Page 27 of Wedded to the Duke of Sin (Dukes of Passion #2)

CHAPTER 27

“ A bsolutely not. I simply cannot countenance puce ribbons on the bridesmaids’ gowns.” Lady Westhaven’s voice carried the kind of authority that would probably cow armies. “It would be an affront to both taste and tradition.”

“My dear,” Lord Westhaven murmured from behind his newspaper, “I believe the color was mauve.”

“Puce, mauve, it matters not.” She waved away the distinction with an imperious flutter of her fan. “The point remains that my daughter’s wedding will be the epitome of elegance. No questionable colors shall be permitted.”

Alice caught Evelyn’s eye across the drawing room and had to bite back a smile at the resigned amusement on her face.

They had gathered at the Westhavens’ townhouse for what was meant to be a simple afternoon tea to discuss wedding preparations. Two hours later, Lady Westhaven had vetoed everything, from the flower arrangements to the placement of the wedding breakfast tables.

“Perhaps we might consider the color blue?” Evelyn ventured. “A lovely cerulean would complement?—”

“Blue? In April?” Her mother looked positively scandalized. “My dear girl, have you taken complete leave of your senses?”

“I rather like the color blue,” Thomas piped up, earning himself a quelling look from his future mother-in-law.

“You, my lord, approved of the color puce.”

“Mauve,” Lord Westhaven corrected absently while turning a page of his newspaper.

“George, if you cannot contribute constructively to this discussion, I must insist that you retire to your study.”

“Oh no, my dear. I find myself quite invested in the… er… what are we discussing now?”

“Ribbon colors, Papa,” Evelyn supplied helpfully.

“Ah yes. Vital business, that.”

A knock at the drawing room door interrupted what promised to be a spirited debate about the merits of various shades of pink. The butler announced the Earl of Drakeley and Lady Joanna Frowerton.

“Gregory!” Thomas rose to greet his friend. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

“I came to discuss the livestock auction with Lord Westhaven,” Gregory explained, bowing to the ladies.

“How fortunate,” Joanna’s voice could have frozen the tea in their cups. “Another opportunity for you to share your enlightened views on female accomplishments.”

Alice glanced between them with interest. While she knew they had met before—Joanna had mentioned seeing him with Dorian several times—she hadn’t realized there was such tension between them.

“Still bitter about our discussion at Lady Spencer’s musicale last week, I see,” Gregory said with careful politeness. “Though I maintain that Haydn’s compositions?—”

“Are inferior to Mozart’s in every way,” Joanna interrupted. “As any person with true musical sensibility would understand.”

“Perhaps,” Lady Westhaven interrupted their increasingly heated exchange, “we might return to the matter of the ribbons?”

“An excellent suggestion,” Lord Westhaven agreed, finally lowering his newspaper. “Though I confess, I find the current entertainment far more engaging than discussions about fabric.”

“George!”

“My apologies, my dear. Do carry on about the… what was it again? Puce?”

“Mauve!”

Alice pressed her lips together, suppressing laughter as she watched Gregory and Joanna pretend to ignore each other while stealing glances at each other when they thought the other wasn’t looking. She had never seen her usually composed friend quite so ruffled—or quite so animated.

“If we might return to the matter at hand,” Lady Westhaven said, waving her papers with determination. “The wedding breakfast menu requires our immediate attention. I have concerns about the salmon.”

“What’s wrong with the salmon?” Thomas asked, then winced when his future mother-in-law’s eyes narrowed on him.

“What’s wrong with the salmon, he asks. As if serving fish at a morning reception isn’t scandalous enough, now he suggests that we serve it with dill!”

“I believe,” Lord Westhaven murmured, “that dill is traditionally?—”

“George, please do not encourage such innovations.”

Alice watched in fascination as Gregory, despite his apparent absorption with a painting across the room, positioned himself closer to where Joanna sat feigning complete indifference to his presence.

“The sauce is the crucial element,” Lady Westhaven continued. “No one of consequence serves salmon without a proper sauce.”

“Heaven forbid,” Gregory muttered, just loud enough for Joanna to hear.

“Do you mock the importance of proper sauces, my lord?” Her voice dripped with honeyed venom. “How shocking that a gentleman of your… refinement would dismiss such crucial matters.”

“Not at all, Lady Joanna. I bow to your superior knowledge of fish preparations. Though I confess, I find some topics more stimulating than others.”

“Such as your opinions on women’s intellect?”

“I rather thought we might discuss music again. You were so… passionate in your defense of Mozart.”

A becoming flush colored Joanna’s cheeks. “Any true appreciation of music requires passion, my lord. Though I shouldn’t expect you to understand such delicate sensibilities.”

“Oh?” Gregory leaned forward slightly. “And what sensibilities would you credit me with, Lady Joanna?”

“None whatsoever,” she replied sweetly.

Alice caught Evelyn’s eye and found her similarly struggling to hold in her laughter. Even Thomas had shed his usual indifference to watch the verbal sparring match unfolding before them.

“The sauce,” Lady Westhaven announced with dangerous emphasis, “will be served in the traditional manner or not at all.”

“Yes, Mama,” Evelyn agreed quickly. “Though perhaps we might discuss the seating arrangements?”

“An excellent suggestion!” the Earl of Westhaven emerged from behind his newspaper again. “I found myself quite lost at the Rutlands’ wedding last month. Ended up at the wrong table. Though I must say, the company proved far more entertaining than my assigned seat.”

“That is because you were supposed to be sitting at the family table, dear,” his wife reminded him with a long-suffering sigh. “Not gossiping with Lord Pembroke about horse racing.”

“Was I? How unfortunate. He had just reached the most fascinating part about his new stallion?—”

“My lord,” Gregory interrupted smoothly, “I believe we have to discuss the livestock auction?”

“Ah yes!” Lord Westhaven rose with suspicious alacrity. “Essential business. Must attend to it immediately. If you’ll excuse us, my dear?”

Lady Westhaven’s sigh suggested that this was not an unusual occurrence. “Very well. Though we still haven’t settled the matter of the fish course.”

“I am certain whatever you decide will be perfect,” her husband assured her, already heading for the door. “Coming, Drakeley?”

Gregory bowed to the ladies, his eyes lingering for a moment too long on Joanna. “Ladies. Lady Joanna, a pleasure as always.”

“Was it?” Joanna’s arch tone made Alice hide another smile behind her teacup.

The moment their carriage pulled away from the Westhavens’ townhouse, Alice collapsed against Dorian’s shoulder, her body shaking with laughter.

“Did you see Joanna’s face when Gregory commented about her ‘passionate’ defense of Mozart?” She wiped tears of mirth from her eyes. “I have never seen her quite so flustered.”

“Almost as entertaining as watching Drakeley trip over his feet when she entered the room.” Dorian wrapped his arm around her shoulders and drew her closer. “I have known the man for years, and I have never seen him lose his composure because of a woman before.”

“She’ll deny it completely, of course.” Alice settled more comfortably against him. “Did you see her expression when he disagreed with her about Mozart? I have never heard Joanna speak so passionately about music before.”

“Or so disdainfully,” Dorian snorted, his chest vibrating beneath her cheek.

“Indeed. I counted—she called him ‘insufferable’ at least six times in the space of one conversation.”

“Only six? Then there might be hope for Drakeley yet.” His fingers traced idle patterns on her arm. “Though I must say, your friend gives as good as she gets in their little skirmishes.”

“Rather like us in the beginning?” Alice tilted her face up to meet his eyes, finding them warm with shared memory.

“Hardly comparable, sweetheart.” He pressed a kiss to her temple. “We were much subtler in our warfare.”

Alice’s unladylike snort made him laugh outright. “I distinctly recall you calling me a ‘lost lamb’ the night we met.”

“And you implied that I was a degenerate rake.”

“Well,” she said primly, though her eyes danced with mischief, “I wasn’t entirely wrong about that part.”

His answering kiss effectively ended the conversation, but not before Alice heard him murmuring, “Thank God for that.”

“Have you noticed,” she mused, still nestled comfortably against his shoulder, “how Gregory seems to position himself wherever Joanna is, all the while feigning complete indifference?”

“Rather like a moth drawn to a particularly sharp-tongued flame.” Dorian chuckled. “Though I must say, your friend handles his attempts at intellectual superiority remarkably well.”

“She’s had practice. Her father hosts regular musical salons where gentlemen frequently attempt to lecture her on composition.” Alice smiled at the memory. “She usually reduces them to stammering wimps within minutes.”

“Poor Drakeley doesn’t stand a chance.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that.” Alice tilted her head thoughtfully. “I have never seen her quite so animated during an argument before. Usually, she simply dismisses her opponents with devastating politeness. But with him…”

“She engages.” Dorian nodded. “Gets drawn into the debate despite herself.”

“Exactly! And did you notice how he couldn’t keep his eyes off her even while pretending to study that ghastly portrait of Lady Westhaven’s great-aunt?”

“The one with the parrot? I believe he was watching Lady Joanna through the glass frame without being obvious about it.”

“Not that he succeeded.” Alice laughed softly. “Joanna was perfectly aware of his attention. She adjusted her shawl at least three times just to watch him try not to stare.”

The carriage turned onto Berkeley Square, and Dorian pressed another kiss to her temple. “Rather like someone else I know who used to feign complete indifference while being acutely aware of my presence.”

“I am sure I don’t know what you mean,” Alice said primly, though her eyes danced with mischief. “I was merely being observant of my surroundings.”

“Is that what we are calling it?” His voice held warm amusement. “Not strategic deployment of fans and shawls to drive a man to distraction?”

“That sounds quite calculating, Your Grace.” She affected an innocent expression. “Surely you don’t suggest I would employ such tactics?”

“Minx.” He caught her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm. “You knew exactly what you were doing every time you dropped your handkerchief within my line of sight.”

“Pure coincidence, I assure you.” She couldn’t quite suppress her smile. “Though I must say, your supposedly casual appearances at every event I attended were remarkably well-timed.”

“A duke must maintain his social obligations.”

“Even at that horridly dull poetry reading at Lady Jersey’s?”

“I have a deep appreciation for verse,” Dorian said with dignity, though his eyes sparkled. “The fact that you were seated directly in my line of sight was entirely incidental.”

Their laughter filled the carriage as it pulled up before their townhouse. Looking at her husband’s face, relaxed and warm with genuine mirth, Alice felt a surge of gratitude for how far they’d come from those early days of careful distance and unspoken desires.

“Poor Gregory and Joanna,” she murmured as he helped her down. “They have quite a journey ahead of them.”

“Indeed.” Dorian tucked her hand in the crook of his arm as they ascended the front steps. “Though I suspect they’ll find, as we did, that some battles are worth losing.”