Page 16 of The Odd Riddle of the Lost Duchess
The waltz ended, and Noah leaned into her ear and whispered, “Use your prodigious imagination.”
Emmeline cocked her head to the side in confusion and a bit of aggravation.Why does he have to be so mysterious?
Seeing her confusion, the Duke smiled and rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand. A man approached them and after greeting her formally, he asked something of Noah–an acquaintance, Emmeline assumed–but the Duke ignored him for a few moments before bowing to her, and then addressing the man.
Lady Alford smirked at Emmeline as she rejoined her chaperone. “What a lovely couple you make, my dear!”
“Aunt Catherine!” hissed Emmeline. “It really cannot come to anything.”
As gossip was prone to spread through the society grapevines like wildfire, the loud comment was made after looking around for any eavesdroppers–which happily, were many.
“We shall see, my dear. We shall see,” boasted her Aunt.
* * *
At a table across the room, the Dowager Duchess of Newberry gawped at her grandson, “Miriam!”
The Duchess sighed, before attending to whatever had upset her mother-in-law, “Yes, Mother?”
“Miriam! If I am not wrong, is that chit standing with Lady Alford a dratted Grant?” the Dowager Duchess demanded.
“I believe so,” the Duchess squinted. She frowned, recognizing some resemblance to Lady Emmeline Grant, “It appears so, Mother,” she muttered.
“I will not have it!” the Dowager Duchess snapped. “Does Noah not know our history? Put a stop to it at once! He cannot have anything to do with her! Remember, until I die I have a commanding power over his office!”
The Duchess barely stopped herself from clenching her jaw. Before the Dowager Duchess’ husband had died, he—on a stroke of madness, Miriam was sure—had given Sally control over many aspects of the Dukedom. It was an unheard of situation and it had thrown the view of power into contest, but it had been written into law and therefore, some documents couldn’t even be ratified without her signature. It was one that Miriam knew irked Noah to no end but until Sally died, there wasn’t much he could do about it.
“I will see to it,” the Duchess promised.
* * *
Ann noticed the Duke of Newberry standing by the staircase alone, watching Emmeline twirl with her dance partners. Even while she was dancing, Ann had noticed him. Over the course of the long night, the Duke’s eyes had never strayed from Emmeline for too long.
Emmeline’s sentiments for the Duke were also an indication for Ann to attempt to bring them together. She was, after all, Emmeline’s bosom friend and wanted the best match for her.
Walking to the staircase, knowing Lady Alford’s eyes were on her, Ann decided to converse with the Duke of Newberry. “Are you enjoying your evening, Your Grace?”
The Duke inclined his head, his eyes on Emmeline, who was now dancing with Lord Fletcher.
“Yes, indeed, Miss Benwick,” the Duke of Newberry said stiffly. His words were in contrast with his body language.
Ann followed his gaze knowingly, “Does not Emmeline look wonderful? She has enraptured many tonight.”
The Duke did not appear happy to hear that. He extended his hand to Ann, “Will you do me the pleasure of this dance, Miss Benwick?”
Not entirely surprised, Ann agreed. Unlike Emmeline, she knew the workings of the male mind quite well.
* * *
Not far from the couple, the Duke of Leverton watched Miss Benwick walk to the dance floor with the Duke of Newberry. He felt a strange fury rise within him but controlled it under a stoic veneer.
Why is he so appealing to all the ladies here? Is that disgusting Newberry not satisfied with the women he’d already spoiled? Can he not leave respectable ladies alone?
Last season, when George had seen Miss Benwick after many years, she had blossomed from an irritating little girl into a stunning beauty and many men mistook Miss Ann Benwick’s charm as an invitation to be pursued. He found himself irritated whenever Miss Benwick flirted with every gentleman but him, and he felt his insides tighten every time she was around him.
George had danced with Miss Benwick because the latter had dared him to do so. It had devolved into an argument about one of her suitors–Viscount St. Vincent–a complete rake who had been pursuing Miss Benwick, declaring that he wanted to send her a proposal when George knew the Viscount was making similar promises to another debutante. Miss Benwick had not believed him, saying that George was merely jealous of the Viscount’s attempts.
In the months during his sire’s illness, George had refrained from courting her as he was still perplexed about his feelings for his sister’s friend. When she had come to the funeral, they treated each other with polite indifference but they both remembered that last incident. Miss Benwick’s harsh accusation still echoed in George’s ears now, even as he felt pure jealousy consume him to see her dancing with another.
