“If you are talking about Prim, I must admit she is an admirable strategist.”
At that exact moment, Prim raised her head, looking around before landing her soft, warm brown eyes on him. Leo smiled that side smirk of his in response, and she nodded as if she wasreminded of a task. She crossed the hall to him while Edwin went to ask Abigail for a dance.
“I congratulate you on your success,” Leo said.
“I feel as if I had been running,” Prim responded.
“Dealing with the marriage mart of the season can be taxing. A refreshment? A good excuse to avoid dancing.”
“Please,” Prim nodded.
Leo offered her his arm and guided her to the exquisite room dedicated to a variety of exotic refreshments on a table shaped to look like a tree.
“There you are,” Leo offered her a glass.
“Thank you, Your Grace.”
They drank in silence, as Prim glanced to her sister spinning gracefully on the dance floor.
“I see that Camilla is swirling with Lord Dennington,” Leo noted. “He seemed quite insistent on putting his name onyourcard.”
“He was annoyingly so,” Prim huffed. “Even when I said I had my card reserved for you.”
“He has been like this with me ever since Eton.”
“Do not tell me I am caught in some tedious contest of male vanity,” Prim exasperated.
“There is no contest,” Leo narrowed his eyes, his voice low. “I always win.”
“Right, I forgot,” Prim’s response dripped sarcasm. “Speaking about suitors of mine, Abigail proposed an alternative.”
“Did she? I fail to see a better alternative than me,” Leo teased, “but do go on.”
“She said that the Duke of Greyhaven is reentering society with the sole purpose of finding a wife. Abigail suggested that we’d be… compatible.”
“I was not aware that Nathaniel was back. He is a decent man indeed.”
Leo took the glass from Prim’s hand and gave it to a passing waiter.
“Your Grace?” Prim questioned.
“No time better than now,” Leo wrapped Prim’s arm around his. “Let’s go welcome the Duke.”
Prim didn’t even get the chance to disagree since Leo walked with those slow, confident strides to the corner where Nathaniel Winslow was standing. And it seemed that this was all he was doing. The Duke of Greyhaven, a man who could brag that was as tall as Leo, stood like a marble statue, merely absorbing the ball around him.
“Greyhaven!” Leo approached. “Your return to society lacks the certain fanfare expected from a Duke.”
Nathaniel turned to look at him, a bored expression on his face. The Duke acknowledged Leo with the same intensity a botanist would recognize the most common of species.
“Fanfare is a waste of energy, and more your area of expertise,” Nathaniel said, articulating clearly each syllable, his voice a smooth whisper.
“Your estate’s fresh air did nothing for your temperament, Greyhaven.”
“Air does not correlate to personality, Mildenhall. You’d be living in perpetual hurricane.”
Leo heard Prim stifle a laugh next to him. He frowned. Did she find that dry remark funny?
“Allow me to introduce you to Miss Jenkins. Miss Jenkins, the Duke of Greyhaven”
