Page 54 of A Rogue to Resist
Before Katherine could respond, the Duke of Wexford approached them, a glass of brandy in each hand.
“Greythorne,” he said genially, offering one of the glasses to Drake. “I hope you’re enjoying the evening. I see you’ve had an opportunity to become acquainted with several eligible young ladies.”
“Your hospitality is most generous, Your Grace,” Drake replied diplomatically, accepting the brandy. “Lady Elizabeth, in particular, has been most attentive.”
“Excellent, excellent,” the duke said, his satisfaction evident. “She comes from an impeccable family. Her father and I are on several committees together—fine character, excellent bloodlines.”
Katherine made a small sound that might have been a suppressed snort. Both men turned to her with raised eyebrows.
“Forgive me,” she said, her expression too innocent to be believed. “Something caught in my throat. If you’ll excuse me, I believe Lady Ashford is signalling for my attention.”
She moved away with a rustle of silk skirts, leaving Drake momentarily bereft of her sharp-tongued company. He watched her cross the room, noting the elegant line of her neck and the proud set of her shoulders beneath deep blue silk.
“My sister seems to have developed a genuine interest in Greythorne’s welfare,” the duke observed, following Drake’s gaze. “She speaks frequently of the improvements you’re implementing.”
Drake dragged his attention back to his host. “Lady Katherine’s knowledge of the estate has proven invaluable. Her concern for the tenants, in particular, is commendable.”
“Indeed.” The duke studied Drake thoughtfully. “Though I trust her involvement won’t complicate your eventual marriage. Some ladies might find such an arrangement unusual.”
There was a subtle warning in the duke’s tone that Drake couldn’t miss. Wexford was concerned that Katherine’s continued involvement with Greythorne might create tensions with Drake’s future countess.
The irony nearly made Drake laugh aloud. If only the duke knew that his carefully orchestrated presentation of eligible young ladies had only served to highlight how vastly superior Katherine was to every one of them.
“Any lady I choose will understand my respect for Lady Katherine’s expertise,” Drake replied carefully. “The welfare of Greythorne and its people takes precedence over conventional arrangements.”
The duke looked mildly surprised at this declaration. “A progressive view. Though I suppose your years in America have given you a different perspective on such matters.”
“They have indeed,” Drake agreed, grateful for the convenient explanation for his unconventional attitudes. “I’vefound that valuing competence over convention generally yields better results.”
Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Lady Elizabeth, who seemed determined not to allow Drake to escape her attention for long.
“Your Grace, Lord Greythorne,” she greeted them with a perfect curtsy. “I hope I’m not intruding?”
“Not at all, my dear,” the duke assured her warmly. “In fact, I was just about to suggest that Greythorne show you the collection of miniatures in the small gallery. My late mother was an avid collector—some quite remarkable pieces.”
Drake recognized the transparent attempt to provide them with a chaperoned but relatively private opportunity for conversation. Under other circumstances, he might have appreciated the duke’s efforts. Tonight, they merely reminded him of the trap slowly closing around him.
“I would be delighted,” Lady Elizabeth said, turning expectant eyes to Drake.
Refusing would be unconscionably rude, particularly to his host.
With a resigned internal sigh, Drake offered his arm to Lady Elizabeth. “It would be my pleasure.”
As she placed her hand on his arm with obvious satisfaction, Drake glanced across the room to find Katherine watching them, her expression carefully blank. Only the slight tightening of her fingers around her fan betrayed any emotion.
For reasons he chose not to examine too closely, that small sign of displeasure gave him a perverse satisfaction.
The small gallery was adjacent to the drawing room, offering the illusion of privacy while remaining visible enough to satisfy propriety. Lady Elizabeth moved close to the glass-frontedcabinet that housed the miniatures, exclaiming over their beauty while Drake made appropriate responses on autopilot.
His attention, however, remained in the drawing room, where he could see Katherine now engaged in conversation with Lord Barrington. The older man was leaning toward her with obvious interest, and though Katherine’s posture remained perfectly correct, she appeared to be listening attentively to whatever he was saying.
An unexpected surge of possessiveness took Drake by surprise. The idea of Katherine with another man—even one as harmless and proper as Lord Barrington—was strangely intolerable.
“Don’t you agree, Lord Greythorne?” Lady Elizabeth’s voice penetrated his distraction.
Drake realized he had no idea what she had been saying. “Forgive me, Lady Elizabeth. My thoughts were momentarily elsewhere.”
She followed his gaze back to the drawing room, her pretty features arranged in a small moue of disappointment when she identified the object of his distraction.
