Lady Elaine frowned slightly, confused. “You do not seem very keen on minding your manners, Your Grace.”
He could not help laughing at that. It bubbled forth without warning, with a level of carefreeness that he hadn’t felt in years. “I do not mean that I shall turn my back to you while you leave, my lady. I simply meant to suggest that I escort you to your carriage.”
“Oh.” The pink cheeks returned. “If it is not too much, I would enjoy that.”
Michael grinned, offering her his elbow. She took it with a shy smile. He turned towards the door, not missing the eyes that followed them all the way. They were talking about him, he knew.
Poor girl.
The dreadful scandal.
How dare he?
Bits and pieces of scathing gossip floated to his ears but he pretended not to hear them and hoped Lady Elaine was as oblivious to it as she seemed to be with everything else. He didn’t dare look at her, just in case.
He didn’t actually see when Lord Abney fell in step behind them. Michael only felt an overbearing presence all of a sudden, looming with such fierceness that it was a wonder shadows weren’t following in the viscount’s wake. He didn’t pay it any mind, however. He couldn’t pay much mind to anything when Lady Elaine’s scent was distracting him.
“I have another confession, my lady,” Michael murmured to her as soon as they made it to the foyer. Knowing that their time together was about to be cut short, he suddenly felt as if he couldn’t let her leave without saying his next words.
“What’s that?” she whispered back. Or at least try to whisper, Michael supposed. Hopefully, Lord and Lady Abney were not too close behind to overhear.
“Meeting you has made my decision to attend this year’s Season worth it.”
As they stepped out onto the porch, Michael lamented the fact that the dim lighting hid the blush that was certainly staining her cheeks. But he heard abashment in her voice when she asked, “Shall I see you again then?”
The hope in her voice was what stalled him. It shouldn’t have. He knew that. Just as much as he knew that escorting her to her carriage was overkill. But Michael was beginning to realise that there were a number of things that felt out of his control since the moment he laid eyes on her. What was one more thing?
“I certainly hope so,” he said at last, before bending to kiss the back of her gloved hand. Her fingers tightened slightly against his and when he raised his head to meet her eyes, he was struck by the sheer depth of emotions simmering within them.
His heart thudded against his chest. Someone—presumably Lord Abney—cleared their throat behind him and Michael remembered to let go of her hand. But he couldn’t look away from her. Even when she broke eye contact and climbed into the carriage. Even when Lord Abney passed by with narrowed eyes and Lady Abney looked pleasantly curious. Even as the carriage began its trek out of the driveway.
Michael just stood there wondering what in the world he’d just gotten himself into.
***
“Well,” Lorna’s voice filled the quiet carriage. “The duke seems nice.”
Elaine giggled behind her hand. There was nothing left for her to do at that point. Filled with such delirious euphoria as she was, it was the only thing she could do. Her heart was already racing, her fingers had grown clammy under her gloves, and there was an unusual heat sparking in her midsection every time she thought about the duke.
“Yes,” she answered her aunt, unable to wipe that broad, sappy grin off her face. “He is nice.”
“Do you think he fancies you?” James inquired, his tone as direct as ever.
“Oh, good grief,” Lorna sighed. “There is no need to ruin her night with your speculations.”
“It’s fine, Aunt Lorna,” Elaine said gently. “Truly.” She faced her cousin. “What do you think, James? As someone who has possessed such feelings before, doyouthink he fancies me?”
Lorna’s eyes grew wide at that and Elaine knew James was bound to be questioned on who he’d felt feelings for in the past. His jaw ticked and he narrowed his eyes at Elaine as if he knew it was going to happen as well.
“He does seem to be taken with you,” James admitted at last. “As did many other gentlemen there. Like Lord Penly, for example.”
“Lord Penly talks about himself far too often,” Elaine sighed.
“Then what of Lord Weatherby?”
“He is twice my age!” Elaine gasped. “Perhaps even thrice!”
“He is wealthy and a good man. You cannot ask for anything else when seeking a marriage.”
