Page 14 of Tamed By a Duke
Relief washed over Hugh, and with a determined scowl of his own, he began to push his way through the crowd toward his friend.
"You're late," Orsino grumbled, as the two men finally reached him.
"Perhaps it is you who was early, Orsino," Montague replied with a roguish smile.
"No," Orsino frowned, "You're late. We said ten bells, it is now half-past. You both deserted me to defend myself against the hideous onslaught of meddling mamas."
As he finished speaking, Orsino caught sight of one such mama, making her way toward the trio, an optimistic smile upon her face. Orsino in turn, offered her a scowl so terrifying that it could shiver a corpse, which put a quick halt to the woman's approach.
"Do you practice those faces in a mirror?" Montague asked, genuinely interested.
"In battle, I had my pistol and sword," Orsino replied dryly, "In a ballroom, I am only armed with dark-looks. Though, to answer your question, no, I do not practice them. I find they come naturally."
"The ability to repel debutantes without having to even open your mouth is quite the gift," Hugh said, feeling a little envious.
"Now 'tis the spring, and weeds are shallow-rooted; Suffer them now, and they'll o'ergrow the garden," Orsino quoted, before clarifying himself to a confused looking Montague, "It means 'tis best to stop something from happening before it has begun, rather than after the fact."
"Good, good," Montague replied, as he took a sneaky nip from his flask, "Though there's not too many weeds here, by my eye. Roses abound."
"I think it's time to confiscate the flask," Hugh said, "If you're actually beginning to enjoy this ruddy circus."
"A man can appreciate the view, even from the gallows," Montague replied distractedly, his eyes focused on someone across the room.
Hugh followed his gaze and found himself looking at Lord and Lady Cavendish, who were standing guard over a beautiful young lady, whom Hugh guessed to be their daughter.
"You'll see the gallows sooner than you think, if you set your heart upon a Cavendish," Hugh observed. The enmity between the ducal seat of Staffordshire and the marquessate of Pembrook had begun around the time of the Norman conquest, and had endured for centuries since. Montague might look with appreciation at the Cavendish girl, but his father would disinherit him if he even thought that his son might take up with his enemy's daughter.
"A man can look," Montague said, turning his gaze back to his friends, "I need some distraction before the true entertainment of the night begins. Ho! Here he is, Dubarry himself."
Hugh looked up to see his cousin, his blonde hair gleaming beneath the tapers of the chandeliers, headed their way. Dubarry had, for once, managed to dress himself perfectly and had heeded the strict dress code set down by Almack's doyennes. If Dubarry had managed to pull his head from the clouds, rejecting his usualdéshabille,he must really mean business with this girl.
"You're here," Dubarry looked visibly relieved, "I had thought that you might welsh on me."
"Less of the welching talk," Orsino grumbled, for his own title was seated in the Vale of Glamorgan.
"And have more faith in me," Hugh added, with his own complaint, "I said that I would do this, and I always stand by my word. Now, point out to me the blowsabella you wish to shackle me to."
"Really, Penrith," Dubarry looked pained, "Miss Drew is no blowse, she is a well educated young woman. Let me see if I can spot her."
Dubarry scanned the room, letting out an "A-ha" of triumph as he spotted his mark.
"There she is, seated with Lady Havisham and Miss Violet Havisham," he whispered, nodding towards the seats under the balcony, upon which the orchestra played, "Miss Drew is the female garbed in the rust coloured gown."
Hugh craned his neck to try and catch a glimpse of this Miss Drew and, once his eyes had been pulled away from the elderly dame with half a peacock on her head, he finally spotted his mark.
Lud.
Hugh felt as though he had been kicked quite squarely in the stomach, as he realised that the Miss Drew he was to pursue was none other than his red-headed temptress from the day before. Tonight, her auburn curls were piled artfully—or haphazardly, depending on the viewer—atop her head, revealing a long, elegant neck, which Hugh had an overwhelming urge to nibble upon.
"You see," Dubarry whispered, "I told you she was no blowse."
"Indeed, she is not," Hugh replied, his mind whirring as he sought to plot his next step. Though he found this Miss Drew very attractive, it did not erase from his mind her impertinence at their first meeting. Hugh, proud as he was, rather relished the thought that he might have the upper hand over the minx for the next few weeks, and might tease her as mercilessly as he wished.
"Have you told Miss Bianca about our plan?" he queried of Dubarry, in a whisper.
"Not yet."
"Well, don't," Hugh replied, "I am adding a caveat to our agreement, and that is that Miss Drew must not know that I have agreed to help her with her father's edict."
