Page 61 of To Defend a Damaged Duke
“It’s Lord Ludham and his darling wife I feel sorry for,” Lady Wardholme continued, her tone highly suggestive of the opposite.“If one of her suitors doesn’t offer his hand tonight, Lady Isabella might find herself at the centre of quite the disgrace.”
For the briefest of moments, she paused, but only to suck in a waspish breath before launching into the next chapter.“Although, I do believe another scandal might trump her this evening.”
“A-another?”Benedict’s insides twisted painfully.“Is…ah…?”
“Oh, yes.”Evidently about to betray a confidence, Lady Wardholme leaned even closer, serving as a reminder to Benedict that full-breasted ladies, or indeed, ladies, weren’t quite his thing.“Apparently, something even more disreputable.She pursed her lips in a futile attempt at disgust.“A distinguished male member of thetonis about to beexposed.”
At least on such a packed dance floor, Benedict couldn’t keel over.There was nowhere to keel.“Exposed?”he repeated unsteadily.
“Exposed,” she clarified.“Your Grace, are you quite well?I do believe you have segued into a cotillion step whilst we are still in the midst of a minuet.”
Benedict shook his head in a valiant effort to clear it.There was a plan, he reminded himself.A great plan.Falling in a panicky dead heap would be of no use to Francis and Isabella whatsoever.And he was a duke.And a rake.With dear friends who cared for him.And he had a lover worth more than life itself.
Bracing his shoulders, Benedict issued a firm, ducal stare.“Forgive me, but I do not dwell on idle gossip, my lady.”And then, because, first and foremost, he was a rakehell, he mustered something he hoped approximated a debonair smile.“How could I?When all your exquisite loveliness floats in my arms?”
“Oh, Your Grace, how right Miss Gresham was!”Lady Wardholme fluttered her lashes.Benedict’s hand had turned numb and tingly in her strong grip.“You make a girl feel quite giddy.Like an innocent debutante.Forgive my prattling.Let us talk instead of other things.Have you any preferences for wallpaper patterns?I am of a mind to refurnish my breakfast room.”
*
“HOT UNDER THEcollar, Your Grace?”
“You have no idea.”Benedict sagged against a cool wall.“The sight of you, my dear Beatrice, is truly a balm for sore eyes.”
If Benedict weighed less, he would have enjoyed floating off in Beatrice’s sensible arms for a while.Off and down the street, if at all possible.Instead, he had to make do with allowing her to demurely curl her hand around one of his and lead him to the fresh air of the blessed balcony, wondrously open and miraculously empty.
“I have a key,” his companion explained as if being in possession of a key to someone else’s balcony doors, and seemingly the sole owner, was perfectly normal.Frankly, he lacked the strength to query it.
“From your flustered demeanour, I’ll wager Lady Wardholme began discussing wallpaper.”Beatrice nodded to herself as Benedict drooped against the wrought iron balcony rail.“You’re not the first.”
In sharp contrast to the dazzling chandeliers of the ballroom, inky blackness swathed the garden and the balcony.Benedict blinked a few times as his eyes adjusted.Then, realising the guests inside couldn’t see out, not unless they squished their aristocratic noses to the glass, he loosened his cravatandthe top two buttons of his waistcoat.
“Apologies, Beatrice.But consider this lapse in decorum preferable to me dissolving in a puddle and then streaming out over the side.Those flower beds are a considerable distance beneath us.”
Beatrice waved him away.“Unbutton a couple more, Your Grace.”She wasn’t paying attention to him anyway, too busy studying the gallivanting on the other side of the glass.“Decorum and I parted company years ago.As did a fascination with the male of the species.And anyhow, a dishevelled cravat is a marvellous touch of improvisation; I should have thought of it.”
Tearing herself away from the goings-on inside, Beatrice cast her gaze over him.“You don’t look quite the thing, Your Grace.Lady W didn’t take undesired liberties, did she?She has the most dreadful wandering fingers, according to Francis.”
“Lord, no.”Benedict shook his head.“Nothing like that.Just stiflingly hot, that’s all.And…and Lady Wardholme also hinted regarding Lyndon.Not by name, thank God.But it’s clear the ladies have caught the scent of something brewing in the air.In amongst the stale sweat.”
“Ah.”Beatrice nodded calmly and resumed watching the ballroom.“Yes.I see him.Lyndon’s just arrived with some chums.From the sway of his shoulders, he’s utterly spangled.”
“Oh joy.”
“He’s on his toes, craning his neck.Searching for you, I’ll be bound.”She stepped a pace back from the window, unperturbed.“Good.Now we simply wait here until the bell rings for dinner.I say, what lovely rhododendrons these are, growing up this back wall.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
UNQUESTIONABLY, LADY ISABELLAKnightley was having the time of her life.For the last hour, she had been tossed between Mr Angel and Tommy like a prettily embroidered pin cushion.Lord Ludham, on the other hand, was not enjoying his evening.Tommy had seen less gloomy cats stuck in rainstorms.He felt quite sorry for him; the chap didn’t seem a bad sort.
Nonetheless, his distress mostly passed unmarked, as not only were Isabella’s antics keeping thetonentertained, but a new rumour gathered pace around the ballroom.According to Miss Gresham, the gallant fourteenth Duke of Ashington had thwarted a determined Lady Wardholme’s advances by employing a neat trick calleddisappearing into thin air.Moreover, he’d taken the high-spirited Honourable Beatrice Hazard with him.
“Pssst!”Francis hissed as he and Tommy refreshed their glasses.“Look over there.Lyndon has appeared.”Mr Angel joined them, with a creased and pinkly glowing Isabella hanging on his arm.All four downed their drinks in one.The incendiary heat had turned the ballroom into an airless crush.
“Of course he has,” answered Isabella.“He reliably turns up in time for the free supper.”
Tommy followed the direction of Francis’s gaze in time to see Lord Lyndon Fitzsimmons confirm his entry into the fray by stumbling through a set of doors and knocking over two potted plants.Tommy tightened his hand around the glass.Where in hell was Benedict?
“Then the stage is set,” murmured Mr Angel.“All we need now is the remainder of the cast.Has anybody seen His Grace?”
