Page 19 of Must Love Dukes
“Again,” Muriel interrupted. “I tried to tell you, but you refused to listen.”
“Well, what should we think? You have rejected every attempt to find you a decent husband, concocting ridiculous reasons for refusing every gentleman I introduced you to. But Buxton appears enamored. Did you really meet him over meat pies?”
“I did.” The fact that it was earlier today at not in London wasn’t important.
“Todson is furious, by the way. He believes Lord Allred intentionally misled him.”
“He didn’t look terribly upset at supper, Mother Nora. Miss Scoggins held his attention. Todson never once looked in my direction.”
Nora’s fingers twitched in her skirts as she paced back and forth. “She’s a lovely girl.”
“Anygirl will do for Todson. At least admit it isn’tmehe wants.” She tugged at the blanket. “May I go to sleep now? I’m exhausted after the travel today and the lengthy meal. I must start on the duke’s portrait tomorrow.”
Dinner had been served buffet style, an endless table of food, one Buxton had taken full advantage of. Plate piled high with roasted venison, capons and potatoes, he’d taken a seat beside their host, Lord Savorton. An honored spot, given he was the only duke present. Muriel and her parents had been seated at a table quite some distance away, though she’d caught Buxton watching her, the green of his eyes glowing like gemstones when the light hit his face.
“I just find it rather impossible.”
“That’s rather unkind,” Muriel huffed.
“No other young lady has managed to garner Buxton’s interest. Not even Lady Fabel’s daughter, Lavinia, though everyone assumed the duke was going to offer for her.” Her gaze narrowed on Muriel. “I assume Buxton will approach Lord Allred given his obvious admiration for you.”
“I think he’ll wait until we return to London,” Muriel said carefully. “Buxton doesn’t care for the attention he receives. Nor gossip. And as you say, Lady Lavinia is here. He won’t want to embarrass Lord Fabel.”
“True,” Nora nodded. “True.”
“He is private, which is why I didn’t feel comfortable confessing his interest sooner. I’m sure he’ll speak to Father when we are in London and away from prying eyes.”
“Of course.” But Nora didn’t sound convinced. She came forward and pressed a kiss to Muriel’s temple. “Goodnight, dearest. Sleep well. I want you fresh for the duke tomorrow.”
“Muriel Bell?”
Hugh sipped his nightcap and stared out over the gardens, remembering Savorton’s surprise, murmured to him over the excellent roasted venison. And his host was not the only one. Lord Fabel, Lavinia’s father, had spent a great deal of time interrogating Hugh when the gentlemen had dispersed for cheroots and a brandy.
Good grief.
He’d never even kissed Lavinia, nor had he made any promises, and Lord Fabel acted as if Hugh had broken a betrothal with his daughter.
Hugh sipped his drink, scotch this time, and listened to the frogs croaking in Savorton’s pond. What he’d realized tonight,listening to the false platitudes sent his way, was that he much preferred Miss Bell’s company to nearly everyone else’s. She wasn’t impressed by his ducal status at all.
Perhaps that’s why he liked her so much.
Hugh’s parents had been a love match, a rarity in a world in which status and wealth took precedence over emotion. He’d already had a lifetime of being chased about by every attractive woman in theton. Once had kept two mistresses to satisfy his physical needs. But never, in all that time, had Hugh experienced any true…feeling. Not of the sort he’d witnessed between his parents. Their devotion to each other had been obvious to everyone.
Your mother spilled a glass of champagne on me. Made an unsatisfactory apology and sailed away, uncaring that I was a duke.
Hugh had come to this house party specifically because of Miss Bell. He could admit that now after seeing her again. He’d agreed to the ruse she’d concocted because not only would it give him more access to Miss Bell, but Hugh also didn’t want her betrothed to Todson.
He took another mouthful of scotch.
Hugh’s interest in Miss Bell was not pretense, something he’d realized halfway through his second plate of food this evening. He’d barely tasted the roasted capon, and he loved capon. She was not the most beautiful woman here—that title belonged to Lavinia. Nor the most well-bred. Her father was only moderately wealthy.
But Hughlikedher. More than a little. The stirring she evoked inside him hadn’t subsided, only grew fiercer. Even thinking of her, somewhere in this house, probably in some thin bit of cotton beneath the covers of a bed, aroused him.
Also, Hugh wanted to see what he’d look like with a radish for a nose.
It was as good a reason as any to be here.
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