Page 24 of An Unwanted Widow for the Duke
But love?
For a fleeting moment, she wondered whether she had, without even noticing, already abandoned the hope of ever knowing such a thing.
Chapter Six
“Must we strut about like peacocks?” Gerard muttered, his jaw tight. “Half the ladies look as though they cannot breathe in their gowns.”
He had come to Lord Edgecomb’s musicale, but rather than join the sparkling chatter, he lingered in the shadows at the back, feigning interest in the performances.
In truth, his thoughts were elsewhere.
Hector.
His boy was a dear child, though prone to mischief. Gerard trusted Mrs. Everly and Miss Elliot to keep him in check, but even so, he wondered what devilry Hector might be attempting that evening.
Dragging his gaze back to the gilt-edged room, Gerard surveyed the throng. The gaudy decorations and simpering conversations tested his patience.
Did none of them tire of such artifice? To smile and flatter in public, only to scheme and quarrel in private?
“Smile, Gerard.” Samuel clapped him on the back. “If you scowl any harder, the chandeliers will drop out of sheer terror. Let the ladies have their feathers and lace; life’s dreary enough without a bit of sparkle.”
Gerard shot him a look. “I do not begrudge pleasure. What I cannot abide are those who preen only to belittle others. There is no honor in it.”
“I understand. Yes, some people are like that,” Samuel said smoothly. “But we are here for you, and you must enjoy yourself. Some of these people genuinely admire you, and they’ll be overjoyed to see you among them.”
“They don’t truly admire me, Sam. We both know it,” Gerard scoffed. “They admire my title, my fortune, and the supposed prospect of marriage.”
“Supposed prospect? You are verymucheligible,” Samuel reminded him cheerfully, nodding toward the crowd.
“We didn’t even arrive in time to hear the music,” Gerard muttered. “And this is a musicale.”
Their delay was justified. First, he could not leave Hector unattended after the boy’s earlier escapade. Second, he had lingered deliberately, hoping to shorten the evening’s ordeal. He still remembered the last gathering he had hosted, and the exhausting parade of pleasantries it had required.
“Ah, see there! Interest is stirring. There is hope for you yet! The host has arranged a private performance for a select few,” Samuel said with a grin.
Gerard grumbled but moved in step with his friend, scanning the room with a practiced, half-hearted glance. His eyes settled on a familiar figure.
Lady Slyham.
The woman who had single-handedly put him at the center of several women’s attention was right here. He had thought that he would not see her until the Hawthorne ball. In fact, he didn’t know how to behave around her.
They were not even supposed to know each other.
She stood with a cluster of men, one of whom was a young gentleman not much older than her. He turned, and Gerard caught his profile.
Daniel Brighton,the Marquess of Grisham.
Gerard had met the young Marquess once at White’s.
Grisham laughed, a rich, easy sound that carried across the room, his eyes bright and twinkling. He stood too close to Lady Slyham.
Gerard’s eyes narrowed as he noticed the subtle contact—Grisham’s hand resting lightly on her elbow.
A pang of something unfamiliar stirred within him. He did not like it.
“Come along, Sam,” he urged, his eyes fixed on the group.
“Mhm,” Samuel murmured, arching an eyebrow with a sly grin. “Did you finally spot someone worth the trouble in this feathered assembly?”
