Duke of Disrepute (Dukes of Distinction #3) - Alexa Aston Page 0,74

she pulled Weston away and asked, “Why did you leave her?”

“Because I didn’t want to stay. I told you. Lady Morrow is not for me.”

“Very well. I will allow you one pass. No more. Though I do believe you are making a mistake. Lady Morrow is refined and friendly, two assets a duchess should possess.”

“How do you know so much about what a duchess should have?” he asked.

“Quit being impossible,” she ordered.

Unfortunately, they weren’t able to find Lady Millicent before they were asked to take a seat. Being that she stood next to Weston, she would have to sit with him. He led her to the back row and had them take the two chairs on the end. The evening’s entertainment was a noted soprano, an elegant redhead with an amazing range. Knowing Weston, he had most likely bedded the woman. Thinking that, she had trouble even looking at the songstress. It was a good thing that Elise wasn’t going to marry him, else she’d be jealous of every woman he came in contact with. That would be no way to live, always uncertain that her husband was slinking off to make love to another woman.

Clapping startled her and she came out of her reverie and joined in.

“Where were you the past hour?” he asked.

“I had things on my mind,” she said loftily. “Trying to decide which gentlemen to encourage and which ones to discourage.”

He frowned. “Elise, I—”

“There you are, Your Grace,” Lady Ruthersby said. “Wasn’t that divine? I am so pleased that you thought to have us accompany you tonight. And after supper, we will hear more.”

Elise hadn’t known the concert would be extended. She spied Lady Millicent, though, and said, “Oh, you must excuse us. His Grace has been most desperate to visit with Lady Millicent.”

She dragged him away and in the direction of the debutante.

“Desperate? Dukes aren’t desperate, Elise. We can be charming. Disreputable. Wealthy. Arrogant. But never desperate. Unless we wish to escape from a matchmaker.”

They reached a group of five, which included Lady Millicent, and Elise managed to ease them into the circle. Pleasantries were exchanged, including everyone singing the praises of the soprano.

“I heard that you sing rather well, Lady Millicent,” she said encouragingly.

The young woman smiled. Elise liked her smile. It wasn’t ingratiating. It reached her eyes. She had lovely eyes, a moss green, and thick hair curled high upon her head. She was slender but had an ample bosom. She was also one of the most beautiful women in the room tonight.

“I enjoy playing the pianoforte and singing, Lady Ruthersby. I began lessons when I was only five years of age and continue to this day.”

“I know His Grace would enjoy hearing you perform sometime.”

“Would I?” he asked drolly and then smiled. “Of course, I would, Lady Millicent. I am sure you are most talented.”

“There is a small parlor off the ballroom which has a piano,” Lady Millicent said, her eyes bright and full of confidence. “I have played it many times since my parents and I are frequent guests here. Would you care to hear a song before supper begins, Your Grace?”

“That would be amusing, my lady,” Weston said. “I’m sure the others would care to join me.”

By now, Elise saw two couples had joined them, one being Lady Millicent’s parents. The young woman’s mother almost salivated at the thought of a duke listening to her daughter play.

“Oh, yes, Millicent, you must play a song for His Grace. Come along, everyone,” the proud mama said, nudging her husband.

The group moved away—but Elise remained behind. Weston became surrounded by others and she was able to relax a moment, happy that he would see Lady Millicent at her best. She might be young but Elise could tell that Lady Millicent had a strong enough personality to stand up to Weston.

She joined Samantha and George and went in to supper with them. About a quarter-hour passed before she saw Weston and the small group enter. They all sat together at a table, with Lady Millicent’s mother maneuvering everyone so that her daughter sat next to the duke.

When they had finished with supper, Samantha said, “Would you accompany me to the retiring room? I’m feeling queasy.”

Her friend did look awfully pale. “Of course.”

Elise took Samantha’s arm and they left the room. When they reached the retiring room, Samantha hurried behind a curtain and was violently ill.

“Are you all right?” she called.

“I will be.”

Minutes later, Samantha emerged, still pale and looking shaky. She rinsed her mouth