Page 18 of The Duke of Kisses
Chapter 3
David hadn’t expected to see Fanny that evening, but he’d gone to two routs and a ball just in case he was wrong. He was not. He was, however, quite popular, as his rescue of the Duke of Clare’s sister-in-law was on everyone’s lips. As a result, he’d suffered far more conversation with strangers than he’d ever hoped to engage in. Thankfully, Anthony and Ware had accompanied him and had known precisely how to extricate them all from the situation.
At last, they were ensconced at a table in the corner at Brooks’s sipping brandy, and David was finally able to relax.
“This is grueling,” David said. “I don’t know how you keep up.” He was exhausted from making polite conversation and feigning interest. There was, perhaps, a reason he spent most of his time outdoors with little to no company.
Ware peered at him in curiosity. “You didn’t make it look difficult. In fact, you seem an accomplished flirt.”
David snorted before he took a drink of brandy, welcoming the smoky liquid tantalizing his tongue. “Flirting doesn’t take effort.”
For whatever reason, flirtation had always come naturally to him. It was an easy method of communication—flatter and amuse, then duck away. And in a few cases, take the flirtation to the next stage.
“True,” Ware said. Anthony nodded in agreement. “But are you more than that?” Ware waggled his brows at David.
Anthony chuckled. “He doesn’t strike me as a rake, Felix. Though he did look rather interested in Miss Snowden. He all but abandoned your racing meeting.”
“I saw that.” Ware sniffed in mock annoyance.
“If I have to choose between racing and women, I’ll choose women.” That hadn’t always been the case, but after his accident, he’d welcomed their distraction.
Anthony raised his glass. “Amen.” He took a drink, then narrowed his eyes briefly toward David. “You seem taken with Miss Snowden. First, you wanted to dance with her instead of my sister, then you went straight for her at the park.”
Was he? He was something, and he probably shouldn’t be.
Ware looked past David toward the door. “Oh hell, here comes Clare.”
David resisted the urge to turn. “He’s coming this way?”
“Yes, he looked around, saw us—likely, you—and is making his way in our direction.”
“We won’t abandon you,” Anthony said. “Clare’s an affable sort anyway. Did you know he was called the Duke of Desire?”
“I did not.” And why on earth would he?
The duke arrived at their table. He was an imposing figure with broad shoulders and ink-black hair. But then he smiled, and David glimpsed the “affable” man beneath the formidable exterior.
“Good evening. I’m Clare.” His voice was as dark and potentially dangerous as the rest of him. He glanced at the other gentlemen. “Ware, Mr. Colton.”
“Evening, Clare,” Anthony said.
“Care to join us?” Ware invited, gesturing to an empty chair next to David.
“I would, thank you.” The duke moved behind David and sat down.
David turned to him. “I’m St. Ives.”
“Yes. My sister-in-law’s daring rescuer. I wanted to thank you for your quick thinking.”
“How is she doing?” David asked, hoping he didn’t sound too eager.
“Very well, thank you. My wife also wishes to extend her gratitude.”
A footman stopped by the table, and the duke requested a glass of whatever they were drinking. Clare turned back to David. “You’re new to town?”
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry about your father. He went so quickly, or so I heard.”
