Page 28 of Courting Scandal With The Duke
‘I am surprised we have heard nothing from the Duke since the day you rode out with him,’ Aunt Lenore said, sounding disappointed. She fiddled with the buttons on her gloves.
‘Why would you be surprised?’
Aunt Lenore pushed a grey ringlet back from her face then tugged it forward. ‘Oh, I don’t know. I would have thought at the very least he would have attended our at home the other day. I sent him a personal invitation.’
The at home had been the most boring event possible. ‘I am sure he has many more important matters requiring his attention than an afternoon at home.’
‘I have it on good authority that he is looking for a wife.’
‘Oh, my dear aunt. How could you even think that a man such as the Duke would be interested in a twice-married widow? It is beyond the realm of possibility.’
‘He danced with you at Almack’s. He invited you to go riding. What a triumph it would be if he should actually—’
‘I have it on good authority that he iscourting Miss Simon.’
Aunt Lenore frowned. ‘What authority?’
‘Your friend, Mr Elton. He seems to know everything about everyone and is happy to gossip about it too.’
‘Mr Elton. Pah. That man knows nothing but what people want him to believe. You mark my words, if you play your cards right, you could find yourself a duchess before the year is out.’
‘It being every woman’s wish to catch the Duke,’ Barbara said. ‘Or rather every woman except me. I have absolutely no wish to marry again. Not even if the Prince of Wales were to ask me.’
‘We will see what your father has to say about that, my dear.’
The maid stepped back with an enquiring expression.
Barbara nodded. ‘Perfect as always, Marion.’ She got to her feet and smiled at her aunt. ‘If you don’t mind, Aunt, I will finish my toilette and meet you downstairs.’
‘Very well.’ Lenore eyed the dress on the bed then gave a shake of her head, clearly knowing better than to argue about it. ‘The coach will be at the front door in half an hour.’
‘I will be ready.’
Once her aunt left, Barbara slipped out of her dressing robe, already attired in stays and petticoat. Marion helped her into the gown. It had been made by one of the foremost seamstresses in Paris and fitted her to perfection. It shimmered gold as it caught the lightand floated around her as she moved. It was indeed sumptuous.
And she had it on good authority that the Duke would indeed be present this evening.
While he had been rather stuffy about her showing up to his racing stables without a chaperone, he seemed to have accepted her explanation, something she had not expected. And to boot, he had made sure her reputation remained unsullied.
After thinking it over, she had decided that he must have thought she was setting her cap at him. Trying to trap him into marriage by being alone with him, then crying foul.
A man in his position must experience that sort of thing from ambitious women all the time. In this case, nothing could be further from the truth.
Clearly if she wanted his disapproval, she would need to create enough of a public stir to cause him to vilify her, thereby causing Society to turn their backs.
And she could not be too obvious about it either, or Father would see through her ruse.
After listening to her aunt talk about Society and what was acceptable and what was not, she had decided to start with small things and work up to one large faux pas—that would be the icing on the cake.
She stretched out a foot, admiring her golden sandals and red painted toenails.
Yes indeed, it was a very good thing her aunt had not enquired about her footwear. And thank goodness, for once itwas not raining.
She smiled with satisfaction. The red dress had been a start. These sandals would raise an eyebrow or two. And she would eventually figure out the one thing the Duke of Derbridge absolutely would not tolerate, and she would be out on her ear.
Once he, the leader of London Society, pronounced herpersona non grata, thetonwould never accept her again. Only then would she be free of Papa and hisideas.
A footman rapped on the door. ‘The carriage is waiting, my lady.’
