Page 40 of Ne'er Duke Well
He dropped her hands to wrestle with the oars and came up holding something long and covered in green silk.
A parasol, she realized. Lady Georgiana’s parasol.
He grinned at her, and this time it was the real thing, that shiny impossible Kent grin. “You’re going to stand in between me and this very large decorative object. I told Georgiana to instruct my driver to pull up as close to the dam as he can. And if we walk very fast, no one is going to suspect a thing.”
Chapter 10
… Tell me again why it is that no one listens to my superb instructions.
—from Selina to her brother Will, again
At the Townshends’ dinner party, Selina suffered through eight courses with Lydia seated four chairs down and across the table from her. Veal consommé. Glazed ham. Quail. Asparagus in butter. Summer peas.Des tendrons de veau aux carottes.
Selina thought she might scream. She was just close enough for her to watch Lydia converse—haltingly, but at least vomit-free—with Peter beside her. Close enough to watch the play of Peter’s elegant fingers on his wineglass.
Too far for her to hear what the two of them were saying. And much too far for her to clutch Lydia’s hand and demand to know whether she thought Peter was on the verge of proposing.
He’d inexplicably stopped calling on Georgiana, but he’d kept up his attentions toward Lydia and Iris Duggleby this last week. He hadn’t done a single thing that had even whispered of scandal.
Selina chewed on her lower lip and made tiny designs in her lemon ice with her spoon. A cross. An X. A little V that looked like a heart.
They had five days left until the dinner party at Rowland House with Lord and Lady Eldon that Daphne and Nicholas had managed to arrange. She’d hoped he’d be able to announce an engagement there, and she and Thomasin had conspired to leave an empty place for his future bride. In fact, part of her had rather hoped Peter might have already married by special license by the time the dinner party came around.
But so far, Peter hadn’t proposed to anyone.
There were three weeks remaining until the Stanhope guardianship case came before the Court of Chancery, and devil take him, if he wanted to present a picture-perfect future family to the Eldons, the man needed toget moving.
And if, when she thought about Peter on one knee before Lydia or Iris, she felt a spiked tangle of feelings rise in her, she forced it back down and refused to let herself think about why that might be.
She could not think about wanting him, about the flip of need in her lower belly when she watched him slide a finger along the edge of his plate.
The dreams were bad enough as it was.
Isaac Villeneuve to her side said something about the weather, and she gave him a wordless glare. He stopped talking.
When the last course was taken away by a bevy of footmen, Selina nearly overturned her chair in her haste to make her way over to Lydia. From several places down, Aunt Judith arched an eyebrow.
Selina refused to be chastened and arrowed straight for her friend.
“Well?” she said when she reached Lydia’s side.
Lydia blinked up at her, several white feathers twining through her red curls. “Well?” she repeated.
“Stanhope, for goodness’ sake. I saw you speaking at dinner.”
“Ah,” Lydia said. “Yes. We talked about Brougham’s campaign in—”
“Lydia!” Selina’s voice was a whisper-shriek.
Lydia’s feathers bobbed in surprise. “Er… yes?”
“What ofmarriage? Did you speak of your—” She found herself hesitating on the words, and forced herself to spit them out. “Of your future life together?”
Lydia’s brows drew together in surprise as she looked up at Selina. And then, quite deliberately, she rolled her eyes.
“Lyddie,” Selina hissed, “what does that mean?”
“I know you dislike your plans going awry, but it’s not going to happen.”
