Page 38 of The Duke's Spinster

“Remember not to stare at him, Zenobia. Christopher will make his way over here eventually. He’s a friend.” Boudicca half-admonished, half-encouraged her sister.

“I wonder who he’s with…all I can see are the backs of their heads.” Mimi was straining her neck and altogether staring at Christopher, albeit not all doe-eyed like Nobi.

“They’re all dukes. The Betting Buddies I hear them called,” Joan said.

“You do? Where do you hear them called that?” Mimi curiously turned her attention to Joan.

But Joan merely shrugged. “Around. If you were a bit older…” she let the teasing phrase hang in the air.

“I’ve been around nearly as long as you have.”

“Sisters,” Boudicca hissed, “please keep it to yourself. I’ve never heard of them, and I’ve been around the longest. Joan’s probably pulling your leg. If you let go, she’ll fall on her bottom.” She threw Joan a smile, and the sisters continued their bickering in a hush.

Boudicca brought her teacup to her lips, and trembled at the thought of her kiss earlier. It wasn’t as easy as she had hoped to not think about him. His thick rippling muscles and his sandalwood scent. With an inhale, she could practically smell him. Perhaps another guest in attendance wore a similar fragrance to him.

Him.

There he stood. Right in front of her. He dipped his head and gave a half smile.

Mimi was giddy beside her. “Did you see that?” she hissed at Boudicca as if her heart wasn’t already in her throat.

Wesley tipped his head to one of the refreshment tables with raised brows. Oh my God, he wanted to speak to her again. Now. They had just seen each other a couple of hours ago. His gesture had communicated a question, so she nodded.

She tried not to watch as he approached the refreshment table, filled a plate, and sauntered over to them.

Ever the gentleman, he greeted those at the table and then set before her a plate of pistachio ice.

Her favorite. He remembered? She had mentioned it, but it had been so brief.

Her eyes sought his, unable to hide the question.

“It’s your favorite, right?” he whispered.

He eased himself into the chair beside her. And from the half-lidded look he was giving her, she thought for sure he was going to feed her a spoonful.

Thank God for Mimi. “How lovely! I didn’t realize they had ices.”

“Just served,” he said.

“And pistachio. That’s Bodi’s favorite.”

“Really? I had no idea.” He turned to his own flavor, white coffee, and took a bite.

Mimi poked her in the ribs and whispered, “I think I know something real when I see it.”

“He’s just here as a guest. He’s here for the”—she strained to think of what he could possibly be here for when sayingtea partydidn’t quite fit—“fun.” That was bathetic.

“Right. And I’m here for the comfortable chairs.” Mimi scoffed. “He’s here for you, Bodi. Just accept it.”

Well, he wasn’t here for fencing. And likely not kissing. So…perhaps, just maybe, he was here for her. She smiled.

“That good?” Wesley leaned closer, brushing her arm as he moved.

“Delicious. Thank you.”

“You mentioned you were coming today.”

Her heart pounded. He was here just for her. That notion was surreal. A dream. A fantasy. Something she had given up long ago. Or maybe, had never even truly allowed herself to have. Adonis had his eyes set on her. Her head was swimming. She took a quick look around and noticed several discrete pairs of eyes on her. The Countess of Linsgate. Lady Simone. And a few more envious looks. She had never been the center of such attention and envy. People vying to catch a glimpse of something that would later turn into gossip.

---