Page 48 of The Duke's Spinster

“He said—”

“Oh there you are, Your Grace.” Countess Linsgate cooed. “I believe you’re escorting me in for dinner this evening.” She wrapped her tentacles around his arm and pulled him toward the doors.

It would have to wait, but she would tell him. There was nothing worse than secrets in a relationship. She would have to make a point to bring that up before accepting his proposal.

It took a few moments for everyone to find their seats. In the commotion, Joan found her and whispered. “What’s going on?”

“Botheration. Has everyone noticed?” Momentarily she forgot that her actions were now under fastidious scrutiny, being the duke’s object of affection.

“Put a smile on. No, not that big. Tone it down a touch. Yes, that’s perfect.” Joan patted her arm. “I doubt anyone else would recognize your disquiet, but I’m your sister. I know your facial expressions.”

“Thank you.”

“Is everything all right?”

“It will be. I hope.”

“You are a strong, capable woman, Boudicca. Whatever it is, you can handle it. And if for any reason you can’t, we’re all here for you.” Joan, the quiet one, the most reserved of all four daughters, was soft-spoken but poignant, and Boudicca couldn’t have been happier to have her.

Zenobia was quickly at her side with Artemisia, a flash of consternation on their faces, swiftly replaced with plastered smiles.

“What did he do?” Nobi ground out through clenched teeth. Her soft demeanor was a facade. She was likely the fiercest of them all. The makings of her ferocity were that of a mother bear with her cubs, and if anyone were to hurt the one she loved, there would be a bloody price to pay.

Boudicca’s eyes misted, but it was not the time or place for displays of emotion.

“He didn’t do anything. I don’t think. Or maybe, not yet.” It was a confuffled mess in her mind as to whether or not he had done anything. She didn’t want to presume guilt without knowing the facts.

“That sounds like he did something,” Mimi’s smile was less plasterful than the others. She was not one to easily hide herself.

“It’s all right.”

“Bodi—”

“Mimi, it’s all right. I’ll rally the troops if I need to. I know you’re here for me.”

“We are,” the three chorused.

“I know. And I love you all for it. Now let’s eat before someone asks where the four Wells sisters are.”

She quickly squeezed her sisters’ hands and then they found their seats. She knew she was blessed to have such a caring and supportive family, and that knowledge bolstered her confidence.

Soon conversation was flowing and Boudicca was almost diverted enough to forget her current plight. Until a subtle trillof a laugh caused her to catch sight of Lady Simone’s hand on Wesley’s forearm.

What the deuce was she laughing at? And didn’t she know women weren’t supposed to laugh that loudly in public? Especially in mixed company.

Then she saw Lady Simone flutter her long eyelashes at Wesley and moue her lips, feigning admonishment.

The duke flirting at dinner. The duke’s seemingly impulsive decision to attend the garden party. The duke’s peculiar behavior on Rotten Row. All three instances involved Lady Simone. It couldn’t be a coincidence, could it? He didn’t seem to have a tendre for her, for he had labeled her a gossip. Almost disdainfully so. But the way he was saying things to make her laugh…and the way she was laughing at everything…He wasn’t that funny.

Oh Lord, if there hadn’t been all these people around she would have thrown her potatoes at the woman. However, if there hadn’t been all these people around, perhaps Lady Simone wouldn’t be acting so flirtatiously. Food for thought, it was.

All the same, did Wesley have to leave his arm on the table for all and sundry to fondle? Or was he the type of man to dally with other women when in a relationship? That would not do. Another point to bring up before she gave him her answer. The list of stipulations was growing.

If she waited any longer to give her answer, she would have to start writing the list down.

Chapter Eighteen

After her observationsof Lady Simone’s coquettish ways, she lost track of the conversations around her, nodding when it seemed appropriate and regurgitating a few select phrases such as,Do you really think so?andCould it be?It was sufficient to satisfy the people sitting beside her. Though it hardly did anything to assuage the gnawing feeling in her gut. She couldn’t remember ever feeling such a twisting in her stomach. As though someone were kneading bread in there. It was an awful feeling. Awful, more so, because she had to admit that this feeling was…jealousy. And she was not a jealous person.

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