Page 65 of If the Duke Demands

Sitting next her, Lady Emily Grey whispered with concern, “Are you all right?”

She nodded at Josie’s sister-in-law, who had accompanied her to the lecture. Although Miranda had sneaked through the streets of Mayfair last night on her own, twice, she didn’t dare venture out to a society event without a proper chaperone. So when the other ladies had begged off, Miranda had practically dragged Emily out with her tonight because she didn’t want to miss the lecture…and because spending a quiet evening at home, surrounded by Sebastian’s family, would have been pure torture.

So now she sat in a gallery at the British Museum, refused to let her eyes stray to Lady Jane Sheridan sitting in the front row with her mother and sister, and tried to concentrate on the lecture without hearing a single word.

Lady Emily frowned. “You look rather ill.”

“Only a headache,” she assured her. Sebastian was that, all right. Her own personal trouble-rousing, heartbreaking headache.

Emily squeezed her hand. “We can leave, if you’d like.”

“No, I’d like to stay.” She forced a smile. “I’m finding the lecture fascinating. Truly.”

The look that Emily gave Miranda told her that she didn’t believe her. But her friend knew not to press. “All right. But if your headache grows worse, wewillleave.” Emily was only a few years older than Miranda, but she had the demeanor of a well-seasoned mother and the regimented authority of a colonel’s wife.

With a smile of genuine warmth at the woman’s concern, Miranda nodded. “Agreed.”

Emily released her hand and glanced past her down the row of chairs. “Oh—there’s Olivia Sinclair. I promised to help her plan her upcoming garden party. Would you mind if I excused myself for a few minutes to speak with her?”

“Not at all.” And Miranda might be able to use the time to actually hear what new knowledge Miss Bradford had to share about the ancient Egyptians. After all, thatwasthe point of being here. Not to wallow in her own misery.

Emily rose and made her way to the Countess of St James. The two women were quickly ensconced in a private discussion, their heads bowed together to catch each other’s low whispers.

Miranda turned her attention back to the young woman standing at the front of the room, holding a large crocodile skull in her hands. Georgiana Bradford was a wonder. One of the foremost adventurers of the day, with her exploits rivaling that of any man, she was brave enough to travel the world, face down natives in jungles and sandstorms in the deserts…while Miranda couldn’t seem to survive a season in London. Or find a way to save her heart.

A prickle stirred at the back of her neck, sensing him before she saw him—

Sebastian.

She allowed herself one glance over her shoulder to be certain and instantly regretted it, unprepared for the shock of electricity that jolted through her upon seeing him. Standing just inside the gallery hall, he looked magnificent in his evening clothes of a maroon brocade waistcoat and a black jacket of superfine, with a sapphire cravat pin the same deep blue as his eyes that offset the golden highlights in his hair. He was dressed elegantly enough for an evening on the town…or one of slow seduction in his own bedchamber.

Turning away before he saw her and she melted completely into a puddle, she fixed her gaze on Miss Bradford even as her heart slid down to her knees. What on earth washedoing here? A museum lecture was certainly not the type of event that a Carlisle brother would attend, and the duke’s unexpected appearance was stirring more interest throughout the curious audience than the lecture.

But Lady Jane was in attendance, Miranda realized, her heart sinking further. So were the rest of the ladies on his list. So of course he was here. Nothing about last night had changed his pursuit of a proper duchess, which only increased the jealousy Miranda already felt. And her heart slid right through the floor.

But Sebastian didn’t head for Lady Jane. As whispers and hushed greetings rose in his wake, Miranda realized that he was walking in a different direction…towardher. Each step that brought him closer worked to tighten the knot of nervousness in her stomach. She sighed in relief when he turned down a different row from hers, only to feel a wave of dread sweep over her as he settled into the chair directly behind hers.

When the whispers at his arrival settled down and the room returned its attention to Miss Bradford, he leaned forward and spoke low at her ear. “You weren’t at breakfast this morning.”

Her belly fluttered achingly, and a low heat simmered inside her at the innuendo whispered in their private language, one that the women sitting around them would never have understood. Or even suspected. After all, everyone knew the Duchess of Trent was her sponsor for the season, just as everyone knew Sebastian was hunting a wife—in fact, multiple bets had already been placed in the book at White’s for when he would make an engagement announcement and to whom, most of them waged by Robert and Quinton. So no one would have given a second thought that he sought her out, likely believing he was simply checking up on her tonight in his mother’s absence before heading out to the clubs.

Carefully keeping her emotions from her face, she whispered over her shoulder, “I wasn’t hungry.”

“You were hungry enough last night.”

Ignoring that innuendo, if not the cascade of heat it shivered down her spine at the memory of exactly how ravenous both of them had been for the other, she kept her gaze straight ahead. She didn’t dare to look at him for fear of the blush that would color her cheeks and give them away. Or the regret she might see in his eyes.

“I was concerned,” he pressed in the same low voice. “Are you not feeling well?”

There was no point in dissembling. She’d enjoyed herself a great deal, and he knew it, having felt her body’s reaction to his, if still completely unaware of her affection for him. “I’m feeling very well, thank you,” she returned in a voice far huskier than she’d intended.

From the corner of her eye, she saw a self-pleased grin pull at his lips, and then the telltale blush did heat at the back of her neck after all. Oh, the devil take him!

“So am I,” he admitted in a sultry whisper that made her breath hitch.

“Shh!” The matron to Miranda’s right turned in her chair to scold them for making noise, her narrowed eyes swinging between the two of them in a chastising glower.

Miranda couldn’t see Sebastian’s response, but the older woman stiffened suddenly, then smiled like a schoolgirl as a faint blush touched her cheeks. She fanned herself rapidly and turned back to the lecture.