Page 53 of Taken By the Duke of Stone

She chuckled and then allowed her gaze to roam around the room, searching for someone who would make Victor pause. Noah's friends wouldn't do, especially not after she had revealed to Victor how droll they were.

Her eyes caught on a gentleman with dark gold hair who stood beside a matron.

"Who is that?" She asked her aunt, motioning to the pair.

Lady Hartfield followed her gaze curiously, "Oh that's-"

She paid no attention to the rest of her aunt's words past the fact that she was acquainted to the woman. Her scheme began to take life and shape in her head. "Can you introduce us?"

"Why?" She looked startled.

Lavinia had never been a good liar, and she knew she couldn't fib her way through an explanation of why she wanted to meet the man, so she decided to try some honesty.

"I cannot tell you right now, but it's very important, Aunt Felicity, please."

The older woman looked more concerned than suspicious but finally, she let out a breath, "very well."

Together, they crossed the room to where the pair stood. The woman with the pale blonde hair noticed them first.

"Felicity, how do you do?" She smiled, "It's been years!"

The man's eyes shifted from her aunt's and landed on hers and his eyes widened but a second later, he had forced his expression back into a blank mask.

"I did not know you were back in the country," Lady Hartfield said.

"Paris is entertaining but sometimes, you need a break from all of it. You think London is intense until you have lived with the French."

"You must come around and tell me all about it."

"Certainly."

"How rude of me," Lady Hartfield laughed, "This is Miss Proctor, my niece. Meet the marchioness of Forsythe and her son, the marquess."

"How do you do?" Lady Forsythe smiled at her and she dropped into a curtsy.

"My lady, My lord."

"Do take her for a dance, Wren," his mother urged, "I have a lot of catching up to do with Lady Hartfield."

The man's square jaw ticked. "Of course," then he turned to Lavinia, "shall we?"

She placed her hand on his sleeve and together they walked towards the floor just as another waltz began. The man was handsome enough she supposed. He was tall, with dark gold hair and blue eyes, and his evening clothes fit against an impressive frame. He was a bit older than the Duke too.

In fact, he was the perfect candidate to show that infuriating man that she did not care a lick about him, and she was taking his advice to have a discreet affair.

"I heard Forsythe was back in town, but I never thought he would be out and about so soon," Patrick mused as he sipped on his drink.

Victor had no interest in the idle gossip. His mind was full of stomach turning images of Lavinia underneath another man.

Why the bloody hell had he said that nonsense about her starting an affair?

But from the way he itched to hit something at the thought of her with someone else, he supposed he had done the best thing by using every ounce of his willpower to stick to the rules of their arrangement. He was already far deeper than he had ever thought possible. If he touched her again, there would be no saving him.

"Are you listening, man?" The viscount narrowed his eyes at him.

"Something about Forsythe," he replied.

"I assumed you would be more interested in the marquess, considering that he wasted no time at all in snagging your future duchess."

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