How to Fool a Duke (The Husband Dilemma #1) - Lancaster, Mary Page 0,29
to see he already had visitors, one of whom was the woman who had seemed to warn her off on the night of the exhibition. Even without the uncomfortable twist of jealousy, Sarah would have been in no hurry to renew the acquaintance, so she was not best pleased to be hailed and entreated to wait.
However, there was little she could do without rudeness except wait for the others to catch up. At least she might have opportunity to talk to the duke who had joined them. But it was Lady Loxley who thrust her arm through Sarah’s, ignoring the men and chattering instead about a party she wished to hold at the inn.
“Do say you will come,” Lady Loxley whispered conspiratorially. “Just between us, my friend Lord Trenton is completely smitten with you.”
“I’m sure you are wrong, my lady,” Sarah said repressively. Gone were the days when such a revelation could make her blush. Besides, it seemed she cared little for Trenton’s opinion, amiable as he was. Her every waking—and sleeping!—thought tended to revolve around the infuriating duke.
As soon as she civilly could, she drew free of Lady Loxley’s clinging arm—a freedom she immediately regretted, as the lady seized Vexen’s arm instead, scolding him for his grime in a laughing and familiar way.
Sarah took Lord Trenton’s proffered arm with a quick smile and concentrated on answering his friendly conversation. However, she was undeniably relieved when they came to the castle and were shown through to the back of the house and outside into a pleasant walled garden where Lady Whitmore sat before an easel.
“Ah, visitors!” Lady Whitmore exclaimed, rising to her feet. “How delightful! Now I may give up this quite unsuccessful watercolor without feeling guilty in the least. Saunders, send out some tea if you would, and perhaps a little luncheon. Come, sit here in the shade…”
They sat around a table, which had been placed with some chairs under a willow tree, and Lady Loxley immediately launched into her supper dance idea. “What do you think?” she asked their hostess.
“I think it sounds charming.”
“Then we may count on your attendance? Even with so little notice?”
“Of course,” Lady Whitmore replied graciously. “I gather all here will be present?”
“If His Grace promises to clean his fingernails,” Lady Loxley teased.
“They shall be scrubbed and cut, and my hands rendered as soft as your own,” the duke said wryly.
“Then I might condescend to dance with you,” Lady Loxley said, smiling at him.
He held her gaze. “I might condescend to ask you. Lady Whitmore, your cook has a way with scones. They are the most delicious I’ve ever eaten.”
Sarah held her own during the ensuing conversation. Although she never thrust herself forward, she liked to think she made a few light, witty responses and added several sensible opinions when called upon. But Lady Loxley jangled her nerves, and she was glad when the party broke up.
“Come, you may walk with us back to your burial site,” Lady Loxley said indulgently.
“Sadly, I must forgo that delight,” the duke replied. “I have matters to attend to here first.”
Sarah, suddenly appalled at the prospect of having to walk back to the village with Lady Loxley and Trenton, searched wildly for an excuse to stay a while longer. “Did you find the music we spoke of, Lady Whitmore?”
“Oh, drat, no, I forgot to look,” her hostess replied. “Never mind. Come in and rummage now.”
Relieved, Sarah curtsied to the rest of the company and followed Lady Whitmore into the castle. From the corner of her eye, she caught the duke’s crooked smile and knew he had seen through her excuse. She couldn’t help wondering if he, too, was avoiding Lady Loxley, or even—intoxicating thought—making an excuse to spend time with her.
“Here is where I keep my music,” Lady Whitmore said, indicating the chest beside the pianoforte. “If indeed you care.”
“Forgive me, I didn’t mean to be rude to you or your guests. I hope they are not great friends of yours.”
Lady Whitmore shrugged elegantly. “Trenton’s mother is one of my oldest friends, and I am fond of the boy for her sake. Maria Loxley’s husband was one of our most generous patrons. I still invite her, though this is the first time she has actually come. I suspect Vexen is the attraction.”
Sarah opened her mouth to ask about any relationship, then swiftly closed it again. She could not be so unseemly.
Lady Whitmore smiled with a little too much understanding and flitted away, leaving Sarah to look through the