Page 2 of Lily and the Duke
“Then what are you doing here?” Georgiana gave her a questioning glare.
Rose glared. “I am protesting, in the only way allowed to me, at being forced to accept my parents’ choice of husband for me.”
“I do not think the Earl of Kingswood to be all that bad,” Amanda Styles stated.
“Then might I suggestyouconsider marrying him?” Rose accused.
Amanda’s cheeks became flushed. “I am not the one who has been betrothed to him since birth.”
“He is a rake and a bounder!” the agitated Rose dismissed. “A man I find totally contemptible. Which is why I cannot understand how my parents could have agreed to a betrothal between the two of us the moment I was born.”
“His mother is a dear friend of your own, and I do not suppose he was either of those things at the time that agreement was made, having been only twelve years old himself,” Chloe teased. “Besides, not all unmarried gentlemen of thetonare bad. My own beloved Papa is a widower and a veritable angel!”
This announcement resulted in her becoming the focus of five pairs of shocked or disbelieving eyes.
Chloe looked startled when she became aware of the sudden silence and looked up to find those five astounded gazes levelled at her. “Well, he always behaves like an angel toward me,” she protested.
Lily sank her teeth into her top lip to prevent herself from laughing at this indignant assertion.
Because everyone knew that, despite his obvious deep love and regard for his daughter, the very tall, handsome, and imperious Gabriel Lord, the Duke of St. Albans, was also arrogant and the height of haughty condescension.
A gentleman, moreover, who, whenever he did deign to attend Society events, which was not often, was known to prefer standing on the edge of that event looking down his haughty nose at all who were assembled there rather than even thinking of enjoying that entertainment himself.
Not that Lily had ever found herself the focus of that critical pale blue gaze for more than a second or two. She was the eldest daughter of an earl, admittedly, but not one who was a particular friend of the Prince Regent, as St. Albans was. Her father was also severely depleted in funds, although that was not public knowledge.
Even so, Lily knew herself to be well beneath the notice of the wealthy gentleman eighteen years her senior and who bore the title of the fourteenth Duke of St. Albans.
Besides, if the scandal involving her younger sister’s elopement two years ago, when Hazel had run away with a penniless Frenchman, should ever become known, then Lily’s whole family would be included in that scandal, and Lily would be rendered unmarriageable anyway.
Far better to make that decision for herself than to have her heart broken by being rejected after a betrothal had been announced.
Her sister Hazel had been aged only sixteen and not yet introduced into Society when she eloped to Gretna Green with their father’s French émigré secretary. She had left a note telling them as much, but they had not heard from her since, regarding either the taking place of that wedding or her whereabouts now. A fact which hurt Lily immensely, the sisters having been close in both age and affection.
Their father had refused to search for his errant daughter. Encouraged by their mother, Lily had no doubt. The countess would not tolerate even a whiff of scandal being attached to their name, which meant that Hazel was now well and truly lost to them. Something which saddened Lily.
Taking into account that scandalous situation and her father’s lack of funds, Lily doubted the Duke of St. Albans would even allow her to continue to be one of Chloe’s closest confidantes if he became aware of either of those things.
Not that Lily’s friendship with his daughter made her of any more interest to St. Albans than an irritating piece of lint thathad dared to place itself upon the sleeve of one of his perfectly tailored always-dark evening jackets or superfine.
St. Albans had gone into mourning after the death of his wife when Chloe was born nineteen years ago, and the black clothing he still wore would seem to imply he had never completely come out of it.
There had certainly never been so much as a hint of gossip of the duke showing an open or clandestine interest in any woman during those years, in Society or out of it.
Indeed, Lily believed that cold and haughty gentleman to be capable of eviscerating anyone who woulddareto gossip or speculate in regard to his private life.
Dark clothing or otherwise, to Lily, he remained the most handsome gentleman she had ever met, his appearance the epitome of elegant refinement.
An elegance many younger men in Society tried, and failed, to emulate. The reason for that failure was because none of them had that inborn air of haughty indifference that caused male as well as female heads to turn wherever and whenever St. Albans chose to grace Society with his presence.
Lily freely admitted, inwardly, at least, that she was one of those ladies.
Indeed, she had been smitten with the duke since the moment she entered this house one evening during the spring of the previous year to attend a ball given by the duke to introduce his daughter, Chloe, into Society.
Even now, merely thinking of him, Lily knew her heart had begun to pound loudly, her breasts seeming to swell in thebodice of her pale green gown, and a familiar warmth now ached between her thighs and coursed through the rest of her body.
All from merely recalling staring unashamedly at the handsome duke, with his muscular shoulders and chest, narrow waist, and elegant legs, as he guided his daughter effortlessly about the ballroom in this house for her first dance at her inaugural ball.
It was because Lily knew how futile that attraction was, and that it had only grown deeper during the past year rather than dissipating, that she was only too happy to help her five closest friends form the Spinsters’ Alliance.
