Page 77 of The Duke Who Loved Me (The Duke's Estates 1)

“From the…contretemps with Prince Karl,” the woman added, mockery in her gaze.

For a moment James couldn’t think what she meant. His concern for Cecelia had pushed that regrettable episode out of his mind. The sword bout, which had felt like such a deep humiliation, hardly seemed to matter anymore. Though he could wish that he’d punched the fellow much harder. But apparently the incident was still fresh to others. He’d fed the fires of gossip with his flight, and now these ladies were waiting for his response like carrion birds hanging over a carcass. They would spread their gleaned tidbits throughout theton. Best to dispose of this matter at once. “Contre…?” he mused. “Ah, I had forgotten.” He tried to sound as if she’d mentioned some silly, rather stupid matter. From the look on her face, he’d succeeded.

“The prince has made quite animpressionin society,” said one of the old ladies.

She was referring to Cecelia now, James had no doubt. It was a pity that one couldn’t simply tell people they were idiots. It would save a great deal of time. Except that they wouldn’t listen. And they would take it as a twisted sort of corroboration. “Has he?” James replied in a bored tone. “People seem to enjoy every sort of ridiculous spectacle.”

The old lady bridled. “Some appear to beenjoyingmore than others,” said her companion sourly.

He could not shake a septuagenarian with the bones of a bird, or simply order her out of the house. Declaring that he had private business to discuss with his grandmother would merely draw attention. James settled for a blank, world-weary look, as if he couldn’t imagine why she was speaking to him about something so tedious.

“Do you call the prince ridiculous?” asked the matron.

The callers bent closer. Again James imagined beaks poised to snatch up gobbets of well-aged scandal. “Of course not,” he said.

They waited. He added nothing.

“Have you heard whether Lady Goring is recovering from her illness?” asked Lady Wilton.

It was her drawing room. Visitors could not demand a return to the previous subject. They responded. James remained silent, offering them no more nuggets to share. Finally, after what seemed an eternity of maddening chatter, the callers departed.

Lady Wilton waited until they were well away before saying, “You did well on the matter of your unfortunate sword fight.”

James brushed this aside. “I don’t care about that.”

His grandmother examined him. “Do you not?”

“No. I’ve come to talk about Miss Vainsmede and Prince Karl, though their names shouldnotbe linked.”

She nodded. “Go and tell the footman that I am not receiving any longer.”

James did so. When he returned, his grandmother eyed him. “Where have you been?”

“That doesn’t matter.”

“Perhaps not, now that you are back again. But I am curious. And since I suspect that you want my help, you must indulge me.”

Refusing to grind his teeth, James said, “At the town house, clearing up.”

“I sent a servant to look for you there,” she said.

“Well, the next time you want a thing found, you should send someone else.”

“Hah.” She sat back and gazed at him. “It seems you have heard about the rumors Prince Karl is spreading.”

“The man is scum,” James said from between clenched teeth.

“One would expect a royal personage to be more of a gentleman. But then look at our own English princes.”

James snorted. “He must be stopped.”

“How do you intend to do that? Not more swordplay. I hope?”

“It’s well known that you are a mistress of sarcasm, Grandmamma. You needn’t demonstrate your skills on me.”

“I am rather annoyed with you, James.”

He ignored this. She was so often annoyed. “I have formed a plan.” It had come to him as he endured the callers. “I shall escort you and Ce…Miss Vainsmede to a play first of all.”

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