Page 32 of The Duke Who Loved Me (The Duke's Estates 1)

James ignored it. “I have concluded I need allies,” he said. “Your support I take for granted, of course.”

“Of course you do,” replied Henry.

“Why do you use that phrase so slyly? Cec…Miss Vainsmede does the same.”

“As if it was a truth universally acknowledged?” Henry’s dark eyes laughed at him.

James began to feel insulted. If they meant to imply that he was some silly, transparent creature, they were wrong.

“I beg your pardon,” said Henry. “Pay no attention. You were speaking of allies.”

“I was.” He was half-minded to drop the subject. But it was important to his cause. “I wish to enlist your sister and her friends on my side. By subtle means.”

Henry burst out laughing. “You are never subtle, James.”

“I am perfectly capable of—”

“Beating a point into submission,” interrupted Henry through his laughter. “Flattening with a sneer.”

“Happy to be such a source of such amusement,” said James, feeling wounded by Henry’s mockery. “I had thought you might wish to help me, as a friend.”

“Are you asking me for advice?”

“I…suppose I am.”

“You’ve never done that before. Not in seventeen years.”

“Of course I have.” James tried to think of an example.

“No, James, you haven’t.”

He actually couldn’t remember having done so. Which seemed a bit odd. He’dgivenadvice often enough.

“I suppose the first thing would be to make friends with Charlotte and her cohort.” Henry smiled wryly. “My sister will be rather a challenge.”

“I have no friends who are young ladies,” James replied. Except Cecelia, who was both more and less than that. “Can one really be friends with them?”

“Them?” repeated Henry.

James frowned at him.

“You say the word as if young ladies were an alien species,” Henry added.

“Nonsense.”

Henry gazed at him briefly, then shrugged. “I’ve found that the best way to become better acquainted is to ask people about themselves.”

“Ah. That would also make it easier to tell them apart.”

“Yes, James, it should do that as well.” Henry picked up his wineglass and sipped. Fleetingly, James thought he had the air of an audience member at a play. Then he turned back to his own concerns.

***

Cecelia entered Mrs. Landry’s evening party with a heightened sense of anticipation. This London season was unfolding so differently from the ones that had preceded it. She felt as if anything might happen. She’d never had a group of friends as close as the four young ladies whose company she now enjoyed. She’d never been the object of rivalrous attention by two sought-after beaus, along with a string of other young men who followed their lead. And most of all, she’d never received such marked attentions from James. Many nights found him eyeing her from some little distance, his stance positively Byronic, his mouth set, his gaze hot. She knew that the unfolding contest with the prince goaded him more than her surely familiar charms, but it was still a delicious thrill. The intensity of his look filled her with a heat that made her glow. She felt it elevate her to heights of animation she’d never attained before.

The excitement had led her to expand her wardrobe. The new gown she wore tonight was the height of fashion—a scooped neck and puffed sleeves on an underdress of aquamarine satin with an overlay of floating pearly gauze. Her mirror had told her it became her very well. She had a spray of creamy blossoms in her hair, and she could almost feel the sparkle in her eyes.

And there was James across the room, looking at her. In the past he’d come late to parties. Those he bothered to attend. She couldn’t recall one where she’d arrived after him. Now the tables were turned.

---