Page 64 of A Duke in the Rough

She did indeed, not to mention acted much younger. Only three years younger than Honoria, yet Honoria seemed ages ahead in maturity.

“Andrew was pleased as Punch to hear of our attachment. He thinks you’re quite the gentleman.” She batted those eyelashes at him again—a behavior he found a trifle annoying. “He says he will welcome the day when you offer for me.”

Had his valet tied his neckcloth too tightly? He suddenly found it difficult to breathe. His cheeks throbbed again as he forced anothersmile. “That might be a bit premature. We have only begun to get to know each other. I wouldn’t want you to make any hasty decisions.”

Time. He needed time, especially considering Simon’s proposed plan.

However, the dejected expression on Anne’s face tugged at his heart, and the image of her lying unconscious on the ground poked at him, reminding him of his promise.If she survives . . .

Speaking of Simon, his friend tapped a spoon against a crystal glass, drawing everyone’s attention to where he stood. “Ladies and gentleman. Allow me to speak for everyone here regarding our relief that Miss Weatherby appears to be no worse for wear after her horrendous fall. It’s time for our festivities to recommence. Tomorrow I’ve planned something more sedate, to make sure Miss Weatherby doesn’t overdo.” Simon sent a wink in Anne’s direction.

She laughed, her cheeks pinkening a little.

“Then in two days,” Simon continued, “will be the ball, followed by fireworks. I have spared no expense for your entertainment.”

Drake chortled to himself. Easy for Simon to say, as the money was not his to spend. However, Drake especially looked forward to the ball. Dressed in his finest evening wear rather than the rough clothes of a groom, he would dance with Honoria to music from a real orchestra, twirling her around on a real dance floor instead of in a field of flowers and humming a tune that was out of fashion. And Honoria would look gorgeous in her gown?—

“Oh, a ball and fireworks,” Anne said, shattering his daydream. “How romantic.” From the dreamy expression on her face, Drake could only guess she would expect a proposal that very night.

He prayed Simon’s plan would work.

CHAPTER 19

“Such a ridiculous game.” Charlotte glared at Burwood, her dark brows drawn low over her eyes.

Honoria, on the other hand, found charades rather amusing. “Come now, Charlotte. Admit that you find it entertaining. Watching Lord Middlebury try to act out Julius Caesar was priceless. When he clutched at his chest and fell to the floor, I almost believed his heart had given out.”

“Odious man,” Charlotte mumbled, not quite low enough to avoid others in the vicinity from hearing.

Next to Charlotte, Viscount Montgomery gave a soft laugh—his wife less subtle.

“We should all be so lucky,” Lady Montgomery said.

Her husband chastised her. “Bea.” But there was no heat to his words, and the ghost of a smile breached his face.

At the moment, Anne was growing frustrated acting out her assigned task, as were the onlookers.

“A squirrel on a camel,” Burwood shouted.

Anne’s shoulders slumped. “No!”

“No talking, Anne,” Miranda shouted.

Only two days since Anne had awakened from her fall, the poor dear would be back in bed if someone didn’t guess soon.

Once more, Anne’s arms moved in an arch formation.

“The Arch of Constantine,” Drake called out.

Anne opened her mouth, snapped it shut, then shook her head. Stopping for a moment, she placed a finger on her chin. Her eyes brightened as if a brilliant idea occurred to her. She started making poking motions, jabbing something in thin air, then she made additional motions, jerking up and backward.

“A war,” Honoria called out.

Anne touched the tip of her nose.

“Waterloo,” Victor Pratt called.

Anne made the arching motion again, then a swimming motion.

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