Page 15 of His Scarred Duchess
“Not even close, my friend.” Daniel grinned. “Now, what else? Ah yes, they’re well-bred but prone to clandestine adventures. Rather exciting, don’t you think?”
“If you say so,” Edmund muttered.
“Oh, I do say so. Now, let’s consider our options for gathering information. There’s Lord Rutherford?—”
“Who’s perpetually in his cups,” Edmund interjected.
“Exactly! Then we have Lady Windhurst?—”
“And her infernal poodles.”
“You’re catching on! What about old Weatherby?”
Edmund snorted. “I’d sooner ask his horse for information.”
“Well then.” Daniel’s eyes twinkled mischievously. “That leaves us with the indomitable Lady Thistlewaite.”
Both men shuddered dramatically.
“You know,” Daniel said, leaning in conspiratorially, “we could always ask your grandmother. If anyone knows the comings and goings of every family in London, it’s the formidable Lady Alderton.”
Edmund blanched. “And have her interrogate me about my sudden interest in eligible young ladies? I think I’d rather face another cavalry charge.”
Daniel threw his head back and laughed. “The great Duke of Holbrook, the terror of the battlefield, quaking at the thought of his grandmother’s matchmaking schemes. Oh, how the mighty have fallen!”
“Yes, yes, very amusing,” Edmund grumbled, though his eyes sparkled with good humor.
“I suppose we’ll just have to do this the old-fashioned way,” Daniel responded.
“And what way is that?” Edmund asked, arching an eyebrow.
Daniel grinned, a determined glint in his eyes. “Why, attending every blasted social event in London until we find her, of course!”
“I have no int—” Edmund began, but before he could finish, Daniel raised his glass in a toast, ignoring him.
“To the Great Sister Hunt! May our livers survive the endeavor!” he exclaimed and clinked his glass with Edmund’s.
Despite rolling his eyes at first, Edmund felt a surge of excitement at the idea of encountering those flashing green eyes and sharp wit again.
Just once again.
Chapter Seven
“My dear Lady Adeline, whatever are you wearing? I dare say, that gown might have been fashionable… oh, five Seasons ago?”
Adeline froze, her hand tightening on her fan as Lady Beatrice Forsyth’s saccharine voice cut through the general hum of the soirée. She turned around slowly, plastering a polite smile on her face as she met the lady’s malicious gaze.
“Lady Beatrice, how kind of you to take an interest in my attire,” she replied, her voice steady despite the knot forming in her stomach. “I find that true elegance is timeless, don’t you agree?”
Lady Beatrice’s lips curled into a sneer. “Oh, of course. Though I suppose when one has… limited options, one must make do.”
Adeline felt her cheeks burn, acutely aware of the curious glances being cast their way. She had known attending LadyWindhurst’s soirée would be difficult, but she hadn’t anticipated such blatant cruelty so early in the evening.
“Adeline, darling,” her father’s voice cut in, his tone overly bright. “I believe Lord Welbourne was asking after you earlier. Shall we seek him out?”
Grateful for the interruption, Adeline nodded. “Of course, Father. If you’ll excuse us, Lady Beatrice.”
As they moved away, Adeline could hear Lady Beatrice’s tittering laugh—no doubt the woman was making some new joke at her expense with the gathering crowd. She took a deep breath, willing her racing heart to slow down.
