Page 2 of Her Lion of a Duke
“Yes, well, see to it that you do not refuse them. This is your?—”
“Final chance, yes. I am aware.”
As if on cue, a gentleman appeared whom Cecilia recognized. She had met him the year before, a small slip of a man who had recently come into a vast fortune.
Strictly speaking, there was nothing wrong with him, but he did not hold her interest. He was too short, for a start, and with his small frame and gentle nature, he was not someone who could handle a lady with her temperament.
It was true that she did not wish to be oppressed by her husband, but that did not mean she wished to be agreed with all the time.
“Good evening, Miss Punton. My, you look lovely.”
“Thank you, Lord Pember.” It was as short a response as she could manage.
“Would you care to dance?”
“It would appear that the first dance is already underway. It would be improper to join now.”
She felt her aunt’s hand nudge into her arm.
“The next one, then?” he offered.
“Oh, very well then. Yes.”
With a slightly too-toothy smile, he left her standing there. Her pulse quickened, knowing that he would return once the music died down.
“What on earth are you doing?” her aunt demanded in a hushed tone. “Lord Pember is a perfectly reasonable match.”
“Aunt Margaret, I understand my situation, but it is the beginning of the Season. I do not need to choose the first man who sets his cap for me.”
“The first and only, I shall remind you.”
“I would not say that,” a deeper voice suddenly said.
Cecilia could not help but smile slightly.
The Duke of Pridefield was not the sort of man that Cecilia would have ever expected to befriend, and yet she had. It had been a few years ago, during a party he had hosted, when shecame to know him as Leonard Kingsman, and though she never would have dared to admit it, she had grown to respect him.
“Oh!” Aunt Margaret gasped. “Good evening, Your Grace. Do forgive me, I was simply?—”
“Telling your niece what she ought to hear, I believe,” he joked, winking at Cecilia. “Sadly, you will have to find an excuse for that poor young man. I require a word with her, and I do not know that we will return before the next dance.”
Cecilia raised an eyebrow at him, but he was no longer looking at her. Instead, he was looking at her aunt, knowing perfectly well that she could not—nor would she ever—refuse the request of a duke, especially not one as powerful as him.
“Well, I suppose I can tell him that she had taken a walk in the gardens with some other ladies.”
“We shall not be long, Aunt Margaret,” Cecilia promised. “And if it helps at all, I shall dance with Lord Pember upon my return if he is not already on the dance floor with another young lady.”
Her aunt narrowed her eyes at her slightly, but there was no arguing to be done. Nobody argued with the Duke of Pridefield. Except, of course, Cecilia.
They took a turn about the room, soon finding Beatrice with her family. She looked lovely, and Cecilia wondered why she was not dancing but was pleased to see her alone all the same.
They made their introductions, Cecilia noting the uneasy looks she received from Beatrice’s parents. She was not considered a good influence on her friend—even she had to admit that—but Beatrice’s parents had never stopped them from seeing one another.
It had been quite a gift, given that Cecilia had been watching her friends marry and leave her behind.
“We were wondering if you might like to walk with us?” Cecilia asked.
At once, Beatrice’s parents ushered her toward the Duke.
