Page 20 of Falling Into Bed with a Duke
“Oh, my dear Lord, you might have been eaten,” Lady Honoria exclaimed. “What a ghastly way togo!”
Ashebury lifted a shoulder laconically and tilted his head slightly in a manner that implied he’d never doubted he would be the victor. Arrogant man. Minerva didn’t know why she found that so appealing.
“Its roar still echoing around us, we sprung into action and readied our rifles.” Mr. Alcott lifted his arms, leaned forward slightly, lowered his hands and his voice. “Unexpectedly, the great beast went completely and absolutely still. A hush settled over the grasslands. Then we heard a muffled cry. ‘For God’s sake, get him off me!’ Locksley and I rushed forward. Somehow Ashe had managed to pull his knife from its scabbard and kill the creature.” He straightened. “Not before it got its teeth into his shoulder unfortunately.”
As the ladies sitting near Ashebury fluttered their hands and looked on the verge of swooning, he slowly rubbed his hand over his left shoulder. Minerva wondered if he were even aware of the action. Then a corner of his mouth hitched up. “But I got my photograph.”
“Indeed you did,” Mr. Alcott admitted. “And a splendid one it is.”
There was such pride reflected in Ashebury’s tone, in his mien. Minerva couldn’t help but wonder if he would have exhibited the same satisfaction if he’d had success in convincing her to pose last night. Had he wanted the photograph of her as badly as he’d wanted the one of the lion? Not that he’d come anywhere near to placing his life at risk, but he’d spoken so passionately about the human form. She had to wonder now if he’d been terribly disappointed by her refusal to give in to his request. Or was the evening simply one of many? Had he already forgotten Lady V? Although he’d claimed that he wouldn’t seek a substitute, she couldn’t help but believe that he would have found someone to replace her quite easily, someone more adventurous, less prudish. She’d always taken such pride in her willingness to explore opportunities, to engage in new experiences. In hindsight, she couldn’t be more disappointed in herself.
“You must have been so terrified,” Lady Sarah said, breathlessly, both hands pressed to her chest, drawing Ashebury’s eyes to her cleavage. The duke, blast him, grinned wickedly at Lady Sarah and her heaving bosom, and Minerva fought back a spark of jealousy as she wondered if he might want to photograph those ample orbs.
“Petrified,” he admitted cockily, “but then I realized that if I didn’t take some action I’d never get back to England, and it became quite clear rather quickly that neither Edward nor Locke were going to be of much assistance.”
“You had to be incredibly strong to kill the awful beast,” Lady Angela said.
“Incredibly so. Perhaps you’d like to test my muscles later.”
Lady Angela turned red as a beet, her face splotchy, looking as though she’d broken out in hives. She never had been one to blush becomingly.
“That will be quite enough of that bawdy talk,” Lady Greyling admonished, coming to her feet. It had always amazed Minerva that she could so easily control the hellions. “Refreshments are waiting for us in the main salon, along with the displays of Ashe’s photographs. Let’s make our way there, shall we?”
Ladies began to rise and join the gentlemen. Ashebury sinuously shoved himself away from the wall, so very slowly as though he were mimicking the great cat that he had killed. Minerva had seen lions on display at the zoological gardens, knew their graceful movements. She couldn’t imagine the terror of facing one in the wilds.
“I’m going to make my way to Lovingdon,” Grace said, touching her arm, obviously wanting her attention.
“Yes, all right. I’ll catch up with you in a bit.”
Grace departed. Minerva considered making her way to Ashebury to commend him on his quick thinking, his strength, his ability to stare death in the face and come out the victor, but two ladies approached him, and he graciously offered each an arm, then began escorting them from the room. Last night for a few fleeting moments, he’d been hers.
“I wonder where Lord Locksley is?” Lady Sarah mused, holding Minerva back as though she had the answer.
“Is he the reason you’re here?” Minerva asked.
With a little wobble of her head, Sarah sighed. “Well, yes, I have to admit to being somewhat curious about him. He always makes an appearance in Mr. Alcott’s stories and yet he so seldom attends any social functions.”
“Why the interest?”
“Because he’s mysterious, and I’m fascinated by mysteries. Besides, aren’t you fascinated by the lords of Havisham? They’re so adventuresome and brave and—”
“They’re indulged,” Minerva cut in, as they wandered from the room and into the hallway. “People let them do whatever they want with no consequence. Other than Greyling, I don’t think any of them are seeing to their duties. How can they when they’re always traipsing about the world?”
“But their parents were killed in that awful railway accident.”
“A lot of parents were killed.” Sisters, brothers, sons, and daughters. Not that Minerva had any recollection of the event. She’d been a child, yet all these years later, people still spoke of the awfulness of it, especially when the hellions were about.
“They were left to fend for themselves,” Lady Sarah said, as though they’d been abandoned on the streets with no means whatsoever.
“Hardly,” Minerva stated. “They had a roof over their heads, food in their bellies, clothes on their backs.”
“But they ran wild over the moors. No one cared about them.”
Minerva had heard those stories as well. Mr. Alcott had an entire reservoir of mishaps to share at dinner parties. “I believe Mr. Alcott embellishes.”
“You’re no fun at all.”
Worse things had been said of her. They walked into the parlor. “Why? Because I want the facts?”
