Page 8 of Never Dare a Duke
But he did not like surprises, and his mother knew it. A crowded house party, for God’s sake, just when he’d come home hoping for a peaceful week to untangle his thoughts.
He could not miss that Lady Gwendolin, Lady May, and Lady Theodosia were in attendance, the three women he’d mentioned to his mother. He had thought he was safe discussing his future wife with the woman who’d borne him, but apparently not. There were also bachelors scattered in the crowd, and he knew they must be meant to interest Elizabeth.
But although his sister was glad for such help—he wasn’t.
He strode forward into the drawing room, watching as people hastily drew back to allow him easy access to his mother. It always made him tired to watch them scurry away from him. He nodded politely to the guests lining each side of him, and a wave of curtsies and bows followed in his wake. Lady May looked as if she hadn’t dared hope for his attendance. Lady Gwendolin, on the other hand, wore only her usual lovely smile, which seemed to hide so much. He’d had several intriguing conversations with her, leading him to think she had an unusual mind, full of contradictions that a young woman normally didn’t have.
At her side was the same brunette woman he’d seen with her in Hyde Park the week before. She was short and well curved to Lady Gwendolin’s lithe height, and seemed to eye him with purpose, as if she would discover the kind of man he was by considering him long enough. Was she simply another woman interested in snaring a duke? As he remembered her amusing comment about nude portraits, he found that he watched her a moment too long, for he almost stepped on his mother’s hem when he reached her sofa.
The duchess was trying not to chuckle as he bowed his head to her. He lifted her hand to kiss it.
“Mother,” he said simply.
She cocked her head, as if trying to read his emotions with that one word. “Madingley,” she answered, “I am so glad that you were able to put aside your busy schedule to attend.”
“And how perfect that you were able to plan this around the week I told you I would be home.”
There was a faint dimple in one cheek as she tried not to smile. “Yes, indeed.”
She bent her head, and he knew she was hiding the triumph in her eyes. It was an old game between them. She had wanted him settled for several years now, though he was but twenty-seven. He’d put it off, needing to improve the tattered reputation from his youth. Only now was he coming into the height of his power in Parliament and at the queen’s side.
Then he’d made the mistake of confiding in his mother the names of women he was considering as a future duchess. And now here they were, the three noblewomen—and Lady Gwendolin’s friend. Was she perhaps a companion? He ruled that out because her clothing, although not extravagant, still spoke of wealth, and she was mingling with Lady Gwendolin and the other guests.
It had been a long time since he’d felt as intrigued by a woman. They were always so transparent in their eagerness to court his favor—or his bed. Surely once they’d had more than one conversation, the mystery of her would no longer sway him.
The guests were seated male and female, so Abigail had a gentleman on each side to converse with. On her right, Lord Greenwich spoke rather loudly across the table to his wife, as if she were hard of hearing. On her left was Lord Keane, the bachelor with the sardonic expression and a knowing look in his eyes as he studied each woman. Gwen was on his other side, talking to the duke at the head of the table. Lord Keane watched them for a moment, then shook his head.
“Is there something wrong, my lord?” Abigail asked, as she looked with approval at the lamb cutlets and asparagus set before her.
“Of course not,” he said with a grin. “It is simply that we bachelors will have little attention now that the duke has arrived.”
“And you do not receive enough attention?”
He blinked down at her in surprise, then said lightly, “Why, no, we don’t, Miss…”
Though he’d forgotten her name, she let him off with easy grace. “Miss Shaw. And certainly Lady Elizabeth cannot be distracted by her brother.”
Lord Keane nodded and looked down the table at the duke’s sister, who laughed aloud at something the blushing Mr. Tilden was saying.
“Very true,” Lord Keane said. “And there is you, of course.”
“Me?” she asked with a bit of apprehension.
“The other ladies, obviously summoned for the duke, are the daughters of noblemen, but you are not.”
Thinking of Gwen as a possible duchess had never entered Abigail’s mind, and she would have to think of the ramifications to her story—and to her dear friend—later. “I cannot be grouped with them as a duke’s future intended,” she said ruefully.
Lord Keane laughed, causing the duke to glance at them from the head of the table. Abigail found that, for a moment, she couldn’t look away from that penetrating stare. Why did he keep looking at her? The foolish words she’d spouted in London kept echoing in her mind. He was making her feel confused and uneasy, two things she seldom felt. And she didn’t like it.
“Then why are you here, Miss Shaw?” Lord Keane asked her.
She was glad for the distraction, even though his question was rather blunt. “To be honest, I was visiting Lady Gwendolin when the invitation arrived. I offered to return home early, but she would have none of it.”
“Ah, brave of you to admit it.”
If the duke heard what she was saying, he would know she was an accidental guest. Of course, he was one himself, she thought with amusement.
“There is an interesting light in your eyes, Miss Shaw,” Lord Keane said.
