Page 67 of A Virgin to Tempt the Duke
“You would have to ask her.”
“I might, at that.” Thomas’s grin didn’t dim in the slightest as he sipped his glass. “She always was a beautiful woman. More beautiful now; her time in the country has been good to her…”
Frederick’s jaw tensed.
Thomas smirked. “Well, good luck to whoever catches her, I should think there’ll be no shortage of men trying. I think I’ll have a gamble tonight after all. You should try it, Fred.”
He rose, clapped Frederick once on the shoulder, and wandered off toward the card room, whistling.
Frederick finished his glass and signaled for another.
This will make five, but who is counting? Not like Percy will be up waiting for me.
He had not finished even half of his drink before two more chairs scraped up beside him. Lord Steffon and Lord Daughtry both wore the bright, interested expression of men who had caught the scent of gossip and meant to run it to ground.
“Your Grace! How wonderful to find you here,” Steffon said as he sat. “How have you been?”
“Fine,” Frederick said and motioned for them to sit down, as that was the polite thing to do.
They were both old friends from Eton, though a few years behind him and Thomas. They were competent and good enough company, though he had no desire for their camaraderie.”
“You seem upset, Your Grace,” Steffon said as he sat down.
“This is my usual grimace.”
“Fair enough,” Daughtry said, clapping him on the back. “Mind if we ask about…”
“Daughtry! You can be more elegant than that. We just thought, Your Grace, being old friends and all…”
Daughtry didn’t even pretend at preamble, picking up where Steffon trailed off, his immaturity as ostentatious as his cravat. “Being Birchall’s widow and all, I’ve heard she is a woman of… some means. Is that true?”
“I am not in the knowledge of Lady Birchall’s finances,” he said, though it was not entirely true. “This is very uncouth, even for White’s.”
“Oh, but you know her well enough,” Daughtry cut in. “Friend of your sister’s, isn’t she? They’re two peas in a pod, those two. You must know if she’s serious about the marriage mart this year, or only come up to enjoy the parties…”
“She is serious.” The words came out clipped, and Frederick reached for his glass to give himself something to do with his hands that was not curling them into fists.
“Serious.” Daughtry exchanged a look with Steffon that Frederick did not at all care for. “Well, that’s encouraging. Awoman who knows her own mind is a rare enough creature in this town, and with her own means.”
“And handsome with it, from what I recall,” Steffon added, taking a sip of his drink. “I danced with her once, years back, when she had first come out of her cousin’s household. Lovely manners. Lovelier face. Though I heard Pemberton has his sights set on her…”
Frederick drank rather more of his glass than the toast warranted, the jealousy that coursed through his veins at the thought of Steffon dancing with her, or Pemberton courting her.
“Her fortune truly is quite substantial, I understand,” said Lord Steffon, gesturing with his glass. “One of the better matches this season.”
“Indeed,” replied Lord Daughtry. “Though one wonders if it will be sufficient to overlook her circumstances.”
“True enough. Still, her prospects seem promising enough. She has connections, at least,” Lord Steffon said, a raised eyebrow to Frederick.
“As for serious contenders, I have heard Lord Pemberton mentioned, and possibly Lord Elton. Both respectable enough, though I’d be surprised if she chose an old merchant like Elton.”
“Lord Elton a contender?” Lord Steffon seemed surprised. “Do you truly think so? He seems rather too new money. My bet is on Pemberton.”
“One never knows,” Lord Daughtry said with a shrug. “Stranger matches have been made.”
He sat through the entire performance with his jaw set and his glass refilled twice more, offering nothing beyond the bare minimum required to avoid open rudeness.
“Well, I think I see Lord Irving, Your Grace,” Daughtry said as he rose to his feet and motioned to Steffon. “We must depart.”
