Page 20 of Defending the Duke (The St. Clairs 4)

Catherine looked to Laurel and she nodded that she was in agreement with the arrangement.

“We would be happy to do so, my lord.”

“Then I will call for you at a quarter past three.” Aubrey bowed and left them.

Jeremy had a disgruntled look on his face. “I’m already having to beat off suitors, I see.”

“Do you not approve of Lord Aubrey?” Laurel asked.

“We were close growing up. Then he thought to steal my duchess.” He slipped an arm about his wife’s waist. “Fortunately, she had the good sense to know I was the only man for her.”

“Everything is fine, Laurel,” Catherine assured her. “Lord Aubrey merely likes to tease Jeremy about it every now and then.” She turned to her husband. “Go and dance with your sister now, Duke. I’ll be waiting right here for you.”

Laurel’s eyes went wide, seeing the heat flare in Jeremy’s eyes as he looked at his wife.

“You better be, Duchess.”

He led Laurel back to the middle of the floor. “You did very well with your first dance. Aubrey is a good man. Don’t give our little rivalry a second thought.”

They danced without conversation. Jeremy had been the best of her practice partners, gliding with smooth grace. Rachel had shared that he never danced with anyone but Catherine and that by partnering with her at the opening ball of the Season, he was declaring to all Polite Society his approval—and acceptance—of her.

After their dance, she had a variety of partners and finally found a moment to slip away to the retiring room. Lady Hannah was leaving as she approached, her cheeks flushed.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” Laurel asked.

“Very much so. I never knew I could have such fun. When are you dancing with Anthony?”

She realized that Anthony was the Duke of Linfield. “Soon. For the supper dance.”

They parted ways and she went inside. A bevy of women filled the room, gossiping and primping their hair. Laurel stepped behind one of the vacant screens to relieve herself, thankful for a brief moment alone. Then she heard her name.

“She’s called Laurel. What kind of name is that?”

“You know those St. Clairs. They say and do whatever they want.”

“She’s not really one of them, though, is she? The Duke of Everton can foist her onto Polite Society and call herLadyLaurel—but those of quality know exactly what she is.”

A sinking feeling came over her. She reminded herself that she’d been warned of gossip and not to listen to it.

She came out from behind the screen and washed her hands. A servant handed her a towel. She followed the two older women that she suspected had been speaking about her, wondering if she should ignore them—or confront them.

The pair paused and the taller one said, “I can’t believe Aubrey thought to partner with her. And for the first dance of the evening! He must not have heard about her being a by-blow. I’m surprised the Rutherfords even invited her.”

“She’s got the St. Clair looks, though,” her companion noted. “Aubrey has a thing for pretty girls. Even if they are baseborn. I heard she was a shop girl or something of that nature.”

“I’m sure her morals are as loose as her mother’s were. The poor woman thought she could land a duke. If this chit thinks she will find a gentleman to wed, she’s sadly mistaken. Even if Everton supports her. When no gentleman offers for her, I’m sure Everton will scuttle her back to the country. No one of good standing in London will want her.”

Laurel’s anger had grown as she’d eavesdropped and she now cleared her throat. The two women turned, both their mouths forming perfectO’sas they saw the object of their conversation standing before them.

“My mother was a better woman than either of you could ever dream of being,” she said, her voice low but distinct. “Shewas a true lady and would never have disparaged someone with such ugly words as you have used. You may be dressed in your finery and jewels but you will never be a true lady as she was.”

Before either of them could reply, someone took her arm.

“There you are, Lady Laurel. It’s time for our dance.”

The Duke of Linfield led her away.

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