Mocking humor danced in Oliver's eyes. “How fast you protested, Basil.”
Ignoring him, James said to Brandon. “I thought your sister was an heiress? Let thetonknow of it, and Miss Armstrong will have her husband in no time.”
“She is,” Brandon confirmed, his voice tight with frustration. “However, she does not want anyone to know of her wealth for fear of attracting fortune hunters. Bette wants to be liked and admired for her willful and opinionated character!”
Despite Brandon’s evident frustration, James detected the underlying affection and respect he held for his sister. The way she felt resonated with James’s own desires a few years ago when he had foolishly thought he could marry—to be appreciated for his character rather than his wealth. This unexpected revelation fostered a peculiar sense of kinship toward Elizabeth Armstrong. Still, he pinned Brandon a hard stare and said, “Then she will navigate thetonhow she sees fit. It has nothing to do with me.”
“By your own admission, the lady was defending her dignity,” Radbourne drawled, his eyes bright with humor. “The duchess was too harsh, even if she did not know someone was there to overhear her remarks.”
An irritated grunt left James, and he stood, walking over to the mantle to refill his glass. Something told him he would need it, especially as he felt a prick of something elusive at the very thought of seeing her once again.
Bloody hell, what nonsense is this?
“You know it is the best solution,” Ambrose persisted gently, trying to mediate the situation. “All the eligible men will start to think that Miss Armstrong is a very good catch if you dance with her once. A second dance will soar her popularity. An outing to the royal museum with Brandon and Miss Armstrong will cement the fact that she has noteworthy connections. Being seen with you will help restore what is lost.”
“I doubt Miss Armstrong will appreciate anything from me. You did not see the fire in her eyes,” he murmured, looking down into the glass as if it would answer his silent demand as to why his damn heart was quickening.
“Will you help?” Brandon asked.
“Any one of us can do this,” James said, lifting the glass to his mouth.
He felt the weight of their expectations, and his resistance waned as he pondered the potential impact of such a gesture—not just for Elizabeth but for his own sense of integrity. She was wounded because of his mother’s thoughtless words. He would crush anyone who hurt his sister or mother, so he understood the battle lines she had drawn.
Recalling the defiant anger in Miss Armstrong’s eyes, a rush of admiration for her mettle and sheer outrageousness filled him.
“I will help,” he said softly, wondering at the sharp thump of anticipation.
He lowered his glass to the mantle and turned around as the door opened, and an attendant told him that a courtesan was awaiting him in his preferred room. James bid his friends farewell, his mouth quirking when Radbourne wished that his cock would be wrung dry by most decadent lips and may his body be sated and his sleep dreamless.
His friends were truly damn rakes and libertines, and they were men he was not afraid to admit he loved like brothers. James approached the door that had been tastefully decorated according to his preferences by the madam of Aphrodite, a nod to his status and the regard in which he was held. He entered the private chamber and quietly closed the door behind him, enveloped by a sense of curiosity and anticipation. Tonight, he found himself unusually eager for the evening’s entertainment, hoping it would deviate from the usual and perhaps ignite something new.
Dark blue eyes with that fire in them sparked his thoughts, and he hissed in annoyance that she would once again intrude upon them.
What the hell was this nonsense?
James had long decided that young, innocent ladies, no matter how intriguing, were not to occupy his thoughts. And as was his way with anything that didn’t align with his lifestyle, he decisively cut her from his awareness, setting aside any lingering curiosity as ruthlessly as he managed all unsuitable entanglements.
CHAPTER4
Afew nights after pledging to aid Miss Armstrong in salvaging her reputation, James found himself chuckling with a sense of dark amusement. He held the latest scandal sheet, which brazenly included his full name—a rare and bold move by the gossip-hungry press.
Dear Esteemed Readers,
It seems not every lady in thetonfawns over one of society’s most decadent and charming dukes. This author has it on the highest authority that a young lady, newly arrived to our shores and not yet acquainted with the delicate intricacies of our society, publicly
shunned the Duke of Basil during a recent soirée/ball. The incident has set tongues wagging across the city, and many are deeply upset by this breach of decorum. Consequently, the swirling rumors now suggest that numerous drawing room doors might soon be firmly shut against Miss A.
This author, ever a supporter of the underdog and a lover of vibrant spirits, would hate to see such a promising newcomer ostracized from our illustrious gatherings. One cannot help but wonder about the nature of the disagreement that led to such a public spectacle. Was this truly a simple misunderstanding, or is there more to the story than meets the eye?
In light of these events, I extend an invitation to my well-informed readers: Should you possess any delightful details or insights into why these battle lines were drawn, please do not hesitate to send them my way. Rest assured, I will sift through the submissions with the utmost discretion and select only the most enlightening tidbits to share.
Stay tuned, dear readers, as we continue to uncover the layers of this intriguing drama. Your interest and contributions make our society pages the first stop for scintillating and essential gossip.
Yours in curiosity and ever faithful in providing the most tantalizing of gossip,
Lady C,
The Daily Gossip
