Page 52 of The Duelist for the Ton
“Is it not better to enjoy life rather than deprive oneself of pleasure?” the duchess said.
“Of course, Your Grace,” the courtesan replied, her smile broadening to reveal gleaming white teeth. “There are few among my acquaintance who understand the nature of pleasure as I do. But some things can be enjoyed a little too much. And, after all, as women, we have a responsibility to maintain our appearance to give pleasure to others. Is that not right, Foxton, darling?”
The duke nodded. “Quite right, Mrs. Scarlet. As insightful as ever.”
“Very well,” Stephen said, “with the exception of Mrs. Scarlet, who chooses not to have one, shall Lady Portia and I bring ices for everyone who deserves one?”
“None for my brother, then,” Lady Portia said. “You wouldn’t want to disappoint Mrs. Scarlet, would you? Or is it only members of the female sex who must deprive themselves of treats in order to keep a man’s attentions?”
“Do forgive my sister, Mrs. Scarlet,” Foxton said. “Perhaps we ought to take a turn about the garden.”
The courtesan nodded in the manner of a queen acknowledging a humble subject, then he steered her away.
“One ice each for my wife and me,” Whitcombe said, taking the duchess’s hand and lifting it to his lips. “I, for one, find much to admire in a woman who takes pleasure in devouring brown bread ice cream, especially when it’s smeared over—”
“Monty!” The duchess let out a squeal, her face turning bright pink as Whitcombe pulled her into his arms.
Stephen’s heart fluttered with envy. Was there ever a couple so much in love? Plenty of husbands and wives gave the appearance of happiness—or at least satisfaction—yet took no genuine pleasure in each other’s company. Foxton and his mistress, for example, seemed very pleased with themselves, but there was little to no joy in the duke’s eyes.
Perhaps Lady Portia could be forgiven for wanting to deceive her brother. To have one’s entire life dictated by such a man was not a state to be envied.
As they approached the pavilion, Stephen spotted a sign erected at the far end of the façade depicting a pineapple placed atop a vase, bearing the legendJ Gunter, ices.
“There they are,” he said. “Whitcombe spoke the truth.”
“Good for Whitcombe,” Lady Portia said.
She began to withdraw her arm, and Stephen caught her hand.
“Forgive me,” he said. “I-I ought to have helped you back then with your brother, but I cannot bear any form of deception.”
“Then you won’t survive long in London Society. In any case, I was only trying—”
“To help me, I know. And for that I’m grateful, believe me. But I abhor any form of dishonesty, and I cannot bear the notion of your having a trait I dislike when I admire you so much.”
“If you think to ingratiate yourself by flattery, colonel, I—”
She let out a gasp as he pulled her close.
“Can’t you see it’s not mere flattery, Lady Portia?” he said. “I’m a soldier. I have no time for deception or the petty niceties of drawing room conversation. I see little merit in speaking anything but the truth, and if I cannot speak the truth, then I have no wish to speak at all. I do not flatter you because you’re beautiful. I admire you because, more than anyone of my acquaintance, youseeme. I-I cannot fathom how you understood what I needed when I…” He paused, the memory of the battlefield threatening to rise once more.
Then slim fingers curled around his hand and a thrill rippled across his skin.
“Stephen, look at me.”
He met her gaze, letting the cool blue of her eyes fill his senses and soothe his soul, until the image of the battlefield faded. The anger in her expression had gone, replaced by compassion and understanding and a tiny spark that swelled his hope.
A spark of desire to match his own.
He drew in a sharp breath to temper the surge in his manhood.
“I must apologize also for my sister, Lady Portia.”
“Angela? For what?”
“She was most uncivil toward you earlier. I fear her naiveté makes her prone to flattery.”
“The kind that men such as Heath Moss employ to entrap the innocent?” She smiled. “It matters not. She has a big brother to keep her safe from harm. She’s young and spirited, that’s all—as we all were at that age. I love the freeness in her soul, her enthusiasm for life.”
