Page 59 of The Duke Meets His Match

She nodded her consent, the footman swung the doors open, and she stepped outside. George followed. Surprisingly, while a few heads turned in their direction, the world didn’t come crashing to an end. At least not yet.

She opened her parasol, and together they crossed the lawn to greet their host.

“Ah, Aylesham,” the Prince Regent said. “Glad you could make it to ourlittle party. Prince Ernst, Princess Augusta, Princess Sophia, allow us to introduce the gentleman we were telling you about earlier, George Kendall, the Duke ofAylesham. Aylesham, we are pleased to have you meet His Royal Highness PrinceErnst Leopold of Schönberg-Nusse and his wife, Princess Eugenia Augusta, andtheir daughter, Princess Sophia Augusta.” The Prince Regent ignored Susan’spresence altogether, making his intentions perfectly clear.

Everyone made their perfect bows and curtsies and followed the PrinceRegent’s lead while Susan stood uncomfortably at George’s side. Lady Walmsley’sinstructions on the protocols of conversing with royalty coursed through herhead:One does not take the liberty of introducing oneself to those of higher rank; one is invited to do so.It was one of the cardinal rules. George could not introduce her without some sort of overture from the royals that would allow it.

But George had told her he wanted the harpy at his side—no,his Athena. His goddess of battle strategies, among other things.

Athena would not be invisible, nor would George’s future duchess.

Susan straightened her spine once again, lifted her chin, and smiled asthough she possessed all that lay before her. Prince Ernst, despite himself, looked directly at her with a questioning expression on his face. It was all the opening they needed.

George cleared his throat. “Your Royal Highnesses, allow me to present the Honorable Miss Susan Jennings, daughter of the Viscount Thurlby of Lincolnshire. She is my bet—”

“Miss Jennings,” Prinny said with the slightest of nods, interrupting George before he could finish uttering the wordbetrothed. “Aylesham, Princess Sophia has expressed an interest in viewing the garden and learning more about the sights of London. Perhaps you would be so kind as to show her and provide some insights.”

Susan could see George’s jaw go rigid. She needed to do something. “What alovelyidea, Aylesham,” she said. “After such long travels, I’m sure Princess Sophia would enjoy stretching her legs and having a chance to mingle with the other guests.”

“Certainly,my dear,” George said, surprising Susan with the endearment, although it would serve to make their relationship obvious to the others. “Shall we?” he said to the princess, offering his arm to her.

“How kind of you,” she said and placed her arm on George’s sleeve. Susanwatched as they walked away together. Princess Sophia was tall and exoticallybeautiful, Susan thought begrudgingly, with auburn hair and a creamy complexionand large, blue eyes that tilted upward and added to her allure.

“Prince Ernst, Princess Eugenia, we believe we see Lord Alvanley engaging in some lighthearted banter. Let us go see what is so amusing.” The Prince Regent gestured toward the gentleman, who must be Lord Alvanley, and then led the others in that direction, ignoring Susan and leaving her entirely alone.

George and the princess were nowhere to be seen.

Susan wracked her brain, trying to remember if Lady Walmsley had instructedher on what to do when one had been introduced to virtually no one and had no acquaintance at hand who could perform the introductions. She would be seen as having no manners whatsoever were she to walk up to total strangers, especiallyones of higher rank than she, and brashly introduce herself. She doubted evenAthena would do that if she found herself amongst thebeau mondehere at CarltonHouse.

Unsure what to do with herself, she shifted her parasol slightly to conceal her face a bit, her bravado having taken a bruising after the Prince Regent’s cut direct, and began to make her way through the various clusters of guests in the hope of finding a discreet spot where she could be alone until George returned with Princess Sophia.

The utterly breathtaking Princess Sophia.

Susan shook her head, mentally chiding herself. It would do her no good to allow herself such thoughts at present. Additionally, she told herself, it wouldn’t do her or George any good if she were to make herself too scarce. There was a difference between being discreet and being cowardly.

Once again, she straightened her spine and—

“It appears I have stumbled upon a fair lady who is on her own,” a male voice said behind her. “We cannot allow that, now, can we?”

Susan froze. It was a voice she knew only too well, even if it had been eight years since she’d last heard it. Albert Sutton, the Earl of Frome—and the one person in all of England she’d hoped never to see again.

Thankfully, Susan’s parasol had been concealing most of her face from Lord Frome, so she had the briefest of moments to collect her wits before facing him, but there could be no avoiding the situation. She turned fully toward him now. “Lord Frome,” she said and then watched as his face paled.

“Miss Jennings,” he said. Susan doubted he had ever expected to see her again either, if the look on his face was anything to go by. He recovered his composure quickly. “Such a pleasure to see you again after so many years,” he said in a congenial tone Susan didn’t believe for a moment. “Would you care to take a stroll with me? The flowers just over there are at their most beautiful. I believe you would enjoy seeing them.”

“I will, thank you,” she replied.

He bowed in acknowledgment and then offered Susan his arm. She ignored him and clasped her parasol with both hands.

His feigned agreeable demeanor vanished. “Ah, I see how it is,” he said as theystrolled toward the flowers in question. “You haven’t changed a bit, have you?”

“Nor have you,” she replied. “How is your wife, by the way?”

“I wouldn’t know,” he said. “She prefers the country, and I prefer her in the country. We are very much in agreement in that regard.” The Earl of Frome had always been a handsome man—tall, his dark hair closely cropped, his features fine—and he still was, but he was beginning to show the effects of his dissolute ways. His hair was graying at the temples, and lines were forming near his eyes and bracketing his mouth. He caught her studying his face. “Are you impressed to see your former suitor associating with such esteemed company or gloating to yourself that he has fallen in your expectations?” he asked.

“Neither,” Susan replied. “I feel sorry for your wife.”

“The wifeyouchose not to be,” he said. He stepped closer to her until they were face-to-face. “We loved each other, you and I,” he said in a low voice, his face near hers again after so many years, the essence of his familiar cologne filling her thoughts with memories long past. “You said the words to me as I did you. I bared my soul to you and asked for your hand—but you refused me. Tsk-tsk.” He placed a hand over his heart as though it had broken anew. “All because of a few minor indulgences,” he added.

---