Exquisitely pressed with his cravat expertly tied, Chance stared at the Gold embroidered waistcoat, tightly fitted black jacket and turned to inspect the tight fitting but somehow elegant trousers. Although Chance’s linen shirt had a flounce where it buttoned, he drew the line at lace about his wrists.
Aubrey likely would hardly recognize him.
He stepped out to the pavement at half past nine. It was not at all the thing to arrive right on time. And he didn’t bother with his carriage, either. The walk from Chauncey House was not a long one. As he neared Aubrey’s home, coaches lined the street several houses in both directions.
When he knocked, it was Carrington who opened the door. Of course, his former butler would not send Chance away.
“I’m here at the express invitation of Dandy Dick.” He offered.
Mr. Carrington smothered a grin, shaking his head, but opened the door wide for Chance to enter. “In the Large drawing room, Your Grace.”
“Why thank you, Mr. Carrington,” Chance handed over his top hat and cane.
Mr. Edwards had tied Chance’s cravat no less than seven times before deeming it acceptable and then insisted Chance wear every fashionable accessory known to mankind. Chance nearly laughed out loud as he fingered the item in his pocket, a very expensive monocle. It was almost as though his valet knew the nature of Chance’s mission for that evening.
Likely, the blasted man did. It seemed everyone in Mayfair knew his business these days.
Chance had visited Aubrey’s home a handful of times by now, and he’d done his fair share of looking through the windows more recently, but he’d not yet been inside while she was in residence. Knowing she could appear at any moment, he paused to take a deep breath to slow his racing heart. One hand on his jacket, he strolled casually along the foyer, occasionally lifting the ridiculous magnifier to his eye when anyone stared at him too long.
Piano Forte music drifted from the smaller setting room where a handful of guests listened politely, harmonizing pleasantly with the hum of conversation. Skirting around the edges, Chance made his way into the larger of the two public rooms where banter rose and fell, punctuated by occasional laughter.
When he stepped inside, he drew in a sharp breath.
Princesse, indeed.
Aubrey stood speaking to two middle aged ladies and a younger gentleman, nodding and smiling in a most welcoming manner. Her glorious hair had been swept up into an intricately braided coiffure with curls trailing onto her shoulders. The emerald velvet dress she wore was short sleeved with a low bodice, revealing more than a hint of the tops of her perfectly shaped bosoms.
Breasts that tasted of sunshine and begged to be laved, sucked, and teased.
By him. By Chance. And only Chance.
She must have sensed his presence in that moment, for she frowned and turned toward him at the same time he subdued his wayward thoughts. Forrest colored eyes held surprise and then displeasure, but Chance thought he saw something else flicker in them before she could hide it.
Excitement.
Secret Pleasure.
Or perhaps he was fooling himself.
Just when he decided she was going to ignore him again, she excused herself and made her way to where he stood.
“My salons are by invitation only, Your Grace.” She lifted her chin defiantly. Chance didn’t listen to her actual words but read the look in her eyes. Her cheeks were flushed, and by God, so was the pale flesh threatening to overflow from her bodice.
“Dandy Dick invited me.”
“Pardon?”
“Mr. Richard Cline.”
Tiny vertical lines appeared in her forehead. “He did not inform me.”
“Ah, well, he said you’d be more than pleased to have a duke for a guest. Said it would make invitations to your affairs even more sought after.”
His words didn’t goad her into arguing farther, as Chance thought they might. Instead, she glanced behind her and then up and beyond his shoulder.
“Why must you insist on… Can you not simply leave me alone? Surely you are not interested in hearing poetry.”
“Do you not discuss politics as well? Is not that a part of the purpose of your intellectual gatherings?”
