Page 74 of A Duke in the Rough

Aunt Kitty grunted ahmphat the same time Frampton appeared announcing supper.

“Never mind, Miss Weatherby.” Simon moved to Anne’s side and placed her hand on his arm. “You shall sit by me at supper. You, too, Aunt Kitty. Perhaps you two should get to know each other better.” He held out his arm to Aunt Kitty and led the way into supper.

During the meal, Drake’s attention was divided between Simon flirting with Anne, and Honoria seated across from him. His motherand sister flanked him. The arrangement—another of Simon’s ideas—drew glares from Lord Stratford, seated several places away.

Odd, though. Stratford’s scrutiny appeared less hostile and more curious. He glanced between his daughter and Drake as if he searched for an answer to an unsolvable puzzle.

Drake’s tongue became glued to the roof of his mouth each time he looked across at Honoria.

Every lift of her fork, graceful, each bite of food, so delicately chewed, her conversation, pleasant and inoffensive, her laugh, light as air, she was the epitome of a woman bred to be a duchess. No wonder her father had objected to her lowering herself to marry a groom.

Lord, she was perfect.

Candlelight illuminated her face, calling attention to the freckles dotting the bridge of her nose and otherwise marring her ivory complexion. She’d been out in the sun too long. Oh, and that nose. Upturned just enough to make him want to kiss the tip. Her chin short, her forehead perhaps a bit too high.

And her lips? He couldn’t stop staring at them each time she slid a piece of food past them, and he thought of the night in the library when she’d licked chocolate from her fingers.

Someone groaned.

“Drake?”

He tore his gaze from Honoria.

His mother’s brows knit together. “Are you unwell?”

Realizing he had been thesomeone, he said, “I’m fine, Mother.”

“Then why are you moaning like a cow?” Juliana said.

Heat rushed up his neck, reaching the tips of his ears. He peeked over at Honoria.

A tiny smile graced her lips as she cast her gaze down toward her roast duck. “Perhaps he prefers beef. Otherwise he might have quacked.”

“Honoria!” Juliana giggled. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you make a funnier joke.”

Neither had Drake. He couldn’t restrain the smile tugging at his lips. “And at my expense. For shame, Lady Honoria. For shame.”

“I blame Juliana. She always did bring out the worst in me.”

Or the best.Drake loved the playful side she kept hidden but shared with him during their rides on her father’s estate.

Laughter erupted at the head of the table, and Drake darted a glance toward Simon. His head thrown back, Simon’s hand pounded the table in glee. Anne held a serviette to her lips, but her eyes gave her own laughter away.

Aunt Kitty, on the other hand, appeared appalled.

What bawdy story has he told this time?

Everyone at the table turned toward the spectacle. Stratford’s glare turned deadly, but for once Drake had not precipitated it.

As usual, Drake’s mother had the good sense to divert the attention of at least those in her proximity. “Have you known Miss Weatherby long, Lady Honoria?”

“Not terribly long. We met at a fête several years ago. People kept commenting how much we looked alike. In fact, at Ashton’s masquerade ball this year, Victor Pratt mistook Anne for me. And before you ask how I knew it was him”—she turned her attention to where Victor was chatting with Lady Miranda—“that should be obvious. That long blond hair of his tied back in a queue is quite unmistakable. A bit out of fashion, but also dashing, don’t you think, Juliana?”

Drake chuckled at the dumbstruck expression on his sister’s face as she gazed at Pratt and nodded woodenly.

When his attention returned to Honoria, jealousy churned his stomach. Perhaps he should grow out his short cropped hair. As he mused about what attracted Honoria to a man, she continued her story.

“I had promised him the next set, but when the time came for the dance, he approached Anne instead. We were both wearing the same shade of green.” She waved a delicate hand. “Even for an artist such as Mr. Pratt, it was an easy mistake.”

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