“I should hate for you to think I was eavesdropping,” a silky, feminine voice drifted toward him, “but howisyour search for a bride developing?”
Percy glanced to his side as the countess appeared, attired in a gown of garnet red. He said nothing, for though he spoke his mind about her when she was not there, having her in his presence was an entirely different experience. She radiated a kind of confidence he had never witnessed before, intimidating even in her silence.
“My dearest Anna hand-selected several of the ladies in attendance for your consideration,” the countess continued, following his gaze out to the lawns, “and though I would ordinarily find that sort of thing as distasteful as a cattle market, her reasoning was persuasive. And I do not think any of the ladies she selected would be averse to your attention, so all is well.”
“Her reasoning, Countess?” He turned to look at her, refusing to be daunted. He was a duke, after all.
The frightening woman smiled. “That would be between me and her.”
“Yes, of course.” Percy smiled thinly.
“So, have you found a lady who has piqued your interest?” She turned sideways, leaning her hip against the balustrade, staring at him as if she did not know whether to eat him or let him go. Just a fleeting glimpse into her intense, glinting eyes sent a faint shiver up his spine, as if he were supposed to have the right answer ready for her. The trouble was, he did not think his answer was the right one.
He shrugged, sweating a little. “Not yet. Lady Joan is very pleasant.”
“You do not need to humor me,” the countess said, in a voice that was more warning than suggestion. “Nor should you humor Anna, if none of the ladies here are to your liking. Be honest with her. I hate to see her disappointed.”
Percy nodded stiffly, disliking her manner toward him. “As do I, but I truly have not had the time to discover if any of these ladies would be suitable brides.”
“Eight years has not been long enough?”
His eyes snapped up to meet hers. “Pardon?”
Eight years? What is the significance?His brain was too hazy with irritation at her tone and demeanor to be able to figure it out.
“The two of you have a very interesting relationship,” she continued, ignoring his question as if he should already know the answer. “I assumed that when I finally saw you together, you would be in the constant throes of fearsome quarrels. Instead, I have seen you hold her hand in a room full of people. I have seen you reach for her while in terrible pain. I have seen you search for her in a crowded room, and watched your dismay when you could not find her. I have seen you gaze across a table in silence at her, wishing you could be the one sitting beside her. I have seen you lean in so close to her that I thought you were about to kiss her, and was moments from causing a diversion so that you might.”
Percy’s eyes widened, his mouth curving instinctively into a hollow sort of smile. He did not know whether to laugh or whether to let his bewilderment do the talking for him.
“Countess, I apologize, but you are mistaken,” he said, at last.
“Are you saying I didnotsee all of those things?”
He swallowed thickly, feeling as if he were back at Eton, reciting awful Latin to his schoolmaster. But he squared his shoulders, unwilling to show that she had rattled him. “The first two, perhaps, but out of friendship. The latter two—I am sorry, but you are mistaken.” He searched for the right words. “Anna and I are truly just friends. We are barely that, most of the time.”
“Of course.” The Countess smirked. “How silly of me. Ialwayshold hands with my male friends where anyone could see. Ialwaysmiss my mouth with my spoon because one of my male friends is laughing at something another lady has said.”
The beads of sweat on Percy’s brow and down his spine became a feverish trickle, the night air refusing to offer up a breeze to cool him. He had not realized anyone was watching him at dinner, though he knew the moment she was talking about. He had thought he had covered it up rather quickly, but apparently not.
Even so, it had nothing to do with Anna. She is a friend. Just a friend.He meant it. Or, he thought he did, but the countess’s words were swirling in his mind, mixing everything up into an unintelligible mush.
“I took her hand because she was ripping her glove apart,” he explained firmly, willing the encounter to be over.
The countess smiled that frightening smile. “Why would you care about such a thing?”
“Because… because her brother will have to replace it. I cannot abide unnecessary expense.”
The countess laughed a high, tinkling laugh. “You must think me and my parties very vulgar then.”
“I can… see their value,” he rasped, her intense presence and utter disregard for hierarchy like a hand around his throat. “If you will excuse me, Countess, I think I am in need of a drink.”
She did not stop him, gesturing toward the terrace doors. “You will find lemonade and cordial—or port, if you prefer—on the table at the back.”
“Thank you,” he said, striding for the respite of the drawing room and the promised refreshments.
But before he could pull one of the wretched doors open and step inside, her voice halted him. “If sheisjust your friend, Your Grace, then keep your distance.” That note of warning laced her voice once more. “Because Lord Luminport isactually interested in her and, as I have told you, I hate to see her disappointed. So, stay away and let her be happy with the man who sees the majesty in what is in front of him.”
It was not a request, but an order. If she had not been Anna’s friend, he might have asked her what right she had to speak to him in that tone of voice. But, deep down, perhaps he understood that, too.
