Page 2 of Courting Scandal With The Duke
Barbara had no such intention. Never again would anyone bully her into marriage. She was going to make sure of it.
The carriage pulled up.
Aunt Lenore leaned forward to peer out of the window in the door. ‘Hah. Right outside. Well done, John Coachman. Come, Barbara. A few steps and we shall be out of this terrible weather.’
A footman opened the door and let down the steps.He held an umbrella over them as they made their way into the building.
In the cloakroom a throng of women were changing into dancing slippers and shedding wet cloaks. Aunt Lenore handed over her outer raiment and sat down to allow a maid help her on with her slippers.
Still in her cloak, Barbara squeezed onto a bench as far from her aunt as she could manage. She fiddled with the fastening of her shoe.
‘Barbara, are you ready?’ Aunt Lenore asked a few minutes later.
‘My buckle is caught. Go ahead. I will catch you up.’
Aunt Lenore hesitated. Then nodded. ‘Very well. I will present our tickets. Do not be too long. They will close the doors promptly at eleven.’
Other ladies were also hurrying. It wanted only a few minutes to eleven. The rain had made travel slower than normal. There were very few minutes to spare.
Perfect.
She slipped on her slippers and handed her cloak to the waiting maid.
The girl gasped.
‘Something amiss?’ Barbara asked, knowing very well why the girl looked as shocked as a lad with buckshot in his britches.
The girl swallowed, her eyes wide. ‘Nothing, miss.’
‘Milady,’ Barbara corrected. ‘Dowager Countess of Lipsweiger and Upsal, to be precise.’ Father had been so pleased about the title. Much good it had done him.
The girl didn’t seem the slightest bit impressed, butthen the British were notorious for their scorn of anything foreign.
She went to the mirror and tucked the two curling ostrich plumes she had sheltered from the rain inside her cloak into her elaborately dressed coiffure. ‘Perfect,’ she said and sashayed up the stairs to her waiting Aunt.
It was all going swimmingly.
She tried not to laugh.
Rules.
Pish posh.
From now on, they were for other people.
Xavier, Duke of Derbridge, regarded the company at Almack’s with cool uninterest.
No matter how he tried, he could not seem to summon up any enthusiasm. They were all so…dull.
Duller than ditch water.
Duller than a rainy day in March.
Duller than a blade used to cut bone.
Duller than a sermon.
Duller…
