Page 9 of The Wolf Duke's Wife
“Lady Christine!” came Lord Bingley’s voice from behind her.
Her heart jolted. Lord Bingley was framed by the arch at the far end of the hall, golden hair gleaming in the light from the ballroom beyond. But he was no longer the knight in shining armor—well, at least scuffed and serviceable armor—of her imagination. Now she saw the aloofness in his fixed smile, the wariness in his eyes.
And then it struck her. She was caught. Alone. With the Wolf.
“Lady Christine, will your string of scandals never cease? What brings you here unchaperoned in the company of this gentleman?”
Christine stood before him, wine still dripping from her gown, the fabric growing ever more sodden. She felt a fountain of anger begin to bubble up from within her. She opened her mouth but was silenced by the low, commanding voice from behind her.
“Bingley. You can leave. If you are so eager to guard reputations, perhaps begin with your own betrothed, the one flinging goblets as though she were at a tavern brawl. Pray, keep your house in order before I am forced to do it for you.”
Christine’s stomach twisted. The Wolf Duke loomed at her back, a dark counterpoint to Lord Bingley’s bright clothes and face. Lord Bingley’s smile faltered as he met the Wolf’s eyes.
“Your Grace,” he said formally, his brow furrowed in worry, though his tone feigned indifference, “Lady Christine’s reputation is no concern of mine. She’s barely an acquaintance.”
The Wolf Duke’s lips curved in a smile that did not reach his eyes. “Ah. An acquaintance. One who bathes in wine?”
“It should be perfectly obvious to you that this is the result of an accident,” Christine said with as much dignity as she could muster.
“It did not look accidental to me. Did I not tell you to go, Bingley?”
Bingley actually took several steps before realizing that he was meekly obeying. He scowled at the Duke. Christine lifted a finger to her lips, panic fluttering at her heart. Everything was falling apart.
Weak, pathetic man! I cannot possibly be asked to stay for the Hunt after this! Despite the dowager being my sister’s grandmother-in-law, she surely will not side with me when she hears the gossip Lord Bingley will spread about me.
She saw herself forced to return to Gillray House. Saw the gloating triumph in Lady Gillray’s eyes. What did the womanwant?Surely not simply to torture her, to make her life a misery out of sheer spite?
“I understand that our host,” the Duke began. “The dowager duchess takes pains to invite eligible men and women to these events, with married men and women invited to serve as either role models or cautionary tales. Which might you be?”
Lord Bingley glared at the Duke.
“This is no business of yours,” he said.
The Duke shrugged. “One finds diversion where one can.”
“I’m sure the Davidson girl will be delighted to be your diversion,” Lord Bingley said.
The Duke was silent for a moment and then turned to look searchingly at Christine.
“Davidson?” he asked.
Christine felt the familiar sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.
“Yes, of Southbria, Your Grace, which I’m sure was going to be your next question.”
“It was. I am familiar with your family.”
Whatever he was about to say next was drowned by a shrill cry.
“Christine Davidson! I know you are here with my betrothed. I saw you! Mark my word, Lady Gillray and every soul of the ton will hear of it!”
The Duke’s hand closed lightly around Christine’s wrist. Not possessive, not gentle either. Simply, inevitable.
“This way,” he commanded.
Christine lingered, hesitating as the reality of the moment settled upon her. No one could help her now.
Do I trust the wolf at my side, or face the hounds alone?
