Page 78 of Never Besmirch a Wallflower: Dukes and Wallflowers

Helena peeled one eye open, then the other, twisting around in time to witness the Duke of Beaufort’s sleigh skid to a halt beside them.

“You could have killed us!” He jumped from his sleigh and stormed toward the Duke of Lennox.

“I knew you’d slow,” he replied in a calm tone, detaching the horse from the sleigh.

“Because I knew you wouldn’t!” The Duke of Beaufort flung his arms in the air.

“I had a wager to win.”

“I certainly hope your actions were worth the risk.”

The Duke of Lennox’s heated gaze slid over Helena. “They were.”

Helena blushed, the red color staining her cheeks. She turned away, hiding her face as the Duke of Roxburghe passed over the bridge, followed closely by the Duke of Mansfield.

“Ladies,” the Duke of Lennox said, winding the reins around his hand, “while we attend the horses, please warm yourself inside.”

After rising on her toes to brush a kiss against the Duke of Roxburghe’s cheek, Miss Webb led Helena and her sister along an imperceptible path toward the entrance.

They settled in the parlor, with Miss Webb seated at a writing desk hidden in the corner and her sister and Helena hovering around her in a loose circle and peering over her shoulder as she penned the first missive to Miss Sinclair.

“Do I admit what we’re doing?” Miss Webb asked, glancing up. “It may frighten people into refusing the invitation.”

“You must tell them.” The Duke of Mansfield’s deep voice rolled into the room, startling all three women. “If they don’t believe, the ceremony won’t work.”

“Aren’t you concerned with damaging?—”

“Lennox’s reputation?” he snorted. “Lennox can withstand the scandal. In truth, it might even elevate him in the ton’s esteem.”

“I certainly hope not,” the Duke of Lennox said, appearing in the doorway behind the Duke of Mansfield and crooking his finger. “Miss Rowe, while the invitations are being written, may I have a few moments in the hallway?”

Pressing her lips together, she nodded, wondering what she could have done in the last five minutes to require a solitary audience with him. Crossing the room, she accepted his offered elbow.

“Am I in trouble, Your Grace?” she asked, attempting to ease the trepidation pounding through her body.

“You are,” he replied, adding no further description as he led her down the corridor.

His gaze flicked behind her, catching Mansfield and Beaufort as they departed with approximately a dozen invitations to deliver to the neighboring houses, then returned to Miss Rowe.

She paled, her heart thrumming. “What have I done?”

“You’ve bewitched me.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

LEVI OVERTON, DUKE OF LENNOX

“You’re mistaken, Your Grace,” she replied, releasing his arm and backing away, her entire body trembling.

“I’m mistaken regarding my feelings?” He raised his eyebrows. “Are you claiming I don’t know my own mind?”

“No, Your Grace.” Her wispy voice barely reached his ears. “I meant that I’ve done nothing… to…”

She flushed, her skin glowing bright pink.

“I’m not accusing you of scheming against me,” he said, drawing her into his arms, “I’m admitting that I was wrong when I said any man would be fortunate to marry you.”

Jerking against his embrace, she tried to escape, but he tightened his hold.