Page 24 of Would I Lie to the Duke
The duke’s face appeared in the carriage window. He favored all of them with a blinding smile. “You have wisely chosen to segregate yourselves, ladies. Hopefully, no one will notice if I borrow a bonnet and pretend to be one of your sex so I may join you on the ride to Catton’s.”
“Go on with you, rascal.” Lady Haighe sniffed. “No one would mistake you for a woman. You’ve got half a day’s beard growth and smell of tobacco.”
“So does my great-aunt Lucretia,” he said.
Jess pretended to cough to hide her laugh.
“Begone!” Lady Haighe thumped her walking stick on the floor of the carriage.
“Ladies.” He winked at Lady Haighe, then touched his fingertips to the brim of his hat before disappearing from the carriage window.
“We’re not discussing men,” Lady Farris said, “but if wewere, I’d say that it’s fortunate that His Grace is a duke. Men like him without the benefit of a title usually wind up as women’s hired lovers.”
“But their clients are always satisfied,” Jess noted.
“Thatis a certainty.”
The carriage lurched into motion, and they were underway. As the vehicle rolled through the streets of Mayfair, Jess said to her companions, “Lord Trask seems to have a policy to only invite widows to be guests of the Bazaar.”
“Notwidows, plural,” Lady Haighe said. “Widow, singular. For years it was only myself. What a collection of sausages that drawing room was. This year,” she continued with a glint in her eyes, “I harangued and harassed Trask into inviting Lady Farris. I wanted married women and spinsters, too, but he immediately rejected the idea. Spinsters, he said, hadn’t enough capital to be of significance.”
“And with married women, it must have been the usual nonsense about a wife’s opinion being the same as her husband’s.” Jess rolled her eyes.
“Ha,” Lady Haighe barked. “In life, my husband knew better. He left all important decisions to the wisest one.” The lift of her chin clearly indicated that in her marriage,shehad been the most sagacious.
“An exceptional circumstance,” Lady Farris said. “Certainlynotthe rule.” She considered Jess. “What of you, Lady Whitfield? Are you finding widowhood to be a delight or a torment?”
“I categorically enjoy being on my own,” Jess said, which was true enough. Early in their courtship, she and Oliver had gotten along well. So well, in fact, that they had even slept together after they’d promised to marry. But after her parents had died, and Jess had taken over the responsibility of managing McGale &McGale, he’d grown sulky and resentful, demanding her attention for himself. Either she could put all of her focus on him, making herself into a good and subservient wife, or he would not wed her.
She had not been sorry to see their engagement end.
“There, now,” Lady Farris said, sitting back against the cushions. “I knew I liked you for a reason.”
A short while later, the carriage came to a stop on a busy street. The footman opened the door and handed all the passengers down from the vehicle.
They gathered in front of a bustling shop, and Jess noted a queue of well-dressed people snaking out of the door. The painted sign across the front of the shop readCatton’s, and a smaller sign advertised, “All goods made with East India sugar.” People bearing light blue boxes tied with brown satin ribbons left the shop with a triumphant air, as if they’d secured their portion of a dragon’s treasure.
A woman stood beside the door, her posture upright and full of confidence, her expression proprietary. Surely she had to be Mrs. Isabel Catton herself.
The duke approached her and they spoke quietly. A moment later, Mrs. Catton went inside, and the duke motioned for everyone to follow.
They made their way through the bustling shop, moving through the room full of crowded tables. Though there were some men seated there, the customers largely seemed to be women enjoying a pot of tea and plates of sweets whilst exchanging the latest gossip.
Mrs. Catton led the procession through the mainchamber and then down a corridor. She drew aside a velvet curtain to reveal a parlor with nearly a dozen tables arranged around the perimeter.
Jess’s attention shot to the silver platters in the center of each table. “Are those—?”
“Samples,” the duke said from behind her. “Oh, yes.” He rubbed his hands together, looking very much like a pirate on the verge of plundering.
Despite the shop’s aromas of sugar and butter, having the duke so close by filled her senses with his delicious scent—bergamot, apple, with just a hint of moss-covered oak. Her awareness was the unfortunate by-product of years she’d spent cultivating a discerning nose. She always tested the fragrance of McGale & McGale soap to ensure it wasn’t too overpowering or too faint. The proof that she’d done her job well was on her own skin.
But all fragrance altered depending on who wore it. There was something within a person’s particular composition that changed a scent, and whatever musky charm the duke exuded from his pores combined with his eau de toilette to make her light-headed as she walked ahead of him.
She wanted to lick him.
“I’m looking forward to it.”
Her gaze snapped to him. Was mind reading another of his ducal gifts? “Pardon?”
