Page 12 of Would I Lie to the Duke
“The brightest mind on Bond Street.” His gaze held hers and a hot bolt of awareness shot through her. It was as though she felt him in every corner of the labyrinth of her being. “Saw it in action myself.”
“Is that so?” Lord Trask raised his eyebrow and considered her, his eyes not especially compassionate.
“You were dressed in slightly more casual garments at the time.” The duke glanced at her borrowed finery.
Words flew from her lips. “That was my traveling ensemble. I’d just come to Town from my country estate and didn’t want to sully something finer with dust from the road.”
“Sensible.” The duke nodded.
“Forgive me, madam,” Stapleton said, frowning in puzzlement. “You are?”
Her gaze swept over the foyer she glimpsed behind the trio of men. A painting of idealized farmers in an idealized field of wheat caught her eye. “Lady Whitfield,” she blurted. “My husband, that is, mylatehusband was the baronet Sir Brantley Whitfield.”
She smiled at Lord Trask as if he should recognize the name. Which of course he couldn’t as she’d literally just made it up.
So, naturally when Lord Trask could only frown at her confusedly, she supplied in a helpful tone, “Sir Brantley went to Cambridge with your cousin...” She’d spent many nights at Lady Catherton’s country estate carefully reading and memorizingDebrett’s. It was important to keep apace of the aristocracy’s unions and deaths, since such information often came in handy when reading theMoney Marketcolumn.
She searched her memory for Lord Trask’s page inDebrett’s. “Mr. Edward Melrose.”
“Edward is something of a rapscallion,” Lord Trask said with a hint of exasperation.
“The very word to describe Mr. Melrose, but not all of his intimates are of the same stripe.” She trilled a laugh, and felt the duke’s warm interest on her. “In any event, your cousin had enjoined Sir Brantley to attend the Bazaar almost three years ago. My late husband was especially fascinated by the realm of finance, and unfortunately his final illness came on before he could request entrée.” She fumbled in her pack and was relieved to find a handkerchief, which she used to dab at her eyes.
“My condolences on your loss,” the duke said somberly.
“Thank you.” She tucked the square of cambric back in her pack. “But I’ll not speak of grim matters.” Jess smiled again. “My mourning is over and at last I’m able to attend in my husband’s stead. I realize that there is a more formal procedure for securing a place at the Bazaar—”
“We can bypass that,” the duke said in a voice that was both commanding and convivial. “Can’t we, Trask.”
It did not escape Jess’s notice that this last statement was not a question.
God bless this man, Jess thought,and his gorgeous face and even more gorgeous confidence.
“I...” Lord Trask looked back and forth between Jess and the duke. She gazed at him sunnily, and the duke’s expression held such assurance that she could not imagine anyone denying him anything.
“We already have two ladies as guests of the Bazaar,” Lord Trask said.
“Aside from yourself, unless His Grace is the only other male guest,” Jess said with a polite smile, “you need not concern yourself that women might outnumber the men. You have more than three men as part of the Bazaar, yes?”
It was always a good idea to ask someone a question to which they would have to reply in the affirmative—thus making them predisposed to be agreeable.
“Well... yes,” Lord Trask said slowly.
“Then it’s settled,” the duke pronounced. His glance toward her made it clear that he was well aware of her strategy.
With a small grumble, Lord Trask stepped back to make room. “Do come in, Lady Whitfield. It’s a pleasure to welcome you to the Bazaar.”
“Indeed, a pleasure.” A flare of heat in the duke’s eyes scorched her. “Looking forward to seeing you hunt.”
“Be cautious,” she replied. “I cannot be held responsible for the devastation I wreak if you step into my path.”
He gave her an endearingly lopsided smile, which he implemented with all the skill of a seasoned rake. “But I will die happy.”
Oh, he was trouble. But then, so was she.
Jess stepped across the threshold.
As she climbed the stairs in Lord Trask’s stylish home, she made certain to keep her back straight and her steps confident.
