Page 6 of Never Dance with a Duke

“Well, of course, she is hurt,” Jane snapped between watery sniffles, evidently her concerns for Nicolette, making her temporarily forget her place. “That lummox knocked her right off her feet, he did. Is that thing even a dog?” she demanded suspiciously. “He’s the size of a small pony. Indeed, he might’ve killed her. What do you think you're doing, letting him run amuck—”

“That’s quite enough, Jane,” Nicolette managed in a surprisingly modulated voice. While she appreciated the girl’s fervor, the maid had overstepped the mark, straight into insolence. “I assure you, both Bella and I shall survive this mishap.”

One of us considerably more bruised and with a jot less dignity.

“Allow me to deliver the puppy’s care into your maid’s capable hands so that I may assist you,” Westfall cordially suggested.

Ever the gallant gentleman.

Where was his white steed?

His blindingly polished suit of armor?

Speculative whispers carried to Nicolette, and she forced her eyelids open. Her attention lit upon a wholly unwelcome threesome, and her stomach tightened as wings battered her insides.

Perfectly, bloody wonderful.

Cursing to herself, and even out loud on occasion, was another thing she now indulged in.

After all, what did it matter?

How quickly her lovely day had been spoiled, and now a dank, gray shroud of gossip fodder hovered over her.

Ladies Crustworth, Darumple, and Clutterbuck chatted fervently behind their hands, their keen attention riveted on the tableau before them. Three hell-cats whose viperish tongues could make Satan blush.

Not considered good ton themselves, they were nevertheless, connected to many who were. Many who enjoyed bandying about anything that might earn them attention and disparage another in the process.

This was not good.

Not good at all.

The trio would surely embellish the incident, construing an innocent accident into a lurid clandestine meeting or something equally as preposterous.

Mama would not be pleased.

Ansley assuredly would not, either.

It was only then that Nicolette realized her lower legs, complete with her newly purchased embroidered stockings, were exposed for all to see. Another whim she’d indulged in since stepping onto the dubious path of spinsterhood.

And as luck would have it—damn it all—at this moment, two—no—four men unabashedly stared appreciatively at the scandalous expanse.

She couldn’t conceive that they merely admired the exquisite floral stitchery.

Silent expletives and unfashionably garish stockings were one thing—well, two. But permitting gentlemen to ogle her legs? Even Nicolette could not allow that.

At once, she handed Bella to Westfall. And Bella, the traitorous little hussy, licked his face most enthusiastically, her hind end wriggling in bliss.

“Well, hello to you, too.” He chuckled, that rich rumble that sent Nicolette’s insides to cavorting before he passed the puppy to Jane.

Her face contorted in remorse and worry the maid crouched next to Nicolette, her serviceable gray cloak billowing around her. She clutched the pup to her chest, and Bella proceeded to exuberantly lick her chin and cheeks, drawing a giggle from Jane.

“Bella, stop,” she said between laughs, angling her round face away.

His big brown eyes hopeful, Sampson thumped his rope-like tail thrice but didn’t move. He shifted his soulful eyes to Westfall, fairly pleading for permission to greet Bella.

“Good boy,” Westfall praised. “Stay there.”

The duke’s beautiful mouth tipped into a chagrined smile as he cut Jane a sideways glance, a hint of mirth twinkling in his indigo blue eyes. “He won’t hurt the puppy, I promise you. He just wants to say hello. He’s actually quite gentle.”