How to Fool a Duke (The Husband Dilemma #1) - Lancaster, Mary Page 0,52

not know my daughter is here.”

Since the duke was in conversation, Sarah turned to examine the exhibits, several of which she had not seen before. But she was very aware when he turned from his conversation to greet her mother.

“My lady, what a pleasant surprise to find you and your husband here.”

“Likewise, Your Grace. I see Drimmen is already soaking up your—er—pots.”

“You might find these bracelets and buckles more interesting.” He turned toward Sarah and her companions, and Sarah smiled. But he only nodded to them in general and moved on to speak to another group.

Hurt pierced her like the dagger she held in her hands. Hastily, she laid it down again, wondering miserably why he should be so cold when he had told her he would speak to her parents as soon as they arrived?

The answer, perhaps, was watching her from the other side of the room. Lady Loxley, beautiful, confident, and smiling as she made her graceful way toward them. Sarah braced herself for another war of words, but her ladyship walked straight past with the merest inclination of her head and took the duke’s arm.

“My dear, come and meet someone I have been telling all about you,” she purred.

And the duke, civilly excusing himself, walked away with her on his arm.

The dagger twisted.

“Miss Sarah, how charming you look, as always.” Lord Trenton stood before her, smiling.

“And how flattering you are, sir, as always,” Sarah managed to reply. “Mother, are you acquainted with Lord Trenton?”

Her mother extended one hand, which Trenton bowed over. “Indeed. But you just told me you do not use titles here.”

“Alas, I am not part of the Whitmore community, my lady, merely its friend,” Trenton explained.

“And generous donor,” Sarah added.

“In truth, I do little,” Trenton said deprecatingly. “May I fetch you a glass of wine, ladies?”

Lady Drimmen did look mildly impressed that an earl danced attendance on her daughter, but as the evening progressed, very little changed. Her parents must have noticed the marked improvement in her manners and social graces. They saw the way friends sought her out and talked to her with clear pleasure. Nearly everyone complimented her—and Lady Drimmen—on the wonder of her voice and looked forward to hearing her. But none of it seemed to alter their disapproval.

Worse than anything was that Leonard did not come near her. And she, hemmed in by her parents had little chance to go to him and ask what was wrong, what had changed…

What if Lady Loxley is right? Her blood ran cold with the thought. Could he really have said and done all these things merely to seduce her? And now that he had sampled the wares, as it were, and found them wanting in comparison, no doubt, to Maria Loxley’s charm and experience… Was that it? Had he cynically talked himself into her bed and deserted her?

Her, Lady Sarah Merrington, the daughter of the Earl of Drimmen?

Surely, it was inconceivable?

Yes, she realized with a flood of relief. It was inconceivable. And not so much because of who she was, but because of who he was. Honest, honorable, and true.

And she would capture and keep his attention with her song, just as she had when he had first come here.

The pianoforte was in the next room, where people drifted after exclaiming over Leonard’s Viking finds. Here there were poetry readings, including one from Mr. Granville that Sarah applauded enthusiastically. Miss Hammy was pink with pride in him.

At last the calls for Sarah to sing became too much, and Lady Whitmore bustled up and asked her if she would oblige.

“Of course,” Sarah said, rising from her chair.

But her mother caught her wrist. “Don’t, Sarah,” she pleaded. “I could not bear…”

“I have to, Mother,” Sarah said, hurt all over again. “I promised Lady Whitmore. You must cover your ears or leave the room.”

Without Signor Arcadi, she had to accompany herself, but she had grown used to this during her frequent solitary practice at the cottage. Her fingers knew their way about the keys from memory, and she could concentrate on her voice.

She sang a sad, Scottish love song, and put her heart and soul into it. The threat of losing Leo so soon after she had found him must have lent authenticity for when she came to the end, she saw the sea of her audience’s faces staring back at her in awe. One lady had tears on her cheeks. Lady Drimmen’s mouth had dropped open. Her father was blinking rapidly.

And there at the back,