Page 80 of Never Dare a Duke
Christopher heard his mother’s emphasis on the word “decided,” but Madeleine ignored such subtlety.
“And I thank you so kindly, Your Grace.” Her cat’s eyes slid to Christopher. “My brother Michael sends his regards.”
“Yes, I recently received a letter from him,” Christopher said.
Now she flushed but only lifted her chin higher. “Poor man, letters are the only way he can communicate with the world.”
Christopher stiffened, his smile disappearing with the gibe.
His mother briefly touched his arm. “Do introduce Miss Preston to our other guests, Madingley.”
Abigail watched the unfolding tableau with open curiosity. Christopher was obviously uneasy, the woman triumphant, and although the duchess looked polite, Abigail sensed an undercurrent of tension. Neither Christopher nor his mother liked the woman, but she didn’t seem to care.
Elizabeth was more openly troubled, but she smiled when Christopher brought the woman over to her to be introduced to those she didn’t know.
“That is Miss Madeleine Preston,” Gwen murmured.
Abigail glanced over her shoulder at her friend. “That name is familiar to me. She claims the duke invited her. Does his expression look that way to you?”
“No, it doesn’t. And I cannot blame him. I told you about her when we first arrived.”
“Oh, the woman who boasted that the duke was courting her,” Abigail said with new interest. “Shall we see what Elizabeth has to say?”
When they motioned to Christopher’s sister, she seemed glad to leave the older noblewomen to join them.
“We hope we aren’t being rude,” Gwen said, “but is Miss Preston a late arrival to your party?”
Elizabeth’s smile was faint and distracted. “She claims to have been invited, but I would never do that.”
“Why?” Abigail asked.
Elizabeth gave her a searching glance, then whispered, “Because she wishes to marry my brother, and he would not have her attempts at manipulation.”
“Ooh,” Abigail and Gwen said together, as if hearing all of this for the first time.
“Would she be here to cause trouble?” Abigail asked.
Elizabeth shrugged. “I hope she would not embarrass herself so. And her brother is such a wonderful fellow; although when he was young, he was more like his sister.” She pressed her lips tightly together, as if she regretted what she’d said.
But Abigail understood. Was Miss Preston part of the tragedy that haunted Christopher’s past? To look at the duke, he seemed in command, but she knew he’d done something he regretted, and if this Miss Preston thought to capitalize on his pain…well, Abigail could not allow that to happen. She felt protective of Christopher, and although he would never agree, he needed her help.
So Abigail excused herself from Elizabeth, took Gwen’s arm, and steered her toward the Ladies May and Theodosia, who stood together, fuming. They warily watched Abigail approach.
“Ladies,” Abigail said pleasantly, “it seems we have more competition.”
“This is so unfair,” said Lady Theodosia in her contained manner.
“I suggest we all make sure that His Grace has little time to devote to Miss Preston.”
“We can take care of that,” Lady May sniffed, sweeping past Abigail and Gwen. “You need not bother.”
When the two women had gone, Gwen said musingly, “We’re the competition, too, of course.”
But the two ladies performed admirably, stealing Christopher away, leaving Miss Preston to be leered at by Lord Keane.
Yet the woman was not going to be dissuaded. After dinner, when Elizabeth gathered everyone together to discuss the end of the ghost hunt two days hence, Abigail could only watch in helpless frustration as Miss Preston led Christopher out of the room.
Christopher knew that Madeleine would use any tactic she could for them to be alone together. She was not above making it appear she’d been compromised, so he did not plan to be in an enclosed room with her. He took her to the great hall, where several servants were lighting oil lamps. They hurried away when he nodded at them, and he almost wished they could remain as chaperones, but the large public room would have to do. He led Madeleine into a secluded corner, where two chairs faced a sofa. On the wall above were numerous battered shields used by his ancestors long ago, which now gleamed menacingly in the lamplight. She gave the décor a quaint smile. He indicated the sofa, and she sat down, leaving room for him beside her. He took the chair opposite her.
