Page 29 of The Duke Who Loved Me (The Duke's Estates 1)

“Wouldn’t you rather talk to her?” James asked him.

“I have. I believe I just said so.”

“Surely you must have more to say. About the, er, pathetic sonata, was it?”

“You have very little knowledge of music, I see,” responded the prince.

“I prefer more…active pursuits.” James’s tone managed to imply that his interests were more manly.

“Beating other men with your fists?” Prince Karl’s voice suggested this was a barbarous practice.

“On occasion,” said James with a breath of threat.

The two tall, differently handsome men squared up in front of Cecelia, frowning, jaws clenched. James’s fists were clenched as well, as if he might actually hit something. Their rivalry was ridiculous, and…quite stimulating. She had to admit the latter, though it seemed a base impulse. But she couldn’t let them go on. “Lemonade,” said Cecelia. “I should like some lemonade.”

Prince Karl’s head swiveled in her direction. He came to attention, not quite clicking his heels, but seeming as if he had. “Of course. At once, Miss Vainsmede. Come with me.” He stuck out his arm.

James stepped forward to block him. “I was just about to escort Ce…Miss Vainsmede to the buffet.”

“Yet you did not,” replied the prince. “You allowed her to wait here, thirsty, while you postured and boasted.”

“Boasted!”

James lurched, bumping the prince’s shoulder in what could have seemed like an accident from a little distance. Prince Karl bared his teeth and jostled James in return. They actually strained against each other for a moment.

“Stop it,” said Cecelia. The snap in her voice seemed to recall them to some semblance of manners. “You are creating a spectacle!”

She walked away from their shocking—and, yes, all right, thrilling—display. As she moved toward her friends, she was conscious of whispers from the crowd and speculative glances. Cecelia had to admit that having two very attractive men vying for her attention was…interesting. She’d been a creditable success in society up to now, never lacking partners at a ball or moderate male approval. But she’d never inspired open contention like that. The tussle had been…outrageous, of course. Improper, offensive. Not to be repeated. Would they come after her? Did she want them to?

On the whole, no. Not just now. She wasn’t accustomed to mediating. There were women who kept strings of suitors vying with each other. She’d never been one of them.

She reached her friends and turned to glance back at the pugnacious gentlemen. Prince Karl had been snagged by their hostess. She obviously meant to make the most of her august guest. And James… Ha! He was about to be accosted by his grandmother, Lady Wilton. He wouldn’t like that.

“Tereford!”

James recognized the harsh voice before he turned. He tried not to grit his teeth as he faced the small, gnarled woman who’d spoken. “Grandmamma,” he replied. “I was just going—”

“You aregoingto talk to me.” Lady Wilton grasped his arm with surprising strength and practically hauled him to a sofa against the wall, small but quite irresistible. Her snow-white hair was adorned with feathers tonight, and she wore a rich gown of cerise silk. Her scowl was all too familiar. “You cannot ignore me here, as you have myseveralnotes.”

“I have been much occupied.”

“No, that is just what you havenotbeen! Nothing has been done at the town house, as far as I can learn, and you haven’t lifted a finger to find Ferrington.”

“Who?”

“The heir to the earldom. I wrote to you about it. And Miss Vainsmede must have given you my message.”

“I don’t believe she did.” James looked across the room. Cecelia had rejoined her four inconvenient friends, and they seemed to be having a lively conversation. Did he dare to hope that she was talking about him? Or would he rather she did not just now? She was even lovelier when animated. As for the fire he’d seen in her a few minutes ago—ravishing.

“More likely you forgot,” his grandmother accused.

“True.” Itwasmore likely, though he didn’t think that Cecelia had mentioned anyone called Ferrington.

His grandmother literally growled at him. “You are worse than Percival.”

James began to be a little amused. “Really, Grandmamma! I am not so bad as that. My great-uncle was touched in his upper works, I think.”

“Do not employ your ridiculous slang with me.”

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