Page 12 of Her Ruse with the Rakish Duke
“I…I did?”
“I could never forget such a vicious glare…”
Daphne snorted. “How could you, you think you are God’s gift to women, Your Grace.”
“Girls! What has come over you?” The countess cleared her throat. “Your Grace…”
“My lady, my lord, I should show you to your rooms,” Harry broke in. “Let the young ones get acquainted.”
The countess looked back to make sure they were accompanied by their maids before taking the hand Harry offered.
“IknowI am God’s gift to women, my lady,” Victor countered, persisting with his amused voice. Melanie’s entire face was flushed.
“I am Percy. Percy Farton. Nice to meet you, Your Grace.”
He shook Percy’s proffered hand and then nodded toward his parents who were chatting with other couples. “Should you not take your parents to their rooms, Mr. Fart-ton?” Percy’s face darkened. Daphne would have laughed if she was not incensed with the man.
Percy’s throat worked, as though he was swallowing all the bad words he ached to say to the duke.
“Go. They await your guidance.”
Percy turned to Daphne and kissed her cheek. “I will see you at dinner.” With another glare at Victor, he did as he was told.
“Should you not be out hunting for the London girls that have missed you thoroughly? Being a pompous jerk is not exactly your style.”
“Hunting. I do like that word. Are you one of the ladies I am supposed to hunt?”
“I shall not be tainted with likes of you, nor am I one of the night ladies you frequent, Your Grace.”
He laughed outright, “Ah, night ladies. How exciting for me.”
Melanie dashed an elbow into the small of Daphne’s back. Daphne bit the inside of her mouth to restrain all the other sharp retorts boiling in her head. Victor was infuriating. How did she not notice that about him before?
How dare he refer to her childhood friend as Fart-ton?
“Lady Daphne, it does appear like this will be an exhilarating week for me, after all.”
“You speak as though your presence matters to me. I assure you it does not, Your Grace. If anything, I am revolted by it.”
“And here I thought you were pining for me.”
“Pine for a relentless rake? I do not think so!”
Daphne took Melanie’s hand and walked away, following her parents. Beside her, Melanie was shaking. Whether from fear, anger, or excitement, Daphne could not tell, for she too could not comprehend the stream of emotions that stirred frantically within her.
* * *
Victor chose and discarded several shirts. The coats he had brought were no longer feasible. None of them were colorful or flamboyant enough.
“Damn it, why the hell are all these colors a bore?”
Dan sighed, picking up the last one from the pile. “You have always been specific about black and white, Your Grace.”
“Then, should you not know better?”
“You burnt the last red shirt I bought. You said it reminded you of brothels. Considering the fact that you have never stepped foot in one, I cannot tell why you were certain.”
“I have been there,” Victor insisted. “Now, find me a wearable shirt.”
