Page 22 of Pursuing a Duke
She batted her lashes because she felt like a young debutante. “What an inflated sense of importance you have, Your Grace.”
Chuckling, he said, “It has nothing to do with my own importance and everything to do with how you blushed when I approached. And the viscountess looked at me and then you with a knowing smile and a twinkle in her eye.”
“She never could hide her emotions, but she can keep secrets.”
“Come, let us join the dinner crowd.” Placing her hand on Andrew’s forearm, she felt heat travel up her arm and curl around her heart. As they stood at the long rectangular wooden table, Andrew paused, his brows raised. “Will you look here? We are seated next to one another.” He winked. “I wonder how that happened?”
As if she didn’t know. Either Claire took it upon herself to have foresight, or Andrew had asked her to put them side by side. Either way, she would not question it and would enjoy her time with him. As he helped her sit, she looked around the table and witnessed several Marriage Mart Mamas glaring at her and several of their daughters pouting. Poor Andrew must hate all the attention he had received since his return to London. Her heart sank. Or perhaps not.
No. She knew him well enough to know that he hated the attention. He always had for as long as she’d known him—ten years, to be sure.
“My sense of importance has just deflated,” Andrew said softly with an exaggerated frown. “What has caught your attention besides me?”
She tried very hard not to laugh, and she succeeded. “Mrs. Smythe and the Countess of Chelsea glaring daggers at me. Not to mention their daughters’ sulking.” She lowered her voice to barely a whisper. “The daughters are lovely and should make advantageous matches, but unfortunately, their mamas scare off potential suitors.”
“That can be an issue.” He draped his napkin across his lap as the first course arrived—fish stew. “I don’t believe their mamas will be too much of a detriment, as I witnessed several young bucks following them around after I first arrived.” He looked at her and waggled his brows. “Love is in Bath.”
His large hand curled around her thigh under the table, and she bit her lip to keep from moaning as her body responded with instant desire. It was also good that she hadn’t taken a spoonful of stew yet, because she would have spewed it across the table at the Countess of Chelsea. Could he perhaps have been referring to them when he said, “Love is in Bath?”
Several courses came and went, and at every opportunity, his hand slid beneath the table, stroking her thigh. The same need for his touch traveled through her entire body each time. When desserts of fruit, nuts, custards, and confections came to the table, Emmeline was unable to eat another bite unless she loosened her stays and doused her body with cold water. “Do you suppose the gentlemen are going to have port and cigars? Or are we going straight to the ballroom for dancing?”
“I’m hoping for port and cigars. I can’t possibly be expected to dance after everything I ate.”
“Me too. A little time in the drawing room to digest would be nice.”
“Since when do ladies talk about their digestion?” he said with a grin.
She wanted to smack him. “Since this lady felt like it. Do not look, but Caldwell is seated next to Lady Clarice Chesterfield. Remember the scandal that ensued the summer Aiden died?” She watched Andrew closely when she mentioned Aiden, otherwise she would have missed his entire body tightening up muscle by muscle. Until today, she hadn’t notice how tense he got when Aiden’s name was spoken. It pained her to know he was still dealing with Aiden’s death.
“No, I don’t.”
“Her parents, the Earl and Countess of Portsmouth, made several bad investments and were in dire straits. They used poor Lady Clarice. They dangled her beauty, kindness, and charm in front of all the wealthy gentlemen seeking brides during her first Season.” She softened her voice. “It was as though they sold her to the highest bidder. Every rich aristocrat, older, widowed, single and looking for a young bride to raise his children, or looking for an heir, lined up to pay homage to her parents. Also, gentlemen who’d had trouble finding a bride for whatever reason also came to London. They had their pick of a dozen suitors. But the earl and countess were smart, and they chose the oldest and richest. Instead of a dowry paid to the groom, I heard the groom paid a dowry to the bride’s parents and to the bride as well, so when he died, she would be rich in her own right. Which I know happens all the time, but they announced it openly in theDaily Times.”
“Christ.” Andrew coughed into his hand. “Warn me before you say something like that.”
“I will next time. Anyway, her parents sold... procured a wealthy and ancient husband for her. The Marquess of Chesterfield.”
“Ah, yes. I do remember now.”
“He died two years ago. No children. A distant nephew inherited the title and estate. I heard that Clarice receives two thousand pounds annually until she remarries.”
“I never took you for a gossip.”
“I’m offended. All of this could be read in the papers. What else was I to do when holed up inside my townhouse for years but keep up with the current affairs of theton?”
Shaking his head, he said, “I don’t know what to do with this information, and why were we discussing Lady Chesterfield anyway?”
“Well, it’s only that Caldwell looks smitten with her. Hasn’t been able to keep his eyes off her face or...” Emmeline glanced pointedly down the front of her dress.
“I see. Or rather, don’t want to see. But Caldwell is seeking company for tonight and nothing more.”
“How scandalous,” she whispered, wishing Andrew would visit her room tonight seeking her company. Moments later, the ladies retired to the drawing room and the gentlemen remained to enjoy their port and cigars.
*
Andrew went toEmmeline in the drawing room once the men rejoined the ladies, then escorted her into the small ballroom. When the dancing began in the ballroom with thirty people in attendance—not including the older guests, such as her mother and other chaperones—Emmeline and Andrew stood in a slightly crowded corner. Tapping her feet to the music, she hoped Andrew would ask her to dance, though from experience, she knew he wasn’t much of a dancer. Not that he couldn’t dance, but she remembered he preferred not to take to the dance floor. Tonight, she sincerely hoped he would indulge her anddance. Just then, the orchestra began the opening chords of a waltz. She held her breath, hoping...
“Would you care to dance?”
