Page 40 of The Duke Who Loved Me (The Duke's Estates 1)

“The prince comes here, a foreigner, and makes him look foolish before his friends and acquaintances,” Harriet continued. “Anyone would resent that.” She had been more sympathetic toward James since the conversation about her grandfather.

“Did you think he looked foolish?” Cecelia asked. A footman held the door for them. Cecelia was conscious of sidelong looks from her friends as they went out.

“Overmatched certainly,” said Ada.

“Henry said that Tereford always wins his fights,” added Charlotte.

“Yes.” A surge of impatience mixed with the sympathy running through Cecelia. “Well, perhaps it will be good for him not to, for once.”

The next day it seemed that society could talk of nothing but the fencing match. During a walk in the park with Sarah and Harriet, Cecelia heard the story recounted over and over, with wildly varying degrees of accuracy. She grew heartily sick of the tale, but the sly questions and sidelong looks that went with it were worse. “Do people actually imagine that a few minutes of flailing about with swords decided something about my future?” she asked.

“It is silly,” replied Sarah. “Did you see Mrs. Landry’s expression when she asked when we could ‘anticipate an interesting announcement’? I thought she was going to slaver like a bloodhound.”

“‘Slaver,’ what a word!” exclaimed Harriet.

“Well, I did.”

Cecelia nodded. This was the other side of the attention she’d been receiving this season. Now the eyes on her were sharper. “Why should they think it has anything to do with me?”

“Don’t you understand how they see us?” asked Harriet in an oddly distant tone. “We young women are commodities. Set out on display—as attractively as possible, of course—to be picked over before being acquired by an attractive prospect. We must take great care about the picking over—showing enough but never becoming shopworn. A fate worse than death! Look at a girl whose engagement has been broken off for some reason. Acquisition rejected! Where is the flaw? Sometimes, when we are all five together at a party, I can almost hear how they are ranking us. Pedigree, fortune, manner, physical attributes. Like goods on a shelf. Or horses in a race, to mix my metaphors.”

“I think that’s a bit harsh,” said Cecelia. She was surprised, and a little impressed, by her friend’s long speech.

Harriet nodded. “No doubt. But you’ve never experienced a radical change in your ‘value,’ Cecelia. I have gone from being worthless to a prize in the course of a year, through no actions of my own.”

“You wereneverworthless!” exclaimed Sarah.

Harriet’s expression relaxed. “Not to my friends. And I am grateful. But to society, yes. I was. And the alteration has been…unsettling.”

“You’ve changed since we’ve come to London.” Sarah sounded distressed.

“Isn’t that what I just said?” Harriet replied.

“Not precisely,” said Cecelia. “There is something in what you say, Harriet. But young women have the opportunity to choose.” She remembered her aunt’s description of the queen bee’s flight. That would be more satisfying.

“A few do. The ones at the top of the heap.”

Sarah looked even more uneasy.

“There’s Prince Karl.” Harriet nodded toward the park gate where a group of riders was just entering. “He’s gathered quite a following since the match.”

Cecelia turned and walked swiftly toward a line of shrubbery. “I don’t want to speak to him today.” She particularly didn’t want to be the target of all eyes while she did so. She stepped around a bush and out of sight of the gate.

Sarah and Harriet followed smoothly, but their successful evasion of one peril led them slap into another.

“Miss Vainsmede,” called an imperious voice from a side path. Lady Wilton, leaning on a cane and the arm of a maid, stumped up to them. She stopped very close to Cecelia and peered up into her face. “Where has he gone?” she demanded.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Tereford. Where has he gone? He is not at his rooms. His man seems to have no idea where he is.”

“What?” Feeling crowded, Cecelia backed up a step.

“Is there something wrong with your hearing, girl? He has not been seen since that idiotic sword fight. Where is he?”

“I don’t know.” Surely Lady Wilton must be mistaken.

“Well, you ought to know. You have let this matter get out of hand.”

---