Page 2 of Duke of Emeralds (Dukes of Decadence #2)
A gentle nudge brought her back to reality, and she started, her hand flying to her chest.
“Are you all right?” Leonard asked, his brows furrowing.
“Oh, there you are, Leonard,” she forced herself to say. “I was looking for you.”
Her brother’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Are you quite well, Hester? You seem rather flustered.”
Hester took a deep breath, willing her racing heart to calm. “I am perfectly fine, Leonard. Thank you for your concern.”
She twisted her gloved fingers, taking a breath.
“I was only wondering if you could introduce me to the Marquess of Townstead,” she requested.
“Since he is your acquaintance, I feel it is only natural we get acquainted as well. As your sister, you see.” The words came out in a rushed tumble, and she immediately regretted sounding silly.
Leonard’s expression softened, and he offered her his arm. “Of course, Hester. There is no problem in that.”
As they began to make their way through the crowd, Hester couldn’t help but overhear the whispers that followed them.
“Do you think the Duke lives in Scotland and is only here briefly?” a lady whispered.
“Oh, I must introduce my Samantha to him before he returns,” a matron replied, her desperation palpable. Hester felt her cheeks burn anew as she recalled her humiliating encounter.
“Ah, Lushton seems to have caused quite a stir tonight,” Leonard observed.
“You know the Duke?” Hester asked, her voice tighter than intended.
“Not personally, no,” Leonard replied. “But I do know that he inherited the Lushton duchy about a year ago. He was a very distant cousin of the late duke. Word is he is the last in the bloodline.”
“Interesting,” Hester murmured, fixing her gaze straight ahead.
They finally reached the Marquess of Townstead, who was engaged in conversation with another gentleman. Leonard greeted them both warmly, and after a brief exchange, he introduced Hester to the Marquess.
“Lord Townstead, may I present my sister, Lady Hester Jensen,” Leonard said.
The Marquess turned to her, his eyes appraising her with cool detachment. “It is a pleasure,” he said without warmth.
Hester’s curtsy felt stiff and unnatural. “The pleasure is mine, My Lord.”
When silence stretched, she blurted, “It is quite a lovely evening, is it not?” She nearly winced when her voice came out higher than she would have liked.
“Aren’t all evenings at events like this the same?” he replied, examining his cuff. “I see nothing special that sets tonight apart.”
Hester flinched at his tone, her palms growing damp inside her gloves.
Undeterred, she tried again, her words tumbling out too quickly. “The ballroom is particularly beautiful tonight. The decorations are quite exquisite.”
Townstead gave a cursory glance. “I suppose it is adequate.”
As the first strains of a waltz filled the air, Hester grasped at the opportunity. “Lord Townstead, the music is quite enchanting. Would it not be a delightful idea to dance?” She immediately regretted phrasing it as a question, her cheeks flaming.
Townstead’s eyebrows rose, and he let out a derisive snort. “Are you asking me to dance, Lady Hester?” Before she could clarify, he continued, “If you cannot manage to walk without colliding with strangers, I shudder to imagine your dancing. I value my feet too dearly, madam.”
Hester’s breath left her as if struck. Hot tears pricked her eyes while mortification crawled up her neck. How could he be so cruel? My clumsiness was accidental, not habitual.
Her gaze darted to Leonard, relieved to find him still engrossed elsewhere. She wouldn’t have him witness this humiliation.
“I—I should find the ladies’ retiring room,” she choked out. With a jerky curtsy, she fled the Marquess’ presence, her heart hammering against her ribs.
As hurt as she was, she felt a surge of anger coursing through her veins. Every ounce of this anger was directed at herself for her inability to defend herself, for placing her hopes in the wrong gentleman, and for being so na?ve as to believe he could be cordial.
Hester mindlessly headed for the tall glass doors that led out onto the terrace, and she did not stop until she found herself in a deserted part of the gardens, the cool night air doing little to soothe her heated emotions.
Why did I ever think that Lord Townstead would be a suitable match for me? I should have known better.
She needed to vent, to release the frustration that had built up inside her. “You stupid, stupid girl!” she muttered to herself. “You thought Lord Townstead could rescue you from spinsterhood? What dream you must have had!”
She kicked a nearby cluster of hedges, and her shawl tangled in the thorns. As she tried to extricate her shawl from the plants, she heard the fabric rip. The tears of frustration she had been trying to keep at bay finally came spilling forth unbidden, streaming down her cheeks.
“Why am I such a fool?”
She sank to the ground, her hands covering her face as she tried to breathe and hold back the tears. She had never felt so alone and so misunderstood in her life.
“Pray tell, who has brought such a lovely lady to tears?” came a voice from behind, startling her.
She turned her head, and lo! There stood the Duke of Lushton, tall and imposing.