Page 34 of The Duke
She was loath to introduce Richard to the blood-sucking tick, but she couldn’t avoid it.
“If you would give over amusing yourself at my expense for a moment… My ward, Miss Genet. Miss Genet, my cousin, Mr. Richard Howard, rising star of the House of Commons, and future prime minister of all Great Britain.”
He coloured again, looking pleased. He bowed, and though he wasn’t loutish enough to outright stare, he clearly wasn’t immune to Celine’s beauty.Richard, you idiot, she thought,no.
“A cousin!” Celine said with the French inflection. “And yet the duke acknowledges you?”
It was a pert little remark that made Richard laugh. Then, with a tone of unmistakeable concern (whatwasit about Celine thatengendered such swift sympathy?): “I heard about what happened on Bond Street yesterday. I hope you were unharmed? Lord Royston can be…” He shook his head, frustrated. “Shecould beextraordinary. I pray she finds her way, before it is too late.”
“I like Lord Royston,” Celine said simply, but with something in her tone that discouraged further discussion.
Richard (Royce had, after all, once spat on him in public) hesitated, then bowed again, conceding the point. Kate felt… She didn’t know what she felt. It was live, and warm, and awful. Celine had seen Royce at her worst and still… she liked her?
Something caught Richard’s attention, and he seemed relieved at the opportunity to lighten the mood. He gripped Kate’s upper arm and leaned in. Gleefully, like someone’s meddling maiden aunt, he said, “Lord Burnley has arrived. Allow me to introduce you.”
“I am perfectly capable of—”
“Oh no, cousin, I insist,” he said, laughing at her, already heading off to intercept Lord Burnley. At leastsomeonewas amused by the whole thing. It was some minutes before Kate caught sight of Richard again, and the man he was squiring back to meet her.
Her heart sank.
Not because his parents were a step behind him, Lord Pecke’s zealot eyes focused on Kate with the clear intention of chewing her ear off for the next two hours, but because the young man with Richard was ugly. Unhandsome in every way.
He had a broad face and a weak, recessed chin. Large eyes, set a little askew. His thinning hair was cut with sober pragmatism. He had the soft figure of an academic, and though his clothes were well-made, they were functional rather than stylish.
Celine wouldn’t go for him. And Kate didn’t have the prerogative a real guardian might, of insisting.
It was unfortunate that Lord Burnley appeared to a particular disadvantage beside Kate’s handsome cousin, whose tall, spare lines were set off to perfection in his black-and-white clothing, his thick hair tumbling about his face, his eyes in their pretty, darklashes full of good, warm humour as he exchanged pleasantries. He obviously liked Lord Burnley a good deal and thought nothing of Burnley’s looks.
Kate could’ve killed him.
He thought the rest of the world as unbiased as himself! She loved him for his goodness, and sometimes he seemed to her so naïve she didn’t know how the world hadn’t yet eaten him whole.
“Kate, allow me to present Lord Burnley. Lord Burnley, Her Grace the Duke of Howard.”
The young lord gave the introduction all his polite attention; his gaze never strayed to Celine until they were introduced. After that, he couldn’t look anywhere else. The poor sod.
As Lord Pecke descended on Kate directly after, the extent of her misstep became clear. She had entangled herself with the Peckes. She had signalled a willingness to listen to Lord Pecke and even to lend him some of her consequence in Lords, which wouldn’t be without its own cost.
She had given Lady Pecke to understand certain intentions regarding Miss Genet and Lord Burnley, which must be carefully, delicately rescinded if she didn’t want to expose herself and Celine to scandal. Scandal would make marriage elsewhere more difficult.
She had taken a single step in the wrong direction, and correcting course would take time she didn’t have.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The duke had been able to tell Celine so little about Lord Burnley that when at last he appeared, she was impatient to form an impression of him. He took after his mother, of whom she was already fond. He offered his hand to the duke quite unselfconsciously, his easy manner showing an innate confidence that she liked.
She took a deep, steadying breath. She wasn’t here to be distracted by the champagne fizz of an evening out—her first party in years!—she was here to exchange herself for a bed to sleep in for the rest of her life.Thisman’s bed. And the first impression was good.
“Pleased to meet you,” she said, offering her hand for a kiss. He liked that. He liked holding her hand, though he did so with brief formality, and he bowed over it rather than kissed it. Lady Pecke offered Celine her hand as well, with a warm greeting.
Lord Pecke was already deep in conversation with the duke, not bothering to be introduced. (Again.)
“Forgive my husband’s rudeness,” Lady Pecke said fondly. “Every second of the day feels urgent to him, poor man.”
“I know the feeling,” she said, eliciting a small laugh from Lady Pecke.
“Miss Genet,” said Lord Burnley, “might I fetch you a drink?”
