Page 35 of The Dark Duke's Virgin

“Come!” His grandmother took his arm and pulled him from the circle. “It was lovely speaking to you all, but His Grace is a hot commodity.”

“Oh good—I mean, a shame,” Lord Chesterfield hurried to correct. “A shame, Your Grace, but ah… it was ah… excellent meeting you.”

Frederick looked at him plainly. “I highly doubt that.”

The man’s eyes went wide, but his grandmother was pulling him away before he could say anything else.

“Gosh, that Lord Chesterfield…” His grandmother clicked her tongue as she led him through the garden. “He could talk the ear off a corpse.”

“Shall we put that theory to the test?” Frederick muttered. “I volunteer.”

“Oh, nonsense…” She slapped his chest as she led him. “Admit it, you are enjoying yourself.”

“Is that how you see it?” he scoffed. “Or are you choosing purposeful ignorance.”

She chuckled. “Just a few more people, dear. Then, I promise you can leave. Now, where is Lord Harrowbrooke…”

Frederick’s back garden was a hive of activity the likes of which he had not expected when his grandmother had told him of her plans. Spread from the back door, through the garden, and onto the field that surrounded the back of the property, Frederick had been to Seasonal Balls less lively than this.

He counted four separate awnings, each large enough to comfortably fit two dozen people. He guessed there to be at least thirty waiters walking about serving drinks and snacks to nibble on. There was an area set aside for a game of crochet, plenty of tables and chairs which had groups sitting about them as they gossiped and drank, a darn orchestra set up on a small stage, and of course, a space left exclusively for dancing.

“Who are these people?” he asked as his grandmother led them.

“I told you, friends and acquaintances—ah! Lord Harrowbrooke!” she called out, keeping a hold of him as she led him toward a small gathering of elderly lords and their wives. “You simply must meet the host!”

Frederick groaned but forced himself to smile as he was led into the circle, many of whom were quick to say hello and then make some excuse to leave. Thankfully. That was, unfortunately, save for Lord Harrowbrooke whom Frederick had known since he was a lad and thus didn’t scare as easy as the others.

As Lord Harrowbrooke spoke endlessly about some political nonsense that he was involved in, clearly trying to get Frederick involved, Frederick looked over his shoulder, beyond the row of hedges that wove through the garden, catching sight of perhaps the only person here who he might have liked to speak with.

Even if he doubted that she wished to speak with him.

“… and I know that you know the right ears to whisper into,” Lord Harrowbrooke was saying. “Nothing untoward, of course. I am certainly not suggesting bribery.”

“I would hope not!” another lord whom Fredrick did not know chuckled bravely.

“Is that so,” Frederick said vaguely.

“Just a few of the right words spoken to the right people. You know what I am saying.”

“Yes, of course…”

“And if the votes should go my way because of it, happy days.”

“Very happy days…”

She looked better than Frederick could have imagined. More beautiful than he might have thought possible, even in his wildest fantasies. A picture of perfection. An angel come downfrom heaven to tempt him. The most beautiful woman at this party, and it was not even close.

Of course, he was talking about Miss Dowding.

The green dress she wore was elegant in the way it flowed down her body; seeming to shimmer in the light, spreading about her legs and fluttering in the breeze. But it was also tight, hugging her waist, cinching under her bosom, pushing her chest up. And with the very low neckline that the dress featured… it… was darn scandalous. No sleeves. Backless, also. As she turned, Frederick felt his chest tighten, his eyes skimming down her bare back and over her buttocks…

“Frederick, are you paying attention?” his grandmother nudged him.

“Hhmm?” He tore his eyes from her and focused them on Lord… Frederick did not even know the man’s name. Nor did he care. “I am sorry.”

“It is quite all right,” he tittered. “I was just saying, my granddaughter would love to meet you. She is not here today, but there is a ball coming up next week. Blast, I cannot remember who is playing host.”

“Oh yes, a ball…” He could not help himself, eyes again drifting.

---