Page 2 of Never Dare a Duke
She returned his nod, keeping her smile simple.Let him move on, please.
Gwen leaned forward. “Your Grace, allow me to present my dearest friend, Miss Abigail Shaw. Miss Shaw, the duke of Madingley.”
Once again she was forced to sit still beneath the duke’s perusal, praying that he wouldn’t associate her very common name with the newspaper. She could not curtsy, so she nodded again, feeling like a bobbing puppet. And then she met his eyes, determined not to start her new assignment with cowardice. He did not seem to show any recognition.
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Shaw,” he said.
She hated how much she enjoyed the sound of her name on his lips. How could she so easily fall into the trap of admiring a man simply because he was a duke? She was no better than her naive readers.
“And I you, Your Grace.” To her relief, her voice sounded normal, cool rather than fawning.
But that made him look at her with even more intent, as if he wasn’t used to levelheaded women. She bit her lip to keep herself from doing anything to make the situation worse.
“Miss Shaw is new to London, Your Grace,” Gwen said. “She was raised in Durham.”
Abigail stiffened. Now Gwen waslying? What was going on?
The duke gave Gwen a brilliant smile. “Then I am certain she is with the proper companion, Lady Gwendolin. Surely you have been sightseeing. What have you seen?”
Gwen seemed momentarily stunned at the unexpected question.
Abigail quickly said, “The new British Museum, Your Grace. I enjoyed the reading room.”
“Books, Miss Shaw? Not the paintings or sculptures?”
Oh heavens, could she have made herself seem any more plain and boring? But the duke’s smile never faded, and she imagined that he had plenty of practice at hiding his pity.
Gwen opened her mouth as if to cover the awkwardness, but Abigail spoke without thinking. “If I had said I admired the paintings, Your Grace, surely you would have teased me by asking if I preferred the nudes or the landscapes.”
He only blinked, Gwen stiffened, and Abigail thought surely time had frozen into a long moment of hot embarrassment.
At last, he chuckled. “A clever response, Miss Shaw. Do enjoy yourselves as you tour the city, ladies.”
He swept on past them, and the tight knot in her stomach slowly uncoiled. The carriage lurched back into motion.
Gwen broke into a peal of laughter.
“That was all your fault!” Abigail said, glaring. “You didn’t even warn me that you planned an introduction!”
Gwen only took her hands and squeezed. “You certainly captured his attention. But never mind that. Remember that everyone will want to read about him,” she said in an excited voice. “He is a handsome mystery. Surely your father will see that you deserve to write for the paper!”
“But you lied to him about me! Why was it important that he think I’m new to London?”
“Trust me, Abby. I will explain everything. I only have your best interests in mind.”
“But—”
“Don’t you want to interview me for your story? I could be your anonymous source.”
Though Abigail wanted to cling to her suspicions and questions, she helplessly shared a laugh with Gwen. Abigail thought the world of her friend, whose progressive father had sent his daughter to be educated in a school with daughters of the middle class. Gwen had never thought herself better than the others, and she’d proved herself a trusted friend through all sorts of mischief. Once, Abigail had convinced herself that a hated teacher was really a highwayman in disguise. It was Gwen who’d commandeered a carriage from the school stables at midnight, so that they could ride up and down the roads for hours, all to prove Abigail’s theory. She only shuddered to imagine what could have happened to them if the man had been a highwayman in truth instead of a distracted suitor secretly courting the local vicar’s daughter.
Abigail knew that she herself was far too inquisitive, prompting Gwen to throw herself into any adventure. Did Gwen now have a new one in mind?
Forcing herself to be patient, Abigail took out her pencil and notebook. “How long has the duke held the title?”
Gwen sobered. “His Grace was only eighteen when his father died, or so my mother told me. That was nine years ago, and I was still in the schoolroom, so I do not remember much. He was supposed to go to university like his ancestors, but of course he could not, what with his new responsibilities.”
“You would think a young man would feel overwhelmed,” Abigail said thoughtfully, wishing she dared to look over her shoulder and study the duke.
