Page 9 of The Design of Dukes
A tiny prick of awareness slid up Romy’s spine, though she didn’t care for the man stomping about Madame Dupree’s in the least.
“Your Grace, I apologize,” Beatrice said, all modesty and fluttering lashes. “I was dealing with a most impertinent employee”—she gestured helplessly in Romy’s direction—“who refuses to assist me.”
The Duke of Granby swept further into the modiste’s shop, his presence sucking up all the available air in the small space. A thick wave of ebony hair fell forward over his left eye and he pushed it back with a flick of his wrist.
Errant wave of hair. One wonders why he didn’t just order it to obey him.
She hadn’t seen him in close to two years, not since they’d traded insults at Lady Masterson’s garden party. Much like that occasion, Granby appeared to be annoyed with everything around him, which, at the moment, included her. He hadn’t changed one whit, except he was now frequenting dress shops with Lady Beatrice Howard.
Would he recognize her? It had been quite a long time ago, and she’d barely merited his attention.
He called me a shrub.
“Your Grace.” Romy dipped politely though they’d never been properly introduced. “As I explained to Lady Beatrice—” She lifted her eyes slightly, taking in the hem of his coat. It was perfect. Exactly the correct length. That, at least, was pleasing. He’d taken her advice and found a better tailor. “Madame Dupree is closed for the day.”
His eyes, like bits of onyx, gleamed at her, peeling away the sack of a dress with one look. Gaze roaming over her carefully, he examined Romy, mouth softening slightly in appreciation.
The oddest sensation rippled over her skin, pleasant and vaguely sensual.
“You know who I am?” Beatrice seemed not to notice Granby’s attention was fixed on Romy. “Then you know how important I am to Madame Dupree.”
“Of course, you are.” Madame Dupree swept into the room with a deep curtsy. “Lady Beatrice, my apologies. I was not expecting you and was about to close for the day. Your Grace, what a pleasure it is to welcome you to my shop.”
“Your assistant is insolent.” Granby snorted in annoyance. “You should have her sacked.” The dark eyes lingered on Romy’s mouth before dismissing her with a tick of his chin.
Romy swallowed the insult hovering at her lips, though she dearly wished to fling it at him.
Madame Dupree’s crimson painted mouth opened with an audible pop, clearly horrified at his assumption that Romy worked for her.
“My assistant?” she choked out, glancing at Romy and then back at Beatrice. “Non. Surely you are jesting with me, Lady Beatrice. You are acquainted with Lady Andromeda, are you not?”
Beatrice turned the color of a beet, mottling the perfection of her otherwise porcelain skin. The arrogant tilt of her chin slid down. “Of course.” A stiff, false smile graced the rosebud of her mouth. “We are well acquainted. It was a jest, nothing more. Wasn’t it, Lady Andromeda?”
Romy enjoyed every moment of Beatrice’s discomfort.Gossipingtwit.
“I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.” The rasp of Granby’s voice hovered in the air, like winter frost. There was no hint of apology that he’d assumed her a shopgirl and ordered her to be sacked.
Arrogant, rude...vulture.
Romy’s gaze roamed up his form, clothed entirely in black with not even so much as a pattern on his waistcoat. Only the pale cream of his cravat helped break up the dismal monotony.
“We have not.” Romy didn’t bother to extend her hand.
He doesn’t remember me.Somehow that bothered her much more than his condescending behavior.
The right side of Granby’s mouth lifted slightly, amused. Which was impossible because Romy was sure he didn’t know how to smile.
“Your dress.” Beatrice’s gloved hands fluttered about her golden blonde head, clearly unsure of how to continue. “I’ve never seen you wear—that color before.”
“I had a bit of an accident, and my dress was ruined. Madame was kind enough to lend me something to wear home. I find it perfectly comfortable, if not fashionable.”
Beatrice’s eyes bugged slightly.
Granby’s gaze never left Romy, eyes shining like a bolt of ebony silk as he took in the hideous garment.
Romy very deliberately turned her back to him.
“Madame Dupree, if it isn’t too much trouble, I’d like to see the progress on my gown,” Beatrice said. “You should see it, Lady Andromeda. One of a kind, made especially for me.”
