Page 12 of To Dare a Duke

Loyal to a fault.

The words rang through him, easing a jagged edge of tension that had been ever present since he’d decided he must marry again.

There was nothing more he needed to know.

“Will you present me, then, Uncle?”

Charles grinned and gave his arm a squeeze. “With pleasure, my boy. With pleasure.”

They moved closer to the women and Robert knew the moment the wallflowers saw him. One by one their postures changed, rigid with alarm and the desire to flee. Eyes widened, and mouths fell open in shock as cheeks blanched white. All except the woman who was to be his wife. She was deep in conversation with the Morven chit.

Then she looked up.

Even compared to the other girl’s horror, her reaction was a little surprising. Her already pale skin became so white he thought perhaps she’d swoon, and then two spots of colour, burned high on her cheeks. Her lips parted, her chest heaving, and she gripped the edge of her chair as if forcing herself to keep still. She looked a little as if she might vomit.

Robert stilled.

“Uncle….” But Charles was already closing the distance between them.

“There you are,” he said, ever cheerful as he held out his hands to her in greeting. “My favourite young lady.”

The girl forced her terrified gaze from him to Charles, and Robert could see the effort she made to find a smile.

“L-Lord Fitzwalter,” she stammered, standing and taking his uncle’s hands as Charles greeted her with as much warmth as if she were his beloved granddaughter. “I had no idea you were in town, you never said—”

“I know, I know,” Charles said, skilfully moving her a little away from the wallflowers, who were all agog. “But my nephew desired my company, and it’s so long since we had any time together. Oh, but where are my manners? Bedwin, please may I present, Miss Chuffington-Smythe.”

For a moment, Robert wondered if she might do as he’d feared and vomit. God, that would give the gossips something to talk about. He could visualise the headline already.

Damned Duke terrifies wallflower into casting up her accounts.

There was a long stretch of silence in which the girl stared at him in mute dismay, and then she gathered herself with a visible straightening of her spine that he could only admire. She curtseyed. A rather ungainly affair to be sure, but better than throwing up on his boots.

“Your grace,” she said, avoiding his eyes.

“Miss Chuffington-Smythe,” he said, doing his best not to look like a villain who ate wallflowers for breakfast. From the glint of panic in her eyes he thought he’d best try harder. “A pleasure to meet you.”

“Well, now, if you young people would excuse me. I see an old crony I must catch up with. Have to hurry. At my age, friends drop like flies,” Charles added with a cheery grin.

Both he and his bewildered duchess-to-be looked at Charles with wild-eyed panic, which the baron blithely ignored. Before he left, however, he leant into the girl’s side and whispered something in her ear that Robert didn’t catch. Whatever it was made her eyes widen further, so far that Robert feared they might pop from her head. Good god, what a disaster this was going to be.

And then they were alone under the scrutinising gaze of the ton.

***

Prue couldn’t breathe.

God in heaven. She was exposed. Ruined. The Damned Duke himself was striding towards her, those cold green eyes she had written of so many times entirely focused on her.

Her heart was thundering, her hands clammy as they clutched at the seat beneath her. Well, she’d known this was the risk, she… she’d just have to face it.

The urge to run away was so strong she had to grip the chair harder and harder to keep herself still.

Courage, Prunella, she murmured to herself.

“My goodness, Prue, he’s staring straight at you,” hissed Bonnie, as Prue wondered if she might be sick. It seemed a distinct possibility.

Yet, there was Baron Fitzwilliam, ahead of the duke, and looking pleased as punch to greet her. She knew, of course, that he was Bedwin’s uncle, though he rarely spoke of his nephew and she’d been too polite to ask, despite her curiosity. She’d always assumed his reticence stemmed from shame for his relation’s dark deeds, but he seemed to own the relationship fully enough in this moment. What the devil was going on?