Page 4 of Enchanting the Duke
As she answered, he hung on her every word, imagining those lips wrapped around his erection.He shook himself mentally.What had gotten into him?This was Miss Westfall, for heaven’s sake—the same girl who’d tripped over her own feet at Abingdon’s wedding.She was the younger sister, he knew, so probably not older than three-and-twenty, but she had a naivete about her that made her seem younger.
As their eyes met across the table, he felt a spark of attraction.Her cheeks flushed a becoming pink as if she felt it too, and she quickly looked away.He blinked, surprised by the intensity of the moment.
Dinah’s voice drew him back into the conversation happening around him.“Abingdon insists on serving clear turtle for the opening course, though it’s frightfully out of favor since that incident with Lord Spatterfield’s chef.”Her eyes twinkled with mischief as she set aside her spoon in favor of her glass.
Abingdon looked up from his methodical dissection of a bread roll.“I maintain that nothing fortifies the nerves for an evening of Polite Society like turtle soup.Particularly when one’s younger sister is about to be unleashed upon said society in a matter of days.”
The comment drew a flush to Miss Westfall’s cheeks.She reached for her own glass, nearly knocked it over, and then composed herself with a forced laugh.“I suppose I ought to thank you for your confidence, sir.”Her voice quavered with an odd mixture of dread and delight, the tremor barely perceptible unless, like Nomansland, one watched her as if she were the rarest specimen in the room.
He did.Every line of tension in her neck, the gentle twist she gave to the corner of her linen napkin, was mapped in his mind with the thoroughness of a cartographer.He felt the slow burn of something sweet and deeply protective ignite within his chest.
“Don’t let my husband intimidate you, Chrissy,” Dinah said, but the protest was largely performative.Her tone suggested nothing on earth delighted her so much as a little intimidation.“It’s the nature of these things to seem monstrous until the night itself.Afterward, it will all be anecdotes and handshakes, and you’ll wonder why you ever worried.”
Miss Westfall sighed.“But will anyone even notice me?What if—what if I fail to make an impression?Or worse, what if I make the wrong sort of impression?”
“I assure you, my dear, you are wholly unforgettable,” Nomansland said, unable to restrain the warmth that crept into his tone.“And as for impressions, I’d wager at least half of Mayfair will be in attendance for the express purpose of being impressed by you.”
Dinah cackled.“Ha!See, Chrissy?Even the duke is reduced to empty flattery in the face of your nervousness.”She reached over and patted her sister’s hand, which was, at present, in the midst of wringing her napkin into a noose.
A liveried servant appeared at Nomansland’s elbow, exchanging the soup course for plates gleaming with a fan of thinly sliced salmon, garnished with sprigs of dill and the daintiest triangles of buttered toast.
Dinah ate a bite before continuing.“I have completed the list for the assembly.There are precisely one hundred and twenty-four names, not counting the necessary additions for chaperones and the handful of country cousins Abingdon insists upon for balance.”
“Who’s on the list?”Miss Westfall asked, eyes wide as she speared a morsel but seemed too nervous to actually eat it.
Dinah clasped her hands.“Let us see.Lady Rivenhurst, naturally, and her dreadful twins.The Duke and Duchess of Carroway.Lord and Lady Pembrooke.The Munsterleys, the Cordings, the entire Scarrington set, though I debated whether to leave out Lady Arabella—her penchant for inappropriate limericks is legendary.”
Nomansland watched with rapt interest as each name landed like a pebble in Miss Westfall’s composure.With the mention of Lady Rivenhurst, she only nodded.At “the Munsterleys,” her hand hovered a fraction higher above her plate, and at “Lady Arabella,” she stifled a giggle that sounded more like a hiccup.
“I expect Carroway to be a model of decorum, if only to counteract the duchess’s reputation,” Abingdon mused.He dabbed at his lips and said, “And Lady Rivenhurst’s twins are rumored to have sworn off capers this season.Or so she claims.”
“She claims a great many things,” Dinah replied dryly.
Miss Westfall was quiet for a moment, her gaze fixed on her glass.“It’s so many people,” she said finally.“I feel as if I’ll forget all their names by the end of the first dance.”
Nomansland leaned forward, as if there wasn’t a table between them.“If you forget every one of their names, simply remember you are Miss Westfall, the brightest ornament of the night.No one will mind.”
“But what if?—”
“Then you may rely on me to keep you afloat.I shall be at your side,” he said.
She smiled at him, the expression shy but more genuine than any he’d yet seen in this company.The urge to reach across the table and take her hand was almost overwhelming, but he contented himself with brushing his thumb over the rim of his glass and drinking in the sight of her.
The main course was next, roast beef carved at the table, with Yorkshire pudding puffed to golden heights, and a side of spring peas.
Abingdon picked up his fork.“I think what my wife means, Chrissy, is that there is no one on the list who will wish you ill.At least not openly, and not unless you dance better than Lady Arabella.Then, you may expect daggers and poisonedbon mots.”
“Dancing,” Miss Westfall said faintly.“I must practice, Dinah.I’m sure I’ve forgotten everything.”
“Nonsense.You spent as much time with the tutor as I did last year.”Dinah sipped her drink, then added, “If you appear to have difficulty at any point, we’ll let Nomansland cut in.He’s rather skilled, I’m told.He’ll make you look graceful.”
Nomansland inclined his head, matching her slyness with an even gaze.“I flatter myself that I am competent, at least.”
“And who, precisely, is expected to partner me for the opening set?”Miss Westfall tried to sound nonchalant, but the anxiety in her voice betrayed her.
Dinah’s lips twitched.“Why, the most eligible man in London, of course.You will be led out by Nomansland himself.I would settle for nothing less.”
Miss Westfall’s flush returned, brighter this time.She lowered her gaze, but not before Nomansland caught the quick, shy glance she shot his way, as if she were afraid to look too long at the sun.