Page 2 of Last Night with the Duke
The woman then adjusted the shawl higher on her shoulders and came around from behind her desk and walked toward him with a slow, assured stroll that allowed him time to peruse her lovely face. Her complexion was delicate and parchment pale. Her wide, golden-brown eyes were framed by fan-shaped brows and long dark lashes. She held a steady, uncensored gaze on him too.
There was a full, sensuous quality to her sweetly shaped lips. Her nose was small and nicely shaped. For the life of him, he didn’t know why, but he had a sudden desire to reach down, kiss the tip of it, and say to her, “Well done.” The corners of her beautifully formed mouth lifted slightly with a perfunctory smile, letting him know that whatever he may or may not have heard her say was not going to alter her appropriate response to him.
Her quick change in demeanor amused him, but impressed him too. He had a feeling she had no idea how much of herself she’d revealed to him in such a short time. For now, he wanted to keep that bit of information to himself.
As he watched her, he realized he was drawn to her in a way he hadn’t been attracted to a woman in a long time. A very long time. He couldn’t put his finger on what it was yet, but there was something more than just her understated beauty that beckoned him.
Griffin didn’t know who she was, but she couldn’t be Miss Mamie Fortescue. She was much too young. The employment agency had been a mainstay on the street for as long as he could remember. Perhaps she was a relative of the owner. One other thing he was certain of as she stopped a respectable distance from him and stared directly into his eyes as boldly as any man ever had—Griffin was already more than a little intrigued by her.
“May I help you, sir?” she asked as the other young woman hurried past with her head bent low and rushed out the main door without so much as a backward glance.
Oh, yes,he thought. But he said, “Possibly. I was looking for Miss Mamie Fortescue.”
She clasped her hands together in front of her and answered, “I regret having to tell you she is no longer with this agency though it still bears her name. I’m Miss Esmeralda Swift, the administrator. Perhaps I can help you, Mr.—?”
He was silent for a moment as he pushed his cloak aside and stuffed his leather gloves into the pocket of his coat. Then he answered softly, “I am Griffin.”
A flash of knowledge sparkled in her eyes and she quickly curtsied. “Your Grace, pardon me for not recognizing you. It’s not every day a duke walks into the agency.”
He’d wager on that statement.
He wouldn’t have come inside today either, had he not noticed the sign as he was passing by and acted without forethought. All things concerning staff were usually left to his more-than-confident butler and housekeeper. However, on a rare streak of impulse, he decided he had to take matters into his own hands and exert a personal interest in who would be watching out for his sisters’ best interest during the Season.
Ever since the ill-fated wager was made known years ago, Griffin seldom attended the large balls and parties where most of thetonassembled, preferring the smaller, quieter dinners during the Season. Now, he was forced to begin attending them again. He knew his sisters, and they wouldn’t be easy to keep up with. It was up to him to escort them in the evening and keep an eye on them. It wasn’t a responsibility he’d ever expected to have, and while he wouldn’t look forward to it, perhaps it was the best he deserved for his past misdeeds.
“No need to concern yourself with that, Miss Swift. You may not have recognized me,” he said ruefully, “but I can see there’s no doubt you’ve heard of me.”
Miss Swift opened her mouth to speak, but then as if thinking better of it, pressed her lips together and refrained from making a comment. He could only imagine what she must be thinking.
None of it good, he was sure.
Though he gave up worrying about what was thought or said about him long ago, Griffin’s awareness of her as a woman who was not shy of courage continued to grow.
He wanted to know what she’d started to say, so he added, “Please don’t be bashful with me, Miss Swift, or let my title keep you from speaking your mind. I assure you it won’t upset me or alter the reason I’m here.”
“Truly?” she asked with the first real sign of trepidation he’d seen her show.
He liked the fact she was inquisitive enough to want to test him yet wary enough to be cautious. “You have my word.”
“In that case, aside from the fact that it’s in my best interest to know the names of as many people as possible in Polite Society, I would venture to say every female between the ages of eight and eighty in all of England, Scotland, and Wales has heard your name, Your Grace, and knows what you and your friends did a few years ago.”
That many?
So she had a sense of humor.
Her observance was cleverly stated. He smiled and relaxed his stance. It was refreshing that his being a duke hadn’t intimidated her once he gave her permission to speak freely. All too often his title seemed to petrify young ladies. Most had no idea what to say to him or how to answer him with a direct response.
With a casual shrug, he said, “You forgot France, Portugal, Spain, and probably most of the Americas too.”
A hint of good humor twitched at the corners of her mouth at the embellishment of what he stated. That pleased him too. Though in truth, he hadn’t been many places that didn’t know of him as one of the “Rakes of St. James.”
“I stand corrected, Your Grace, but not surprised thatMiss Honora Truth’s Weekly Scandal Sheetis that widely known.”
Her tone of voice lent veracity to her words, and his interest in her heightened. There was something about her self-confidence, and about how easy she was with it, that drew him.
“I have little doubt that writing about the Rakes of St. James these past weeks has made Miss Truth a wealthy woman by now, though the three of us have stayed out of Society the past few years except for an attending an occasional dinner party or ball.”
“So I’ve heard.”
