“Dear God, please don’t do that,” Calstone lamented. “Please don’t set any sights on me. The prospect is most horrifying. Most horrifying.”
The tension Leonora had borne this past week eased a degree. She cast a mock-offended glance at Harriet. “I heard right, didn’t I? He did call me horrifying? I’ve never been called horrifying before.”
Harriet laughed, placing her hands over her lips.
“That is certainly not what I meant,” Calstone said, unflustered. “I, Duke of Calstone, will never call a lady horrifying. The idea that one has set her sights on me, however...”
“Ah, so it’s mysightsyou find horrifying.”What a refreshing change of pace!
“Perhaps I should have phrased that differently,” Calstone said.
Leeds nodded in agreement. “Agreed.”
“Leeds,” Calstone pleaded. “Help me, old chap.”
“My apologies,” the marquess said without a beat of hesitation. “But now my level of intrigue is so much greater than it was before.”
Leonora laughed, and her head lifted to lock with a pair of eyes that burned into the very soul of her. A ripple of tingles spun from the palms of her hand to the tips of her fingers.
Therehe was.
A spark of heat bloomed from the depth of her chest, lifting her mouth into a grin that mirrored the unfolding sensation. Ah, yes, only one man made her come this alive.
Unfortunately, his name was Dare.
Harriet grinned at them. “I can see you and Calstone will get along just fine. I had hoped so.”
“Hope,” Calstone murmured, “is but mere disappointment one has yet to discover.”
Leonora blinked, then cast a glance at her friend. “I’m not sure what to make ofthat.”
“Oh, pay half of his words no mind,” Harriet said with a shake of her head. “The duke is prone to exaggeration and dramatics.”
Leonora tilted her head ever so slightly and regarded the man. “I suppose rather than spending one’s time hoping this and hoping that, it’s best to just act.”
Harriet dipped her head in agreement. “I second that. Action is good. Great.”
Leonora nodded thoughtfully. Quite right. She never did like that word.Hope. Especially not when it came to the grand scheme of a person’s life. Which was why she preferred to actively seize her moments rather than just hope they seized her.
“I say,” Calstone said abruptly, his air of teasing replaced by a pensive glance. “I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this before, but you’ve always looked oddly familiar to me, and I suddenly remember who you remind me of, Lady Leonora.”
Leonora arched a brow, curiosity piqued. “Oh? And who might that be?”
“The Widowed Duchess of Crane.”
Leonora gave a light shrug. “I can’t say I’ve ever met her.”
“Me neither,” Harriet supplied.
“Oh, she hasn’t frequented London in years,” Calstone said. “Uncanny resemblance, really, though.”
An uncanny resemblance? If it were any other resemblance, Leonora wouldn’t have paused. But uncanny? Her heart stuttered. The phrase echoed back and forth across her mind, startling her into speculation. Could the Duchess of Crane be...
Could she be . . .
Her real mother?
*
