Page 27 of Yours Truly, the Duke
Fredericka had to go to London, live with the duke, and prove them all wrong.
CHAPTER 8
VERVAIN
—DRAYTON
She night-shade strows to work him ill,
Therewith the vervain and her dill,
That hindereth witches of their will.
Wyatt leaned casually against the doorjamb and looked out over the drawing room in his London town house. He spotted the lovely Miss Priscilla Fenway smiling at him again. He returned her expression with a slight nod as he had throughout the evening. She was radiant in her dove-colored dress with dark-silver embroidered satin banding on the short, capped sleeves and high waist. A narrow crown of pearls and white stones sparkled in her coppery-brown hair.
She was definitely the belle of the evening.
The party was a crush. When a duke invited someone to his house, no matter the reason, they came. If it was a soirée, and not a scolding for an offense, perceived or otherwise, all the better. The room was pleasantly cool, the music lively, and the chatter and laughter full of merriment. A glass of champagne, wine, or other beverage was held in most everyone’s hands and the evening had progressed gaily.
His butler, Burns, and staff had managed an excellent job of readying the house in the exclusive section of Mayfair for this special event. The double doors leading from the main corridor into the drawing room where Wyatt now stood, were swung wide, allowing for easy flow to other rooms. All the furniture, except for a few gilt-coated chairs with green velvet cushions, had been moved out to allow enough space for the elegantly clad guests, servants moving about, and musicians with their instruments.
Every candle in the chandeliers and wall sconces had been lit. Fresh flowers of snowdrops, peonies, and jonquils in shades of white, pink, and yellow sat atop the baroque mantelpiece and hand-painted plant stands had been placed in the corners of the large room. A sprinkling of fresh-cut red roses and spikes of greenery were perfectly arranged in every bouquet.
Some guests stood in small intimate gatherings talking quietly while others fluttered about like butterflies on blossoms, sticking their noses into everyone’s conversation as they passed.
Wyatt hadn’t often hosted a party during the Season, but when he had in years past, it was purely for selfish reasons. He wanted to be one of the first to meet the bevy of young ladies making their official debuts into Polite Society. This year was different. He wasn’t looking to meet anyone.
He was only having the party for Priscilla.
“I think this is the first time I’ve seen you alone all evening,” Rick said, coming up to stand on one side of Wyatt while Hurst took the other and extended him a glass of champagne.
“A welcome change,” Wyatt answered, and took the drink his friend offered.
“Are you sure?” Rick answered with more than a littledisbelief in his tone. “I saw Mrs. Seymour talking with you for a lengthy time. And later, Mrs. Lovell seemed to have you pinned against the wall. Is anything going on that we need to know about?”
“Only the usual.”
A gruff sound of amusement rumbled in Rick’s chest. “So, Mrs. Seymour wants you to stop by her house so she can show you how beautiful her garden is in the evenings with all the lanterns lit. And my guess is that Mrs. Lovell wants you to come for tea so she can get your opinion on some thoroughbreds she’s contemplating buying.”
Wyatt shrugged with indifference. “I think you must have been eavesdropping on our conversations. You are damned near close to being right about both of them.”
“But what is it you want?” Hurst asked, looking at Wyatt thoughtfully.
Not the widows who were letting him know they were still available if he was. He knew that for sure, but nothing else seemed as clear to him. However, he wasn’t going to bare his soul to his friends, so he remained silent and sipped his drink.
“You have to admit, you invited the widows and other ladies to continue approaching you with solicitations and hints of willingness. You are attending the Season and now giving a party in a young lady’s honor without your bride by your side,” Hurst pointed out.
“True.” Why deny the obvious?
Not too long ago he would have taken both ladies up on their invitations without blinking an eye. The desire to do so was gone. Strange as it was, he’d felt different since returning to London a married man. There had been some changes in his behavior and wants that he never expected.
It was also true that Fredericka was never far fromhis mind. He certainly hadn’t wanted that. Nor had he done anything about it. Not even a short note to inquire how she was doing. Why should he? He was determined she wouldn’t be a part of his life until he was ready to have a son.
His mistake had been in giving his wife the second kiss. The first one was the proper one to seal their arranged marriage. He should have left it at that. No heat. No emotions. No desire. A slight brush of two sets of lips that had left no lingering effects.
Ah, but thesecond.
Memories of that kiss in the cool, fresh air with sun shining so warm and bright upon them had been heavenly to think about these past weeks but had also been a thorn in his side.
