Page 18 of Must Love Dukes
A sound came from her, a curse aimed at him.
“Why, Miss Bell,” he whispered, lips touching the curve of her ear. “Such language.”
“I should have begged Epcot for help. You’re quite terrible.” But there was no bite to her words. “Possibly, Iwilluse a cabbage.”
“Far too late for Mr. Epcot, Miss Bell. I fear we are stuck with each other now,” he purred along the side of her neck, satisfied when she gave a small shiver. “Lady Swindon,” he greeted the woman before him.
Lord Swindon’s wife was a lovely woman, but with four daughters to marry off, she was also desperate. Lady Swindon had been stalking Hugh at every society event he’d attended over the last year, marching out one of her girls after another, hopingone might suit him. None of them did. Still, he admired her pluck.
“Your Grace.” Lady Swindon lowered herself.
“Your Grace.” Her daughter—he thought this one was named Ariana—didthe same. Hugh couldn’t tell the girls apart. Each one was blonde. Petite. Blue eyes the size of dinner plates. And every name began with an A, which increased the difficulty.
“You recall my daughter, Lady Ariana, do you not?”
“I do.” The girl beamed up at him. “A pleasure to see you again, Lady Ariana. This is Miss Bell.” He nodded to Muriel who still held his arm. He didn’t bother to add anything further. The fact he’d guided Miss Bell about the room was enough to declare his interest.
“Miss Bell.” Lady Swindon assessed her with a narrowed look, disappointment coloring her features. “Lord Allred’s daughter. I am acquainted with Lady Allred.”
“A pleasure to meet you, my lady.” Miss Bell bobbed politely, releasing Hugh’s arm. “Lady Ariana.”
“Lady Allred led me to believe—well.” She smiled prettily. “I suppose it no longer matters.”
“Indeed not.” Hugh took Miss Bell’s fingers and placed them back on his arm.
Lady Swindon’s face took on a more beleaguered cast as she weighed Lady Ariana’s chances of pulling Hugh’s attention from Miss Bell. Eventually she made a soft sigh, bobbed politely, and dragged her daughter away.
“Good job, Miss Bell. Raising your skirts did the trick.”
She frowned at him. “Not much was required of me. A worshipful look while I clutched your arm. Politeness. Frankly, not much of a challenge. Had I not witnessed your situation earlier, I’d have thought you overestimated your appeal.”
Such a sharp tongue.
One he longed to taste, along with Miss Bell. She smelled of wildflowers and…charcoal. A hint of paint. As if she’d drawn a portrait or two before entering the drawing room. Maybe one of Savorton’s footmen, resembling a rutabaga or a turnip. The scent, on her at least, was strangely arousing.
He took in the curve of her ear and the tiny golden-brown hairs beneath, wanting very much to stroke that island of skin. Perhaps…press his lips to that very spot. The attraction to Miss Bell had only grown since their brief meeting in the taproom. He’d been right to come. Hugh adored a good surprise.
And Miss Bell certainly qualified.
Once a second circuit of the room was completed, Hugh returned Miss Bell to Lord and Lady Allred with a polite bow. “You’ve promised to paint my portrait,” he said, loud enough to be overheard by those standing nearby. “I think we should get started tomorrow.”
“I would be delighted, Your Grace,” Miss Bell replied. “Tomorrow.”
6
“Explain this instant, Muriel.” Nora paced back and forth across the rug. “How on earth did you meet the Duke of Buxton and why on earth wouldn’t you tell me?”
“I informed you my affections were firmly fixed.” Muriel was enjoying this far too much. “I tried to explain, and you laughed at me.”
“Why not just come out and say you’d gained the duke’s interest?”
“You wouldn’t have believed me.”
She yawned and slid her feet beneath the covers of the bed. The room was small, barely enough space for a bed and dresser, but nicely appointed and comfortable. The Savorton estate boasted so many guestrooms that Muriel hadn’t even been asked to share, which was rather unexpected.
Honestly, the entire day had been…unexpected.
“I…well, it is possible I wouldn’t have. But the Duke of Buxton?” She turned and paced back across the rug once more. “He is the most sought-after man in London. Handsome.Wealthy.” Nora threw up her hands. “He is Buxton. Obviously, we would not have introduced you to Todson had we thought?—”
