Page 51 of The Duelist for the Ton
Fear flared in her eyes, but before he could ask what frightened her, Foxton approached with the woman in the scarlet dress he’d noticed earlier. As she saw Stephen, a look of hunger flickered in her eyes. She lowered her gaze to his feet, then raised it slowly, settling on his groin for a heartbeat—then she licked her lips and resumed her attention on her companion.
Most men would call her beautiful, but her beauty was the kind that women used to shatter men’s hearts and empty their purses. Foxton was welcome to her.
“Thereyou are, sister,” the duke said, patting the woman’s arm with a gesture of possessiveness. “I was beginning to wonder where you’d got to.”
“Well, I’m here now,” Lady Portia said, an edge to her voice.
“You shouldn’t wander off. As a lady, you must be mindful of your reputation at all times.”
“I’d have thought the reputation of aladywould be the last thing on your mind at the present moment.” She cast her gaze over Foxton’s companion. “Miss Scarlet, is it not?”
“Mrs.,” came the reply, accompanied by a sneer.
“Where did you go, Portia?” Foxton asked, his gaze wandering over Stephen, as if he were searching for evidence of transgression.
Stephen’s gut twisted with shame. Would Lady Portia reveal his weakness, that he’d been on the brink of madness and she’d spirited him away from the party to conceal it? What would the party think of being in the presence of a witless fool?
“We went searching for ices for everyone,” she said. “We were all getting a little hot. I asked the colonel to help me carry them.”
Her voice carried not even the slightest flicker of guilt at her deception. How was it that some individuals could utter a such a bald falsehood without the slightest impact on their conscience?
Foxton lowered his gaze to her hand on Stephen’s arm. “I see,” he said.
“Isn’t that right, colonel?” she said, turning her attention to Stephen.
Was it not enough that she could lie to her brother so convincingly that she wanted Stephen as an accomplice? No matter how she’d come to his aid earlier, nobody had the right to compel him into deception.
Foxton’s expression hardened, and Lady Portia fixed her gaze on Stephen, awaiting his response. He remained silent, and she withdrew her hand, her brow furrowed.
“Did you not say you wanted ices, Eleanor?” she asked, and Stephen caught the plea in her eyes.
The duchess tilted her head to one side as if in concentration, then she nodded. “Monty saw ices being sold earlier. Didn’t you, my love?”
“I beg pardon?” Whitcombe said, turning his attention from a group of jugglers across the path.
“Ices,” the duchess said. “Wasn’t there a man selling them near the main entrance?”
“Not that I know of, my love,” came the reply, “but I believe the proprietor of Gunter’s is here tonight. I saw a sign beside the pavilion—near the fire-breathers, I think. Perhaps they’re selling ices there. But surely you don’t want an ice, Eleanor—you’re still recovering from that cold you took when we went sea bathing. Dr. McIver said you were to take care.”
“If I recall, Dr. McIver said I should take plenty of fresh air, Monty.”
“Fresh air, perhaps, but notices. Who the devil eats ices out of doors in the evening?”
“Our entire party, apparently,” Foxton said, fixing his cold stare on his sister.
“Well,Iwant one, at least,” Lady Portia said.
“As do I,” the duchess added. “Their brown bread ices are delicious.”
“Brown bread?” Foxton said with a sneer. “Who the devil would want to eat an ice that tastes likebread?”
“Perhaps someone with a discerning palate, Foxton,” Stephen said, catching the distress in Eleanor’s eyes. “I’ve tasted the brown bread ice cream myself and recommend it.”
“Do you like ices, Mrs. Scarlet?” the duchess asked.
The brightly attired peacock on Foxton’s arm turned her sharp-nosed gaze on the duchess, looked her up and down, then shook her head.
“I must beg to be excused from a discussion of ices, Your Grace,” she said. “The consumption of an abundance of desserts is not a recommended practice for a woman who wishes to retain her figure. And I always find that an overly”—she lowered her gaze to the duchess’s neckline—“healthyfigure is considered unattractive in some circles, for it is evidence of a lack of self-discipline and self-restraint, not to mention the expense of always having to have ones clothes altered.”
