Page 26 of Once Upon a Devilish Duke

When the carriage jerked to a stop, the duke almost leaped out of the vehicle, and she could not blame him.

“Well,” Marianne said. “That went well. I think he got the message. Shall we alight?”

*

Women! They were nothing but trouble. Could he have abandoned his duty to them, he would have, and it would have served them right. He should go and seek a card game and let them fend for themselves. He would not be the first man to do so, nor the last. They would not have lectured him if they had known of this plan to ask Charles to help him with estate matters, would they? But Charles had yet to agree, so he kept his mouth shut on the matter.

Still, he stayed where he was and handed down his mother and escorted her inside to greet the hosts. He was a dutiful son, if nothing else.

They took up their usual place near the doors to the garden, and he was thankful that Marianne and Rose were busy having their dance cards filled. It looked like that particular chore was at least taken off his hands.

He was still humming with anger and disappointment. He understood their concern; diving into work was a way to keep himself busy so he would have no time for the melancholy that waited just outside his door. If they were really looking after his health, they would leave him the hell alone.

He saw Dunstan from across the room. Watched as he made his way through the throng of the ton. He was brave to come to them directly. Edward studied Marianne’s features, waiting for the moment the painter and ex-spy came to her attention. Her eyes widened, and she turned around.

“Do not be a coward, Marianne,” he said, turning her back around by the shoulders.

“I do not want to acknowledge that man. He duped Lucinda and me. He is a liar.”

“He also helped rescue Lucinda. He was duped too, by Stafford. Perhaps you could be a little more forgiving,” he whispered in her ear.

“Forgiving?” She flicked her fan up to hide her expression of skepticism.

By the time Dunstan made it across the room, it seemed his sister had regained her usual affable disposition.

“Your Grace.” Dunstan bowed to him. “Your Grace,” he repeated with another bow to his mother. “Lady Marianne.” Yet another bow.

“Lord Dunstan,” Marianne replied with a slight curtsy. “May I introduce my friend, Lady Rose Montgomery.”

“My lady.”

And another bow. Who made up this ridiculous rule?

“Lord Dunstan.” Rose curtsied.

“Lord Dunstan is a well-respected artist,” Edward said to Rose, as it seemed that Marianne was not going to explain.

“How wonderful. Where can we see some of your work?”

Dunstan looked up at him briefly before replying, “I have several pieces on show in the new Dulwich Picture Gallery in Southwark.”

“We should take a trip there,” Edward said. “Don’t you think, sister?”

Marianne smiled weakly and nodded.

“Oh, I look forward to seeing them, Lord Dunstan. We have yet to see any art.” Rose’s enthusiasm made him think of her watercolor that sat in the top drawer of his desk.

“Thank you, Lady Rose.” He turned then to Marianne. “I was hoping you may have a dance free this evening.”

Marianne glared at him for a moment before plastering on a smile. “I’m afraid my dance card is full this evening, as is Lady Rose’s.”

“Oh, I feared that may be the situation. In that case, I bid you a good night.” Dunstan bowed and then walked away.

“I take it you do not like Lord Dunstan?” Rose asked.

Marianne shook her head. “It’s a long story. I shall tell you about it later.”

Rose raised a blonde brow. “I’ll make sure you do.”