Page 15 of The Duke's Accidental Wallflower
Minerva waved off her friends’ comments, though a small smile tugged at her lips. “For now,” she said, picking up the quill once more, “I will focus on the garden party. At my age, I have learned well enough that I will receive an offer based on my practicality and good sense, rather than flirtatious charm and unreproachable beauty.
“Oh, come now, Minerva, you are hardly a spinster, and are quite handsome,” Cherie said with a dramatic sigh, tossing a cushion onto the settee beside her. “Surely you cannot expect to spend your life buried in invitations and party plans. Even you, with all your practicality and good sense, deserve a dashing suitor to sweep you off your feet.”
Samantha smirked, glancing up from her sketch. “Perhaps she’s already found one and is simply too modest to admit it.”
“Nonsense,” Minerva said, rolling her eyes as she set down her quill. “Unlike some, I do not allow a handsome face to turn my head.”
Cherie gasped in mock indignation, pressing a hand to her chest. “Are you implying that I am shallow, Minerva?”
Minerva gave her a pointed look. “Not implying. Stating.”
Samantha chuckled softly, returning her attention to her sketch. “At least she’s honest.”
Cherie and Samantha exchanged knowing glances, but they wisely chose not to push further. The sun had dipped lower in the sky, casting a golden light over the room as they settled into a comfortable silence.
“So,” Samantha said, her fingers trailing over the pages of her sketchpad, “I have been helping my mother with the annual art gallery exhibit. I assume you both will be coming to the opening. There are a few pieces I think you will absolutely love.”
Minerva’s eyes lit up at the mention of Samantha’s mother’s work. “Of course, we will be there. I am looking forward to it.”
Cherie nodded, brushing a curl behind her ear. “I would love to. You know I am always fascinated by your mother’s art.”
Samantha grinned. “Good, because she has been working on something truly special for this exhibit.”
Minerva smiled warmly. “It will be a nice distraction from all the planning. Perhaps we will even find inspiration for next year’s party.”
Samantha’s grin turned playful. “And who knows? Maybe you will finally stop playing matchmaker and find an eligible bachelor for yourself at the art exhibit.”
Minerva groaned in mock exasperation, tossing a cushion back at her. “Not likely. Now, stop trying to distract me, and help me finish these invitations!”
The room erupted into laughter once again, the air filled with the sound of playful banter and friendship. For now, the focus remained on each other, leaving the world of eligible bachelors and matchmaking for another day.
No matter how much Minerva tried to focus on the details—the floral arrangements, the guest list, the seating plan—her mind kept wandering.
It was infuriating. Their last encounter, the way he had smiled at her with that infuriating, arrogant charm, gnawed at her. She could still feel the heat rising to her cheeks, the way her heart had raced when he’d gotten too close.Why did he affect her like that?Minerva shook her head, trying to clear the thought.
“Minerva, dear, you have put Lord Stoppard’s name underbothLady Whitley and Lady Fenwick,” Cherie pointed out, her tone light but tinged with concern as she glanced over the seating chart.
Minerva blinked, looking down at the chart in front of her, realizing she had indeed made the mistake. Again. That was the third error she had made today alone.
“Sorry,” Minerva muttered, reaching for the quill to fix it.
Her friends exchanged glances, and Cherie set down the chart with a sigh. “Alright, that is it. Something isclearlyamiss with you.”
“I am fine,” Minerva insisted, though her voice lacked conviction. She returned to her task, avoiding their gazes. “I am just tired, that is all.”
Samantha, who had been watching her quietly from her seat, suddenly sat up straight, her eyes widening as if a revelation had just struck her. “Wait… is this about aman?” she asked, her voice full of curiosity.
Minerva’s hand froze mid-quill stroke, but she quickly recovered, waving off the suggestion. “No, of course not. Do not be absurd.”
But the flicker of hesitation in her voice did not go unnoticed.
Cherie leaned forward, her eyes narrowing suspiciously. “Itisa man, isn’t it?”
Minerva huffed, turning her back to them as she gathered the scattered invitations. “There is no man. Can we please return to the party planning?”
“Oh, no,” Samantha said, grinning as she exchanged a look with Cherie. “You arenotevading us this easily. Who is the gentleman?”
“There isnoman!” Minerva insisted, but the more she denied it, the less convincing she sounded. Her cheeks had flushed, betraying her.
