Page 19 of Her Sort of Scoundrel
“Stop teasing,” Fiona chastised playfully. “It’s simply a nice dress.”
The sky-blue satin was a Worth-designed confection, and it was indeed new. She’d been saving it for an upcoming charity ball, but she adored the feel of it. The square-cut bodice and lavishly beaded skirt accentuated her figure in ways that made her feel confident.
Cecily offered Fiona a cordial from a passing servant’s tray and assessed her as she took a sip. “Is it alright that I seated you next to the earl for dinner?”
“Of course,” Fiona said quickly.
She could handle dinner conversation with Granford. They’d chatted so intently when she’d visit the Forbes household years ago that his mother had sometimes seated them apart, just to force them to focus on anyone else.
Plus, sitting next to him would provide an opportunity to show Cecily they were merely friends, and that was all they’d ever be. Perhaps then the mischievous glint in her friend’s eyes whenever they spoke of the man would dim.
“Why are you smiling?” Cecily asked with a soft smile of her own.
“Just remembering something.”
“You have many good memories that involve Granford?”
“How do you know it has anything to do with him?” Good grief. Was everyone intent on matchmaking?
“Well, did it?”
“Yes,” Fiona admitted ruefully.
In truth, he hadn’t been far from her mind since their last conversation. Mostly, so that she could sort out her feelings and face the practical reality of what they could be to each other, and what they could not. And with that all settled, she could move on. She could sit next to him, converse with him, and acknowledge that she’d once wanted him—hungered for him, in truth—but that was in the past.
She felt quite resolved.
Aside from that anxious flutter whenever their gazes clashed across Cecily’s drawing room.
“Should I intervene?” Cecily asked as she indicated the spot where Lord Preswick and Miss Forbes sat conversing, one in a damask-covered chair, the other at the end of a gilded settee.
“I’m keeping an eye out for now,” Fiona told her. “But I do think the man needs to be warned off. I’ll not see the poor girl tethered to a nobleman his age before she’s even had her debut.”
“He’s been unwed for so many years and never seems interested in remarrying. Perhaps they’ve merely discovered some topic of mutual interest.”
“Oh, they have. That’s why I’m allowing this.” Fiona leaned in and whispered near her friend’s ears. “Entomology.”
Cecily’s eyes widened. “I beg your pardon.”
“He’s a butterfly collector, and he’s renowned for the size of his apiary.”
“I had no idea.” Cecily’s eyes sparkled as she glanced at Fiona. “How exactly do you know about the size of his apiary?”
“Through innocent means, I assure you.” Fiona winked at her friend. “I attended a country house party with him, and he gave out little jars of honey to everyone. And spent every conversation talking about the greatness of his bees.”
“Well, that is rather interesting,” Cecily said with utter sincerity. She was an animal lover herself, and Fiona suspected her sympathies could easily be turned to bugs too. Then the duchess frowned. “But what does that have to do with Miss Forbes? Is she a bee fancier?”
“All insects interest her.” Granford’s deep voice sent ribbons of heat down Fiona’s spine, like the stroke of warm fingertips.
“How charming,” Cecily said with a grin.
“Please do consider telling her that if you’re so inclined, Duchess. I’m afraid she sees it as an interest that might put others off.”
“Clearly, it hasn’t put Preswick off,” Fiona pointed out. The easy rapport between the two had been noted by all.
“He is rather monopolizing her,” Granford murmured, his gaze locked on where the two sat conversing. “Though it keeps Wolverhampton from moving in, and I don’t mind keeping Aurelia from his sort.”
“His sort?” Cecily asked with one auburn brow arched.
