Page 40 of The Duke of Ruin
“I’m sorry, I don’t recall your name?” Simon said genially. He wasn’t even going totryto convince them he wasn’t the duke?
“Sir Fletcher Dunford-Whaley, and this is Lady Dunford-Whaley.”
“I’d no idea any of the other guests were Quality,” the woman said in her high-pitched tone of superiority. “If I had, I wouldn’t have felt the need to keep ourselves apart.”
“We didn’thaveto do that, dear,” the baronet said in a quieter tone.
Lady Dunford-Whaley sniffed. “Of course we did. And actually, I’m not certain knowing HisGracewas here would have changed my mind.” She lowered her tone to say the last, but Diana still heard what she said and the way in which she said it. Irritation curled along her spine, and she gritted her teeth lest she deliver the woman a well-deserved set-down and reveal herself. She couldn’t do that.
“Care to introduce your, ah, lady friend?” Sir Fletcher asked.
“We can’t ask to meet the Duke’s paramour,” his wife said, again using a tone that was probably meant to be a whisper but wasn’t.
Simon sidled close to Diana once more, his side against her back. He leaned in and spoke softly against her ear. “Let them think you’re my mistress. I’ll distract them while you start toward the stairs.”
She nodded slightly, then waited for him to step away once more.
“As I said before, we were about to retire,” Simon said evenly. “Please excuse us.”
It was at that moment that Diana made a fateful error. She took a step toward the stairs but must have turned too much or in just the right way for the light from the fire to splash across her features.
Lady Dunford-Whaley’s indrawn breath struck fear deep into Diana’s heart.
“My goodness, it’s Miss Kingman! Fletcher, this is that young woman I told you about—the one who was engaged to the Duke of Ice, the Duke ofKilve. But he left London, and then she did too. Rumors abound at what happened.” She had the audacity to step toward Diana. “I would be the envy of everyone if you could just tell me—”
“You can’t think to be so rude,” Simon said coldly. If Diana hadn’t already been struck with abject terror, his tone would have made her shiver.
As Diana crept slowly toward the stairs, she saw Sir Fletcher pull his wife to his side. He kept his voice low, but Diana was able to hear what he said, “He is aduke.”
“The Duke ofRuin!” Again, she used her not-whisper, her voice seething. “He’s Kilve’s closest friend. Can you imagine? Did he steal his friend’s fiancée? When people hear—”
Diana couldn’t stand another moment. Without care, she picked up her skirts and ran upstairs.
Yes, he was the Duke of Ruin. And now she was ruined too.
Bloody fucking hell.
This couldn’t be worse if a playwright had penned it for maximum drama. He bit his tongue lest he use it to lash at the sniping bitch before him. On second thought, what did he care? She more than deserved it.
“Women like you are a menace,” Simon spat. He looked at her husband, who’d gone pale. “My apologies, but I can’t abide gossip, especially when it causes pain.”
Lady Dunford-Whaley sniffed as she pushed back her shoulders. “I’m not the one running off with my best friend’s fiancée. If she suffers pain, it’s her own doing. And yours.”
Simon advanced on her, baring his teeth in his rage. “You’ve no idea what she suffers or what’s her doing or not. You’re a presumptuous, self-important termagant with no business in polite Society.”
Her eyes widened, and she gasped. “You can’t speak to me that way.”
“Actually, I don’t need to speak to you at all. As your husband so aptly pointed out—I’m a duke.” He pitched forward with a sneer. “Regardlessof my reputation.”
Her lips opened and closed, but she said nothing.
“Go upstairs, dear,” the baronet said quietly, but with a steel that brooked no argument.
She snapped her gaze to his and pursed her lips before stamping toward the staircase. Simon watched her go but felt no relief.
“I’m terribly sorry,” Lord Dunford-Whaley said. “My wife does like her gossip.”
“This isn’t gossip,” Simon said.
