Page 11 of Her Ruse with the Rakish Duke
Lord Suffork rubbed a large hand on his gut and laughed. “I can see that. Especially the bride-to-be. Congratulations, Lady Amelia.”
Percy’s mother, Lady Suffork, touched the frills on Amelia’s white dress, “and your dress is exquisitely done. When this is over, I must know who supplied it.”
“Of course, my lady. Thank you.” Amelia blushed.
“Lady Daphne, lovely as usual,” Percy complimented, strutting to her side and lowering his hat in a salute.
“Thank you, Mr. Farton,” she replied, pasting on a fake smile.
Lady Wallace clasped a hand to her chest, “Do they not look dashing together?”
Discreetly, Daphne shifted to the right, and moved a little bit further forward. She really did not want to be associated with Percy in that sense.
The servants came to take their luggage. The parents continued chatting while Melanie and Amelia coordinated the packing. Her parents spoke in low voices that were unlike them, picking flints out of each other’s clothes, and showering compliments on the Sufforks.
Percy slid closer to her, “You seem tense, Daph.”
“I am fine.”
He made a sound in his throat, “Youarefine. I do know this week will be torture for me. Youaretense.”
“That is because you will not stop talking nonsense, Percy. Stop encouraging them.”
“Shall I recount why us getting married is a good idea?”
“Talk about anything else, please.”
“Will you marry me?”
Daphne huffed out her exasperation. The sun had baked them all to bad tempers. She did not need Percy adding to it. Daphne was afraid that he would say something to make her snap. She would not hear the end of it from her parents.
Several guests were clattering up the lane. Another couple joined her parents and the Sufforks. They congratulated them and drew Amelia into their circle, further shifting her and Percy apart.
“What do you say? Should we announce our engagement too? You will receive all of the attention.”
“I despise that much attention, thank you very much.”
Daphne swept up her skirts and took one step.
“Lord and Lady Wallace,” a deep voice called from behind. Victor Anderson stepped out from behind her parents, followed by Harry Norman, the Marquess of Lutton. Her new brother-in-law-to-be grinned from ear to ear.
Daphne’s heart stumbled as she jerked her gaze away from him. His black coat and dark hair were both lighter than his heart. Her parents opened their arms to Harry, exchanging pleasantries with the Marquess.
“You know my friend, the Duke of Kensington, he arrived just in time for the ceremony.”
“Your Grace,” Lady Wallace gushed. “It is my utmost pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
“As it is mine,” Victor said, holding out his hand. Her father gave Victor a firm shake, passing a meaningful glance at Daphne. She felt a headache coming on before her father announced.
“This is my daughter, Lady Daphne, and her cousin, Miss Melanie Keats. Come, come.”
Daphne wore a tight fake smile and went to answer her father. She was determined to remain civil. If he wanted to be the idiotic rake, then she could be the aloof damsel.
She would not spend another minute bawling into her pillow over a man who did not have a shred of integrity. So, she was not experienced like his other women, so why did he graze her lips like a man about to die?
Melanie frowned at him. “Good day, Your Grace.”
“I know you, Miss Keats,” Victor said with an amused tone, startling Melanie. “You glared at me a few weeks ago at the ball.”
