. ‘It depends on one’s expectations.’

‘Mr Elton believes geranium will become all the rage by next week,’ Barbara said carelessly.

He glanced down at her gown. ‘Then no doubt you will be certain to wear primrose, or gentian.’

This man was frighteningly perspicacious. ‘Shall I take that as your advice?’

The band struck the opening chord of a waltz.

She gave him an arch smile. ‘It seems you are also gifted with foresight.’

His lips twitched.

A smile? Surely not.

More likely irritation.

Or a figment of her imagination. Likely the latter the gentleman did not seem prone to showing any sort of emotion, except disapproval.

Such a lovely tall gentleman, too. A rare find.

She took his offered arm and they strolled towards the dance floor.

Barbara kept her face equally impassive.

Why on earth had he asked her to dance?

Why on earth was she pleased that he had asked her to dance?

It wasn’t hard to imagine the glee with which Aunt Lenore would relay the information to her father.

It had all the makings of a potential disaster. Which she could use to her advantage if she was clever.