A Duchess a Day (Awakened by a Kiss #1) - Charis Michaels Page 0,40

spoke briefly to the governess and bade Nettle to watch over them. The girls muttered vague gratitude and farewells and hurried inside, already bickering about who would sit closest to the window.

When she was finally, blessedly, alone, Helena turned back to the street.

Her plan had been to make one quick but thorough circuit, and then retire to the modiste’s for her fitting while Shaw kept watch. After the fitting, she would make some excuse and circuit the street again.

Lady Genevieve. Blonde. Beautiful. Dresses to be noticed, she repeated in her head, raising a gloved hand to shade her face.

“It’s ambitious, I think,” said a male voice behind her, “to stand in one spot and hope she happens along.”

Shaw. Helena’s lungs were a sieve.

“Ah,” she said, not looking back. “There you are.” Her voice was steady and controlled, but her heartbeat ran away.

“My sisters are occupied for twenty minutes, thirty if we are lucky. My mother is with the modiste. Shall we walk?”

She glanced at him, forcing herself to look imperious and demanding. She would not stare at his mouth.

“You’ll have to keep behind me,” she said. “And carry this.” She shrugged from a plum-colored velvet cloak and draped it across his arms.

“Yes, my lady,” he said. Three simple words, words she’d heard from servants all her life. Did she imagine the note of . . . suggestion when he said them?

A charged sort of energy buzzed from along the back of her neck.

“I assume you have made considerations if this girl isn’t alone,” Shaw said lowly.

“You assume correctly.”

“I reckon she’ll be in the company of a relative,” he guessed, “or companion.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve thought of this.”

They came to the intersection of Conduit Street, and Shaw stepped into the road to block the intersection so she could pass. Helena checked every female face. Nothing. Wrong age, wrong class, wrong coloring. There were blonde women, but they pushed prams or walked arm in arm with friends—almost correct but not exactly.

Helena went on. “Let me tell you what I intend to say to her, if we see her. I stayed up half the night, making a sort of conversational map of each irresistible detail of the exclusive invitation I’m offering. I’ll lure them in, bit by bit.”

“I trust you.”

“They’ve been singled out partly because of their very great desire for a title. And the title of duchess is the very best of all, save princess. Every girl wants a duke.”

“Every girl except you,” he sighed.

“For example,” Helena pressed on, “I will introduce myself, along with the added detail that I am engaged to the Duke of Lusk. After this revelation, I will watch very closely for a reaction. It forces either a congratulations or question about the wedding. If I detect even the slightest bit of hesitation or judgment or envy, that will be my cue to say something like, ‘Oh, thank you. What a pity I cannot sleep nights for being worried about how I will manage as duchess . . .’

“And if this sparks a look of shrewd interest, along with the not-so-innocent question of, ‘Why ever not?’ I will follow with, ‘Oh, the very great responsibility of it all. There are so many properties and a great number of social commitments. The shopping alone . . .’ My expression will show something like ‘winsome dread.’ ” She affected an expression of winsome dread.

“Thank God I’ve no part of this bit,” Declan mumbled.

She continued, stepping around an old woman with a bird in a cage. “And if she shows concern—not authentic concern but kind of mercenary concern—I will say, ‘Honestly, I’m worried that I might not be up to the task . . .’

“And on and on it will go,” she finished. “I will be nimble and opportunistic. Just as you have said. Sage words, from a groom.”

“God help us.”

“In the end, if my cues and leading questions take us down the path to a place of their bald-faced interest, I will simply tell them: I’m trying to pawn him off. And then I will invite them to Girdleston’s birthday party. Next week. There they may get a look at the duke and . . . and give it a go. They will dazzle him.”

“Again,” said Declan, “God help us.”

“Do not worry. You underestimate the irresistible prospect of a duke simply . . . theirs for the taking. I chose these girls because they are primed to pounce. And if ever they appear less than transfixed with the idea of having