The Deception (Baron 3)

“Flutter your eyelashes and keep your tongue behind your teeth,” the duke said easily. “Th

at, my dear, will get you a husband quickly enough.” He shook his head. “Poor fellow, I can just see him the morning after his wedding night. You’ll doubtless be talking a mile a minute, telling him what he did right, going into great detail over what he did wrong, informing him what you want to have fetched up for breakfast.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Felicia said. “I always thought I’d be sound asleep the morning after my wedding night.”

That brought instant and thick silence, until the duke said, “I don’t suppose you also talk in your sleep?”

“I will have my husband tell you after I am married,” she said, and grinned demurely at him, like a wicked little girl, knowing she’d bested him.

“I’m in charge here,” Lady Pemberly said, “and look where things have headed, straight toward the nether regions and other sinful places. Madame, if you’re close enough, box Felicia’s ears. My child, if you say another so impertinent a thing, I will call off your come-out ball.”

“I saw nothing wrong with what she said,” the duke said. “One hopes, after all, that she doesn’t marry a clod.”

“Then it must be you, your grace,” Felicia said, clasped her hands to her bosom, and heaved. “I’ve heard Mama say you were so expert with the ladies that you were thus a rake, but since you were a duke no one could call you that, except to your back.”

“I’m going to be ill,” the duke said. “I’m not a rake, Felicia. I’m a sober fellow, a solicitous papa, a gracious host. Look at the lot of you. You’re still here, aren’t you?”

“Yes, yes, my boy,” Lady Pemberly said, “you are all those things. But you will refrain from encouraging her. It’s all well and good that you’re an outrageous, outspoken gentleman who just happens to be very invigorating to look it. Yes, my boy, even I, a mature lady, notice how very nicely you present yourself to the world, whether you’re trying or not. Also, you’ve a bit more of a brain than this impertinent eighteen-year-old baggage whom I got stuck with as a goddaughter.”

“Godmama, I thought you worshiped me from the moment I appeared in the world. I was told that you begged and begged to be my godmother. That isn’t true?”

Lady Pemberly rolled her green witch’s eyes.

Lord Pettigrew said to Evangeline, “Don’t mind them, Madame. It’s been like that since I met the duke when we were boys, more years ago than I care to contemplate. Actually, they’re all very fond of each other.”

“Yes,” she said slowly, taking a sip of her sherry, “I can see that.”

Lord Pettigrew laughed. “Actually, I’ve known Felicia since she was born. I realized soon enough that she was indestructible. She enjoys being chewed upon. It keeps her sharp, she tells me. It also makes her the center of attention, you know, and that’s a spot she likes to be in.” “You don’t like her, Lord Pettigrew?”

“Oh, no, you misunderstand me,” he said, giving her a dazzling smile. “I actually plan to marry the little twit. I want her to have her Season first. Every girl deserves a Season before she becomes a wife. I’m thinking she will do quite well as a June bride.” He frowned toward the fireplace. “I do wonder what she will say after our wedding night. I wonder if perhaps I should worry.”

“I won’t comment on that. Does Felicia yet know of the happiness that awaits her?”

“A bit of irony there? No, but she will soon enough. Now, I hope you’re not overly fond of conversing over dinner. If you are, I fear that you are in for an exhausting evening.” He paused a moment, then called out, “Felicia, I was just telling Madame here that John and I find ourselves reduced to sign language when we are in your company, for we can’t get a word in edgewise.”

“I don’t believe you, Drew,” Felicia said, and walked quickly back to him. She looked up at him, blue eyes intent and shining, like she knew him better than she knew anyone else in the world, and perhaps she did, Evangeline thought. She poked him in the chest. “I’ve never seen any of this before. What is this sign language? Show me?”

The duke was watching his longtime friend John Edgerton watching Evangeline. Like a hawk looking at a helpless field mouse. What was going on here? What had he been to her when she was only seventeen years old, just a young girl, barely a girl, many years away from being a woman? Or maybe it was a hawk looking at a female hawk. The duke didn’t understand the look John Edgerton was giving her. But he knew enough to be riled.

“What the devil is wrong with you, my boy?” Lady Pemberly called out. “You look all down in the mouth, a bit of anger mixed with frustration. Ah, I know. You lost a wager. Hah! I’ll just bet it was a wager, over a filly—the two-legged variety.”

The duke laughed, there was no hope for it. He’d find out quickly enough what a role John Edgerton had played in Evangeline’s life. He said to Lady Pemberly, “My dear ma’am, I sincerely doubt there is a man in the kingdom who would wager against me on such an occurrence.” He sent a look toward Evangeline, who was standing by the fireplace looking down into the flames, shut away from the rest of them for a moment. “Or a woman.”

Lord Pettigrew laughed at that. “He’s bested you, ma’am. I wouldn’t bet on that, would you, John?”

“I did hear a bit of talk a while back that the duke lost a lady he wanted to one of his friends—Phillip Mercerault. Is that right, Richard?”

“Yes,” the duke said, “I did. No one likes to be deprived of something he believes he wants, but it was for the best.”

Evangeline was aware of what he’d just said. She realized that she hadn’t heard anyone else; just when he’d spoken, every word was clear to her. A lady turned him down? “No,” she said aloud, her brow thoughtful, all her attention focused on him. “That’s quite impossible. I don’t believe that.” She realized then what she’d said, laughed a bit shrilly, and added, “I fear you’re beginning to sound quite conceited, your grace.”

She believed that? He was inordinately pleased. “No, Evangeline. I said I did indeed lose her. It was you who insisted that was impossible.”

She flapped her hands in the air, spilling her sherry, which she forgot she was holding, and said, “I’m very hungry. I wonder where dinner is?”

“Come, Richard,” Lady Pemberly said, “you make yourself sound like your heart was dashed into the rocks. Nothing could be further from the truth. Only your pride was hurt, my boy. You know as well as I do that Sabrina Eversleigh did exactly as she was supposed to do. Phillip as well.”

“I would think so,” the duke said. He added to Evangeline. “The lady is an acquaintance who wedded a good friend of mine. Nothing more.” He turned back to his great aunt. “As for you, my lady, your informants would serve Napoleon well. Thank God there’s no more need since the bastard’s incarcerated on his island. Just look at your sources of information. Madame de la Valette arrived only yesterday evening, and here you are, not twenty-four hours later, at Chesleigh for dinner.”