Page 11 of The Duke’s Guide to Fake Courtship (Daring Debutantes #1)

‘I knew this dress was wrong,’ Grace said once the carriage started moving.

‘Why ever would you say that?’ her father asked, without even looking at the hideous bow of her gown. ‘The modiste said it was the peak of fashion. And both His Grace and Lord Domac said you look lovely.’

Grace looked at her sister. ‘He said he was pleased to see me. Lord Domac said I looked beautiful.’

By which she meant that the Duke was not a man to lie, whereas Lord Domac clearly was.

She watched as Lucy’s eyes widened, and she nodded as if she understood. But her father was oblivious.

‘There you go,’ he said as he smiled warmly at her. ‘You are in the height of fashion.’

She did not argue. What was the point? He would see what he wanted to see, and thankfully he saw them both through the eyes of love.

‘Father,’ she said as she took his hands, ‘thank you for that, but you know you do not have a head for fashion.’

‘Fashion is ridiculous all the world over, and there is no putting logic to it. I am merely pleased that you have garnered the attention of not one, but two exalted gentlemen. Just imagine what it will be like tomorrow night at your first ball.’

Her smile grew strained. If her gown today was as wrong as she believed it might be, then her ball gown would be a disaster. The modiste had been too busy to give them much attention and had pulled the gown from somewhere in the back of her shop. She’d said it was all the rage, and Grace had no ability to disagree. Now she wondered if the woman had palmed off a terrible gown upon a person who didn’t know better.

There was no help for it, of course. She was wearing it now.

Meanwhile, her sister poked her in the side. ‘The Duke looked very handsome, didn’t he?’

Grace felt her face flush. The Duke always looked handsome, but he’d seemed tense to her. His movements had been tight, his jaw clenched. There was a fight brewing between him and his cousin, and she wondered what words were being spoken.

Lucy gave her a mischievous smile. ‘Maybe you think Lord Domac outshone him.’

‘I think Lord Domac has a flatterer’s tongue. I never know what to believe when he speaks.’

‘Don’t be silly. All you have to do is look at his mouth. When his smile is tight, with a lot of teeth, he has not spoken the full truth. He never lies outright. But when his lips are parted and relaxed he is open and honest.’

Grace frowned, trying to remember Lord Domac’s mouth. ‘How was he when he talked about my dress?’

Lucy shrugged. ‘I couldn’t see.’

Which was no help at all. And it didn’t matter anyway because their carriage came to a stop.

Their father stepped out first, and then turned to help them. It was only as she cleared the carriage that she got her first look at the madness that was Hyde Park at the fashionable hour.

Circling the park were a slow promenade of dozens of carriages. A row of palanquins would have moved faster than those plodding horses, with men and women preening from their seats. The colours were dizzying to see, not to mention the abundance of ribbons and feathers. Even some of the men wore fabrics in bright patterns that made it so she could only see the colours and not their faces. It was as if she stared at a parade of attire.

Perhaps her bow was not as much out of style as she’d thought.

But a more narrow-eyed look around told her that no woman wore a bow as large as hers. And, worse, none of the elaborate knots were at the front, preceding the body like the bow of a ship. Good Lord, she looked ridiculous.

‘Oh, dear,’ she said as she turned to her sister. ‘I think the modiste was playing a joke on us.’

‘Nonsense!’ Her father laughed. ‘Do you not see the feathers on that woman’s head? Or whatever pattern that is on the gentleman there? Fashion is nonsense. You fit right in.’

She didn’t think so. And the moment she saw a pair of girls eye her and burst out laughing she knew she had the right of it. She grabbed her sister’s hand. ‘Quick. Pull this wretched thing off me. Rip it if you have to.’

Her sister’s eyes widened, but she quickly agreed—though the movement was awkward, given that they were still in view of everyone. Grace tried to shield herself in the carriage, but it could hardly be done in secret. Worse, there was a telltale ripping sound as the stitches were pulled.

Fortunately, the ribbon had been attached to the top of the gown, not as part of the seam. So long as she was careful, her gown would stay in place. She hoped...

‘There,’ her sister said as the knotted fabric fell away.

‘Oh, dear!’ came a masculine voice from the opposite side from the park. ‘Did you rip your gown?’

It was Lord Domac, striding forward with a sunny smile on his face. Since Lucy was busy tossing the bow behind her into the carriage, Grace was left to face the man alone.

‘Yes, I’m afraid I was clumsy and stepped on it,’ she lied. Then she frowned, looking over Lord Domac’s shoulder. ‘Whatever happened to the Duke?’

‘Oh, he’ll be along in a minute. He’s older, you know. One has to allow for his advanced age.’

Advanced age? That was a lie if ever there was one. She knew the Duke had climbed the rigging more easily than Lord Domac. And now that she looked closely at the future earl, she saw sweat darkening his shirt collar. More likely Lord Domac had run ahead while the Duke had maintained a sedate pace.

‘Did you race one another here?’ she asked.

‘And I won!’ he quipped happily.

Then she spied the Duke, sauntering up the street. His steps were long, his movement steady, but there was a tightness in his gait that she’d never seen before. She glanced to her sister, wondering if Lucy saw the same thing, but her sister was gazing up at Lord Domac with a worshipful air.

Damn! The girl’s infatuation hadn’t dimmed.

Grace stepped forward, coming between her sister and Lord Domac. ‘There is the Duke,’ she said, too loudly. ‘Look at the way the sun shines on his hair. I’ve never seen such a thing before.’

Well, not since walking on the bridge in St James’s Park with him.

Lord Domac snorted. ‘Blond locks are commonplace here. It’s really nothing special.’

Possibly not, but she liked it that the man kept his hair clean. It was one of the things that she appreciated on land—the fact that one could bathe more often than only whenever there was a storm.

‘Never mind that,’ Lord Domac said. ‘Shall we begin our promenade? Unless,’ he said after a pause, ‘you wish to put that bow back on? I believe we could make it stay close to where it is meant to be.’

Or it might fall off at the most awful time.

Fortunately, another voice interrupted before she could form a response.

‘I believe that the gown is much improved,’ said the Duke as he joined them.

His voice was a low rumble that didn’t startle her so much as shiver down her spine all the way to her toes. And why were they curling as if they had been touched?

She meant to say something. She even opened her mouth. But her mind was blank. He stood right beside her, his body large, his expression congenial, and his eyes...

Oh, dear.

There was something in his eyes. Something dark and heated. Something that made her tense even as it thrilled her. She was not a woman who ran towards danger. Indeed, she was the exact opposite. She was looking for a safe harbour from the world. And right now she really ought to be running away.

‘Your Grace?’ she said, her voice a bare whisper.

‘Come,’ he said as he held out his arm. ‘I believe I promised you my escort.’

She knew she was supposed to set her fingers on his forearm. But he held his arm out to her as if it were a club. Was she to grab it and bludgeon someone?

She hesitated, uncertain of him in this mood. And in the middle of her hesitation, Lord Domac chortled.

‘Sweet heaven, Declan. Stop being such an imperious prig. You’re frightening the girl.’

Then he smiled his most charming smile and held out his arm for her. She knew it was his most charming look because they had practised exactly this kind of promenade on the boat from China. She hadn’t had full command of English then, so she had memorised all his different expressions instead.

And now she was wondering if that meant his mouth was tight with teeth or parted and relaxed. She had no idea. And yet she couldn’t quite bring herself to cling to the Duke. He was obviously in a strange mood.

So she did what she’d always done in China when she was unsure. She stayed on her own until she knew exactly who was offering what.

‘If I can run the ratlines aboard ship, then I can surely walk without aid in a park. Yes?’

‘Grace!’ her father said, his tone exasperated. ‘You are not to mention that.’

‘My apology, Father,’ she said quickly. Then she looked at her sister, who had not said one word since the men had arrived. ‘Lucy, let us walk arm and arm, yes? I see several ladies doing that.’

‘Oh, yes!’ her sister said.

And so they began their walk, with herself and Lucy leading while the three men trailed behind. Grace and her sister whispered between each other, commenting on the clothing they saw as they smiled at everyone who looked their way. And indeed there were several people who looked directly at them. So many that Grace began to memorise the pattern of their every glance.

First their eyes widened in surprise, then there was a slow pinch to their lips as their gazes hopped to the men, and then they leaned close to a companion, be it male or female. All too soon sneering laughter would erupt, and all the while Grace felt her belly tighten with dread. She knew mocking laughter when she heard it. And she knew disgust in every glance. After all, such was the reaction in China when anyone saw her half-white face.

‘I do not think this was a wise idea,’ she said in Chinese.

‘Not if we were alone,’ came her sister’s response in the same language. ‘But we are with powerful men. We must use it.’

‘How?’

Her sister tensed, then whispered urgently. ‘Pick your man now. Either the Duke or Lord Domac.’

‘You cannot simply demand—’

‘The Duke. I agree.’

Then she abruptly shoved Grace sideways, hard enough that Grace stumbled...straight into the Duke’s arms.