“My heavens!” Lady Constantine’s mother, the Countess of Longford, exclaimed as Asher was announced and then shown into the drawing room. The woman patted at her half-pinned hair with one hand while scrambling to stand and set the small dog she had been holding in her lap down at the same time. As she bobbed a curtsy to him, her dog, who was already annoyingly yapping, ran over to Asher’s foot and started nipping at his boot.
“Bernie, back!” the woman commanded, looking utterly frazzled.
Bernie, the little black-and-white terror, paid no mind to his mistress, and Asher did his best to ignore the dog, who was working his way into a frenzy, presumably disliking Asher’s right boot with an amazing amount of intensity for such a small dog.
“Smitherson!” Lady Longford shrieked. “Fetch Bernie! And where is Lady Constantine?”
“Just here, Mother,” came a breathless, feminine voice as a tall, willowy chit whom Asher had seen but not met at the Antwerp ball rushed into the room. She halted at the door. The footman sprang into action to try to retrieve Bernie at Asher’s leg, which afforded Asher a moment to observe the woman who might well soon be his wife. Lady Constantine was not unattractive, but she did not stir Asher’s desire in the least. He preferred a lusher figure to her thin one, darker hair to her light, green eyes to her—
Damn.
As Lady Longford made introductions at an ear-ringing octave to be heard, he presumed, over the dog, he cut off the comparison of Guinevere and Lady Constantine. Irritation stirred that he had not been able to stop it.
Lady Constantine and her mother stared at him in wide-eyed expectation. Damn it all, he had missed his cue. He inclined his head as the dog scrambled around his feet to avoid the footman, who was now on his knees before Asher.
Unmistakable mirth lit Lady Constantine’s eyes, and her mouth quirked up, but the chit quickly schooled her features into a placid picture as she presented the appropriate curtsy in return. Pierce was wrong about Lady Constantine: the woman was not cold at all. It was good Lady Constantine possessed humor. Those who did could usually appreciate the irony in life, and those who appreciated irony were often people who carefully considered things. So it stood to reason that the lady would carefully consider his offer and not dismiss it outright if she’d harbored hopes of agrand love, as Guinevere used to call what she required in order to wed.
Smitherson made a grab for the dog, missed, and dove, planting himself a facer at Asher’s feet. Lady Longford began to screech. Asher reached down, grabbed the yapping dog, and commanded it to silence. Then he thrusted it toward the footman who had gained his feet, his hair and livery askew.
Mumbling apologies, the footman bowed out of the room clutching Bernie, who was making a valiant attempt to squirm out of the man’s hands. The drawing room door shut, and blessed silence descended. Asher’s muscles started to relax, but then Lady Longford spoke, her naturally high tone, infused with an undercurrent of frantic agitation, knotting his shoulders once more.
“To think, Constantine,a dukeis calling upon you!”
Lady Constantine’s face turned scarlet. “Mother!”
“Posh.” Lady Longford waved a hand at her daughter. “I’ve said nothing untoward. Sit, sit,” she said, all aflutter as she rang a bell and took her own seat upon the settee. “I don’t mind sharing that I was slightly worried about my Constantine.”
The obtuse woman grinned at him. If it were possible for Lady Constantine to kill her mother with her eyes, Lady Longford would be dead now, not that Asher blamed Lady Constantine.
Lady Longford cupped her right hand to her lips. “You are my daughter’s second caller today.” She looked pleased with herself while Lady Constantine pressed her lips together to form a hard line.
A young servant scurried in with a tray of tea and cakes, blessedly silencing the woman for a moment, but once everyone was served and the servant had left, Lady Longford opened her mouth as if to speak again. But before she could get a word out, more, louder yapping broke the silence in the room. Three dogs resembling fluffy rats burst into the room. Asher watched in amused astonishment as Bernie led the charge, followed by a black dog and another black-and-white one.
“Oh, dear heavens!” Lady Longford screeched, jumping up and tipping her tea onto her lap. She screeched even louder.
The chaos in the room only increased with the appearance of the harried footman and the servant who had delivered the tea. The two of them dashed about trying to capture the dogs while Lady Constantine’s mother shrilled orders at them. Asher looked to Lady Constantine and she met his gaze straight on.
He sensed steel behind her stare. As her mother raced around the room flailing her arms, Lady Constantine arched challenging eyebrows at him, but the moment her mother halted and looked at them—the servants had finally captured the runaway dogs—Lady Constantine’s face transformed into that of an obedient daughter.
Ah, so the lady was putting on a show for her mother.
The servants bustled out of the room with the dogs in tow, and Lady Longford stood there wringing her hands and opening and closing her mouth like a fish gasping for air.
“Mother, should you go change?” Lady Constantine offered. It was sly the way the lady had given the suggestion but made it sound like she honestly did not know what her mother should do.
“Of course,” she sputtered, “but I don’t suppose I should do so while the duke is calling. Let me ask your father to step—”
“Papa has gone to Town, as has Miss Hollymirth,” Lady Constantine said. “Oh dear.” She looked to Asher. “I suppose you will have to return another day since there is no one available to chaperone us.”
He narrowed his gaze upon the lady. Her words conveyed regret, but her eyes conveyed relief.
“Let’s not be so hasty, Daughter!” Lady Longford patted the large wet spot upon the front of her skirt. “I shall leave the drawing room door open, and the servants will be back and forth in the short time I’m gone, so it is all perfectly proper still. Yes?” She looked to Asher as if she needed reassurance.
Whether it was proper or not according to theton, he couldn’t say, nor did he care. The lady taking her leave, even if for only a short time, was far preferable than posing the marriage of convenience to her daughter in front of her mother.
“I think it within the bounds of decorum,” he said, offering a smile, “and I vow not to move from my chair until ye have returned.”
“Such gallantry!” Lady Longford twittered, to which her daughter’s lips pressed together in annoyance. Lady Constantine’s facade was slipping.
