Page 51 of The Virgin Who Humbled Lord Haslemere
But Lady Archer wasn’t finished. “There is one other thing, Lord Haslemere.”
Something in her voice made Benedict’s blood run cold.
“I…forgive me, but Lady Jane and Lord Draven were in London together that season, and there are some who say Lord Draven was still pursuing her, even after Kenilworth started courting her. I’ll leave you to make of that what you will, but it did occur to me it might be the sort of thing that would lead to a duel.”
Benedict stared at her. No, it was impossible. Jane wouldneverencourage one man’s affections while accepting the courtship of another.
“There’s only one thing that doesn’t make sense.” Lady Archer frowned. “If the duel was over Draven’s continued attentions to Lady Jane, one would think it would be Kenilworth who challenged Lord Draven. It was the other way around. It was Lord Draven who challenged Kenilworth.”
“Draven may have challenged Kenilworth for stealing away the lady he loved.” Benedict might have done the same, had he been in Draven’s position.
“Perhaps, though that seems a drastic measure for Lord Draven to take. It wasn’t as if a duel would change anything. By then he’d already lost Lady Jane’s heart to Kenilworth.” Lady Archer shook her head. “Lord Draven may have been madly in love with Lady Jane, but he’s never been a fool.”
“Every man in love is afool, my lady.”
“Perhaps.” Lady Archer’s rose from her chair with a sigh. “Or perhaps there’s a great deal more to this business between Lord Draven, Lady Jane, and the Duke of Kenilworth than anyone suspects.”
Chapter Twelve
“Well, Miss Georgiana, as delightful as your company is, I believe I’ve had enough faro for one evening.” Lady Trowbridge placed spotted hands heavy with jewels flat on the baize, and heaved herself up from her chair. “I’m not in luck tonight, and I do sohate to lose.”
Georgiana glanced uneasily toward the drawing room door. Benedict had disappeared with Lady Archer some time ago. She’d expected him back by now, but there wasn’t a sign of him yet.
“Oh, but you can’t leave me alone, my lady!” Georgiana grasped Lady Trowbridge’s hand to stop her. “Faro is dreadfully confusing, and I don’t like to lose all of Lord Haslemere’s money.”
“My dear girl, I doubt you’ve ever been confused about anything in your life.” Lady Trowbridge nodded at the tall pile of chips in front of Georgiana. “As for Haslemere, I daresay he wouldn’t bat an eye if you emptied every blessed coin from his coffers. Anyone can see he’s besotted with you.”
Besotted? It was the last thing Georgiana expected Lady Trowbridge to say, and she couldn’t think of a single word to say in reply until she recalled the way Benedict had looked at Lady Wylde this morning. Anyone who’d seen him then would have thought he was besotted withher. He was, above all, a consummate performer. He could make anyone believe whatever he wished them to believe.
“But it can’t be proper for me to sit here alone…” Georgiana trailed off, biting her lip. Not many mistresses worried about propriety, did they?
Lady Trowbridge blinked in surprise, but then she offered Georgiana a kind smile. “You, Miss Georgiana, are quite a breath of fresh air. I do hope I have the pleasure of seeing you again.”
She patted Georgiana’s hand, and then she hobbled off, feathers waving and her bright green silk skirts trailing behind her. Georgiana was half-tempted to follow Lady Trowbridge, but Benedict had asked her to wait here, and in any case, she didn’t like to attract attention to herself by leaving the room.
So, there she sat, the skin of her neck prickling with self-consciousness, feeling as if every eye in the room was upon her. They weren’t, of course—no one paid her any attention—yet the longer she waited, the more uncomfortable she became.
What in the world was keeping Benedict? He’d been gone for ages. Georgiana reached for her flute of champagne and downed the contents in one swallow before reaching for Lady Trowbridge’s glass, and with a shrug, finishing it as well.
Lovely stuff, champagne, so pleasantly refreshing and…bubbly?Yes, that was a good word for it. Georgiana had only ever had it once before, but as the cool liquid flowed down her parched throat, she couldn’t think why.
“More champagne, Miss Georgiana?”
Georgiana had been watching the doorway of the drawing room, trying to conjure Benedict through the sheer force of her will. She didn’t notice someone had approacheduntil he spoke.
Georgiana turned. “Oh, no thank you. I—” She broke off, gooseflesh prickling her skin.
The Duke of Kenilworth was standing beside her chair.
He placed the flute of champagne in his hand on the table before her, as if she hadn’t just refused it, then, without an invitation, seated himself in Lady Trowbridge’s vacant chair. “I insist. This room is very warm, and you appear flushed.”
His voice was deep and smooth, his address flawlessly polite, but his eyes…
Gray, narrowed, and pure ice.
Georgiana drew back, instinctively putting more space between them. “H-have we been introduced, Your Grace?”
“Not formally, no. I am the Duke of Kenilworth.” The duke smiled, baring a mouthful of gleaming white teeth. “And you are Miss Georgiana, friend of my brother-in-law, Lord Haslemere. I don’t believe I was toldyour surname.”
