Page 4 of Her Ruse with the Rakish Duke
“Sure, and that is why you have been brooding into your drink for the past hour.”
“I have plenty on my mind. It comes with the title. I cannot say the same for you, having been leashed like a French bulldog.”
“What is that?” Harry asked with a frown. “A bulldog?”
“A vague idea,” Victor replied, recalling the animal he had seen on his travels. “Like that cloth on your neck, would you please take the damned thing off?”
“Will you speak with her if I do?”
Victor had known the man for ages. In Eton, he was the quiet child afraid to ruffle any feathers or spread his own. Amelia came into his life, and it was like a light went on inside him. “I think I should stay away from you.”
Harry had the audacity to scoff at the idea, “And who would put up with your grouchy attitude if you do?”
Victor retracted his gaze from the dance floor and peered into his glass. “Who says I have need for anyone? I am perfectly fine.”
Did he have to hold her waist so tight? Was that even appropriate?
Harry came to stand in front of him, blocking his view. “Tell that to the scowl gracing your face.” He stared deep into Victor’s face, making him uncomfortable. “You are still infatuated with Daphne, despite what you claim.”
“Move,” Victor snarled.
Harry took a leisurely sip from the glass in his hand, “you still write those heart-wrenching letters to her? What about the poems you composed in her name?”
“There were no poems,” Victor snapped, irritation blinding him.
Harry chuckled, “Ah, so letters then.”
“Stop it,” Victor growled.
“No, this is too good. You wrote letters to a woman you kissed one night, four years ago. How the mighty has fallen! I wonder what our mates would think about this wonderful situation.”
Victor saw that ridiculous red coat flash past, behind Harry. “If you dare…”
“I dare. If you do not tell her, I will broadcast your infatuation to them. Let them know that the cold bastard has finally been saddled.”
“Does Amelia know she is to be married to an insane man?”
“I believe that might be the source of her attraction. So, what will it be? Should I write letters of my own?”
“You are insufferable. If you do anything to taint her name…”
“And the hackles are finally out.”
“Idiot.” Victor drained his glass and looked around for a surface on which to set it down. It was at that moment that his eyes traveled across the room again. There were frown lines between her brows. That buffoon with whom she was dancing was saying something imploringly to her.
He wanted to go there and yank her from him. He reminded Victor of an oversized peacock. But he was not like Weatherton, and he did not leer at her. It was the only reason he remained with Harry.
Then he caught sight of a gaggle of mothers. They eyed him with such intent that his skin crawled with the aversion. Daphne made him sway, but it was not enough to endure this farce.
“I hate these things,” Victor griped. “I will never see the point of putting women on display.”
“Look beyond that. Can you honestly not see the people laughing, trading jokes and banter, forgetting their sorrows, and dancing until their energies burn out? Families are created here. Alliances are formed. It is more than just an auction as you call it. All you have to do is look.”
“All you have to do is look,” Victor completed with him.
Harry executed that rolled-eye move with perfection. Victor supposed it was a by-product of spending time with his wife-to-be. Harry said, “You are beyond redemption.”
“And you should polish the speech; it is the same every time. At least change the words.”
