Tall, Duke, and Dangerous (Hazards of Dukes #2) - Megan Frampton Page 0,81

to get dressed yet, is it?” Octavia frowned at the clock in the corner.

“I am dining with Thaddeus in an hour, and I don’t want to get anything on it, so you’ll have to wait until I pick you up for the party.”

Octavia looked startled. “Your cousin isn’t coming, is he?” She gave a mock shudder. “Any time I see him I worry he is going to order me to make an attack, or hunker down on the front lines or something.”

Ana Maria laughed, shaking her head. “He is not.” In fact, Thaddeus did not know of tonight’s party. She had decided not to tell him because of his arrogance in making decisions about her and not with her.

Perhaps it was a tiny bit of rebellion, but it was her rebellion.

“Oh good.”

Octavia drew back from the gown with one last happy sigh, then embraced Ana Maria. “I will have to find something I can wear to live up to your splendor,” she said with a smile. “I do love dressing up. That’s one of the reasons I love the Masked Evenings at the club so much.”

Ana Maria’s eyebrows rose. “Masked Evenings?”

Octavia gave an enthusiastic nod. “Yes, at first it was just that—people wore masks to play. But now people come in costume, and it is so much fun! Last time I dressed as my Roman namesake.” She struck a dramatic pose as she spoke, and then both women dissolved into giggles.

“We’ll have one soon enough. Next time I’ll let you know, and you can come yourself. In disguise,” she added, waggling her eyebrows.

That idea sent shivers up Ana Maria’s spine. She already had too many personas, she knew that—former scullery maid, unwanted stepdaughter, duke’s wealthy relation, enterprising businesswoman—but the idea of being in a place where she could shed all of that was certainly intriguing.

Especially if she could get another person to shed all of his personalities and show who he truly was.

“But I’ve got to go. You’ll come by at ten o’clock?” Octavia said, nodding goodbye at Jane as she made her way to the door.

“Ten o’clock. Yes.”

“Enough!” Finan said, holding his hands up in surrender.

The two of them had been boxing for well over two hours, the two hours since Ana Maria had left the house after her remarkable request.

The image of her lips moving to say “fight and fuck” would never leave his brain.

The only thing he’d been able to fathom doing was to exorcise his mind in violent physical energy. Finan had obliged, as usual, but for once was giving up.

Nash raised his arm to wipe his forehead of sweat. His shirtsleeve was already soaked, however, so there was no relief.

“Here.” Finan tossed him a dry towel, which Nash caught. He ran it over his head, then his chest, frowning down at his thoroughly soaked shirt. He shrugged, then pulled it off and tossed it on the floor, continuing to wipe his skin with the towel.

“What is it today? The dowager duchess making you mind your p’s and q’s too much?”

Finan squinted at him, his own face drenched with sweat.

“Take one of those towels for yourself,” Nash ordered. “You’re going to have to get me dressed in a few hours for another one of those parties.” He spoke as though it was a hardship, but tonight’s should be less so than the usual ones. Given by a somewhat scandalous widow on the edge of propriety, tonight’s party wasn’t one the dowager duchess would deign to attend, and he knew that Ana Maria and Miss Ivy’s sister Octavia were going, so he thought he would as well.

And when had he become someone who would willingly attend a party?

As soon as she’d appeared in that ballroom a few weeks ago, all starlight and sparkle.

He knew neither Thaddeus nor Sebastian would be there either—the former was long overdue for a dinner with fellow officers at his club, while the latter was working at Miss Ivy’s when his sister-in-law was out at the same party, so he wouldn’t have to face their scrutiny either.

“How has your search been going, anyway?” Finan asked, going to sit on one of the chairs at the edge of the room.

“Search?” Nash winced. His search for a bride. Right. “Oh that. Fine, fine,” he replied, giving a dismissive wave.

To a man who would not be dismissed. “Fine how? You know who you like or at least can moderately tolerate? Does the dowager duchess approve? You’re gonna have to tell whoever it is that you’ve hired