Page 260 of Dukes for Dessert
“He asked me to marry him,” she blurted. “I said no. He doesn’t really want me. I’m not duchessy enough.”
Father frowned. “What do duchesses do that you can’t?”
“I don’t know. They organize parties and decorate homes and manage households…” At her father’s smug expression, she clarified, “big ones. For important people.”
“Did he mean it?” Father asked. “When he asked you to marry him?”
She sighed. “It doesn’t matter. He left.”
“You said no,” Father reminded her. “Maybe he needed a moment to hide, too. No one is perfect, love. Nothing ever is. But when it’s right for you… say yes.”
“It’s too late,” she said dully. “He’s in London by now, with a gaggle of debutantes quacking at his heels.”
Father’s lips quirked. “I can’t imagine you quacking.”
“I missed my chance to find out,” she said with a little shrug.
“Did you?” He rose to his feet and lifted a folded square of parchment from the tray. “Seems to me, your Great-Aunt Murray invites you to London every Season.”
“I can’t go,” she stammered. “You need me here.”
“You needed to be here,” he said softly. “You tried so hard to be useful that you never noticed when you turned into the most capable young lady England has ever seen. If you want to go to London, you have my blessing. Do what your heart tells you.”
“In that case…” Hope began to blossom. She hooked her arm through her father’s. “You and Judith are coming with me.”
17
Carole rolled back her shoulders and stepped into a magnificent Mayfair town house. Mrs. Sands, the owner of the town house, was bosom friends with her great-aunt Murray.
Mrs. Sands had also landed the enviable coup of having the most eligible bachelor on the Marriage Mart accept her invitation to tonight’s soiree.
Carole and Aunt Murray were running late. Judith had spent no less than an hour curling and pinning and arranging Carole’s hair. She’d told her maid not to bother, that by now he’d have a dozen paramours.
“Not anymore,” Judith said when she finally let her out the door.
But now that she was here, in the grandest residence she’d ever seen, surrounded by the crème de la crème of High Society, Carole once again felt like the green country girl she’d always been. How was she meant to compete with elegant ladies dripping in jewels and draped in the latest fashions?
She forced one foot in front of the other anyway. Maybe he wouldn’t be there. Maybe coming all this way was all for nothing.
Maybe he’d be here, and refuse to acknowledge her in front of his fancy peers.
“Fetch me a lemonade, dear, would you?” her great-aunt asked.
By herself? Panic rushed through her, causing her knees to tremble. At home, Carole knew everyone. Here, she knew no one. Worse—here, she was no one. But her aunt was thirsty and Carole owed her everything for her hospitality, so she rolled back her shoulders and pretended not to feel like a crow among swans as she made her way to the refreshments table.
The Season wouldn’t start for months, so at least she could only embarrass herself in front of the minimum quantity of people. Of elegant, rich, well-connected—
The familiar snick of ivory balls colliding caught her attention, and her gaze jerked toward an open doorway. Inside the adjoining room was a beautiful billiard table. A dozen spectators cheered on two impeccably dressed gentlemen.
Adam.
He adjusted his stance, lifted his cue, and delivered a perfectly competent cannon.
His opponent murmured something that made Adam laugh. Adam responded by saying something that made the three young ladies cooing behind him erupt into giggles.
Carole’s fingers dug into her clammy palms. She did not belong. What was she doing here?
But as she turned to go, Adam’s eyes met hers from the other side of the billiard table.
