Page 33 of The Duke's Indecent Match
“Oh… ah, no.I enjoy looking at art, but it is not one of my skills.”She smiled, knowing that British young ladies were encouraged to find some kind of pastime with which to impress gentlemen—embroidery, painting, a musical instrument… All of which she had failed at dismally.
Eventually, her father had reassured her that no gentleman actually cared about such things, anyway.She did have a deep appreciation for the results, as she knew firsthand how difficult they were, and the skills of others never failed to impress her.
Bolton smiled, though it did not quite reach his eyes.She was not sure she would say he was a cold man, but he was certainly not as warm as his sister.He was far more stiffly upright than Christian, yet she did not sense any censure from him over her admission.
“I only wondered because that is often how artists describe such views.I know Lady Astrid has painted the ruins many times, in different seasons, during different times of the day.”
“I did not realize.”Kalina blinked, leaning forward to peer down the table at Lady Astrid, who appeared to be gripping her fork very tightly while glaring at her betrothed.The Duke of Ormonde had turned up just before the gong for supper, much to his fiancée’s displeasure.“She has never mentioned it.”
“I do not think she talks about it very much.I only know because Drake has one of the paintings in his library, and I asked who the artist was.”Bolton did not seem to find it odd that the Duke of Ormonde, who seemed as enthused about marrying Lady Astrid as she was about marrying him, had a painting by her in his library.Perhaps it was not odd.All the dukes seemed to accept the pair’s attitudes toward each other as a matter of course, accepting all of their quirks of behavior.
Kalina found it odd, but perhaps she just did not understand the English.
It was one of those little things that reminded her, no matter how her father had tried to prepare her, that she was still on the outside.
As if thinking of him caught his attention, her father looked down the table and met her gaze.She smiled at him before turning back to the Duke of Bolton, but she could still feel his eyes on her, studying her.What he was thinking, she could not tell from his expression.She hoped he knew that she would do whatever it took to find herself a ducal husband and help him win back his family.
Nathanial
Bloody hell.
Christian might still very well offer for Miss Little.Despite what he’d said.His interest was clear, despite what he’d said.What had they been talking about when their heads had been bent so closely together, close enough that no one else would be able to overhear?
Then there was Sebastian on her other side.Also talking with her.Smiling at her.Ever since he’d had to banish his mother to the countryside, he’d been rather dour.Nathanial still did not know all the details, only that it had something to do with Tiffany and Gregory and their marriage, which he did not entirely understand, but it was not his business, either.Sebastian had always been a serious sort, but even more so in recent days.
If Christian did not offer for her, Sebastian might.
What was it about her that engaged the interest of so many dukes?
By the time the ladies quit for the drawing room, leaving the men to their cigars and brandy, Nathanial had already drunk twice as much wine as he usually did.Not that he turned down the brandy.The idea of Christian or Sebastian offering for Miss Little…
Bloody hell, he hoped Lady Hu was able to find him a wife soon.Surely, his preoccupation with Miss Little would disperse once he found therightwoman to be his bride.
He quaffed his brandy.
And then again.
“Nathanial, are you all right?”Gregory frowned at him as Nathanial stood, wavering slightly on his feet.
“I… I think I need some air.”Joining the others in the drawing room, watching Christian and possibly Sebastian vie for Miss Little’s attention was more than he could take right now.Especially after making it very clear to Mei that Miss Little was not a prospect for his bride.Had he told her not to allow Miss Little to marry any of the others, either?
His head swam.He could not remember.
“I will go to the library.I need to sit in the quiet.”Raising his hand to his head, which was throbbing, he did not need to try very hard to pretend he was too done in to listen to female nattering.Aware that his friends were staring at him, he waved his hand.“You all go on; I just need some space.”
Truthfully, he should go back to his room, but in his current state, he was uncertain he would be able to make it up the stairs without help.And he was not going to admit he needed that help.
It was his own damn fault he’d gotten into this state.Once he was more clear-headed, he’d make his way up to bed and start again tomorrow.Thankfully, the others did not argue with him, and they parted at the doorway.They followed the older gentlemen toward the drawing room, while Nathanial waited until their backs were turned and stumbled down the hall to the library.
Loosening his cravat, he took a long, slow breath as he managed to get into the room without falling flat on his face.The air was a little cooler in the huge space, which made things easier.He shucked off his jacket, with some difficulty, cursing the current trend of tight-fitting fabric that made having help from his valet almost a necessity.
Only then did he fall into one of the high wing-backed chairs, slumping back against the soft velvet cushions and panting for breath from the exertion.The lamp beside him flickered, the warmth from its flame not quite reaching him.His head was truly spinning around.Closing his eyes, he groaned and let his head fall back against the back of the chair, cursing himself.
Nathanial never drank to excess.It reminded him too much of his father.But here he was, a drunken sot, and all because of Miss Little.Blasted hell.Maybe he should hope that one of his friends offered for her.That would make her off limits.Perhaps that would help end his distraction.Even though he would have to watch her wed someone else.
Reaching up, he rubbed his jaw, feeling the tightness.He was gritting his teeth together for some reason.
Would it be so bad to marry Miss Little?
