Page 3 of His Forbidden Duchess
“Eloise! You look stunning this evening.”
“Hannah! You cannot know how good it is to see you,” Eloise said as she gave her dear friend a quick heartfelt embrace.
Hannah Bryton, the youngest daughter of the Earl of Frinton, was as beautiful on the inside as she was on the outside. Though she could outshine even the prettiest girls in the Ton, she had never shown much desire to do so, and that was one of the many reasons Eloise loved her so much. She was shy, grounded, and cautious, but she was also the most caring person Eloise had ever met.
“I have hardly seen you at any of the recent events,” she said. “I thought you might have fallen ill.”
Eloise returned her smile though it did not quite reach her eyes. “Nothing that dramatic, I assure you. I have simply been busy.”
Hannah linked her arm with Eloise’s, guiding her towards a quieter corner of the room away from the thickest throngs of guests. “Well, it is good to see you. You have been missed although I daresay you have not missed much.”
Eloise chuckled softly. “I can imagine.”
“Are you quite sure everything is all right?” Hannah asked.
“I am certain,” Eloise said firmly. “I promise. You know I would never hide anything from you.”
If only that were true.
“I know,” Hannah said. “There was?—”
Her words were cut short by a commotion ahead as a flock of fawning ladies fluttered their fans around a newcomer. Eloise raised herself up onto her tiptoes to get a better look.
“Good evening, one and all,” the newcomer called, his voice booming across the ballroom.
If she did not know any better, Eloise would have thought him the host, but he was merely another guest.
Hannah leaned in with a mischievous smile. “Look who is gracing us with his presence this evening. I do believe he is only here to remind us all how terribly charming he is.”
Lord Gideon Larson, Earl of Mortcombe, was a bombastic man. He always wanted everyone to know that he had arrived, and he would also make a fuss every time he departed.
He was attractive, Eloise supposed, but in a superficial, false sort of way, his nose perpetually tilted slightly upward as though the world existed solely to admire him. He was vain and arrogant in a way that only the wealthiest of men were, and he had somehow become the most eligible bachelor of the Ton.
Eloise could not see what all the fuss was about.
Eloise groaned and lowered herself from her toes. “If charm could be measured by vanity, he would have an endless supply.”
“Careful,” Hannah teased. “He is heading this way. Are you quite sure that you do not wish to join the gaggle of gigglers?”
Lord Mortcombe sauntered over to them, his posture the very picture of smugness. “Ah, Lady Eloise,” he drawled, his voice as slick as oil. “You look positively radiant tonight. I do believe you have immeasurably surpassed the beauty of this wondrous evening.”
Eloise curtsied politely but could not suppress a small, wry smile. “How very kind of you to notice, My Lord, though I fear it might be the chandeliers that deserve the credit for my radiance this evening.”
He chuckled, clearly believing his wit had elicited hers. “Indeed, you may be correct. They are such stunning chandeliers, are they not? I have considered adding some to my own home.”
Eloise raised an eyebrow, her tone dry as she replied, “Yes, perhaps they would brighten up your world a bit.”
Lord Mortcombe blinked, not quite catching her barb. He continued undeterred, stepping closer and lowering his voice as though sharing some great secret. “I must say, I have been watching you for some time, Lady Eloise. You have an air about you, a grace that is hard to find. Surely, you have noticed the attention that you have garnered?”
Eloise tilted her head, pretending to ponder. “Indeed, My Lord, I have taken notice. Though, I must admit, I have found that many gentlemen are drawn to appearances rather than substance.”
Lord Mortcombe beamed, assuming her comment was an acknowledgment of his own interest. “Exactly, my dear! You understand the importance of appearances. After all, that is how we get to know each other, is it not?”
Eloise exchanged a glance with Hannah, who was doing her best not to laugh outright. Had the man listened to a word she had said, or was he really that obtuse?
“Oh, indeed,” Eloise replied, her words coated in amusement. “But I also place so much value on conversations of real depth and meaning. I do find them so refreshing.”
Lord Mortcombe straightened his cravat, puffing out his chest. “Well, I like to think of myself as a man of intellect, Lady Eloise. I have read quite a few books, you know.”
