Genevieve woke up the next morning and stretched in contentment. She had been confident when she left the ball last night that Argyle would have no choice but to abide by her demands, thus putting her back ahead in the game.
But when her maid entered with her breakfast tray and she asked if there had been any deliveries for her that morning, the girl had shaken her head. “I’m sorry, my lady, but there is nothing. Were you expecting anything?”
Genevieve’s spirits fell. “No. Nothing.” However, she quickly rallied. Perhaps it was too soon to expect much. She had thrown down a gauntlet at his feet, so it would take some time before he resigned himself to her demands. But surely a single rose wouldn’t have been amiss.
She froze. What if she’d gone too far and he decided he was going to wash his hands of her?
Her heart started to pound with panic. This wouldn’t do.
She quickly got out of bed and rang for her maid. She needed to stay busy so she wouldn’t go mad thinking of the duke before this evening’s festivities. Otherwise, it would be a very long day.
Before she dressed, she sent a note around to Arietta and waited anxiously for her reply. When it came, she sighed in relief. Thankfully, Etta didn’t have other plans already, so she would be delighted to join Genevieve for a day of shopping. She added that she was in need of a new bonnet.
Genevieve clasped the reply to her chest in gratitude. Someday, she would owe her friend dearly for all of the times she had saved her, but for now, she was just eager to leave the house.
As she appeared downstairs, she encountered her grandmother. “You look lovely, dear. Where are you headed?”
“To Bond Street. With Lady Arietta.”
“Oh, yes. The Marquess of Hillhouse’s gel.” She appeared to find no fault in that, but then she paused. “Have you reconsidered the Duke of Argyle’s proposal yet? No doubt it will not stand forever, and I should hate for you to miss out on such an advantageous match.”
She offered a tight smile. “Not yet. But I should have my answer very soon.”
“Very well.” The duchess shook her head but said no more on the subject as she walked away.
Genevieve was grateful for it, because she wasn’t sure what to say anymore when it came to Argyle. She had thought she’d had his arrogance boxed into a corner, but now she wondered if she had any sort of sway with him at all. If she didn’t give him what he wanted initially, he might decide to turn another direction. Although she desired to take him down a peg or two, her grandmother was right. She didn’t want to miss out on the chance to marry him, since she couldn’t imagine herself with anyone else. He was the only man who made her stomach flutter with delicious excitement.
It was time to rethink her strategy.
The Darlington musicale was half over by the time Cortland arrived. He was sure his tardiness would stick in Lady Genevieve’s craw to know that he had purposely arrived late, when she was likely expecting him to be prompt and eager to engage with her. It was all part of his grand scheme of things to make her beg for him.
He smiled when he imagined the little pout she must be wearing on those luscious lips. It made him happy to think she had been fidgeting in her seat, awaiting the moment he might finally arrive.
Perhaps she’d even saved him a seat—
His thoughts came crashing to a halt, the grin wiped effectively from his face when he entered the room and saw her elegant coiffure in the midst of the assembled.
She wasn’t alone.
To one side of her was the chit who had fainted at the first sight of the orgy in the parlor, but on the other was a gentleman Argyle didn’t know. Yet.
However, it wasn’t as though he could elbow his way across the aisle of chairs. With any luck, intermission would be close at hand and he would be able to confront his future bride and her new swain.
A short time later, fortune smiled on him as the last performer left the makeshift stage at the front of the room as refreshments were brought out by liveried footmen.
Lady Genevieve was smiling and chatting amicably with Mr. Irritation, as Cortland had taken to referring to him. However, when he made his presence known, her smile faltered and fell. While he hated to see it fade from her lovely face, the dark scowl that was likely imprinted on his face was likely the reason for her sudden apprehension. At least she was intelligent enough to sense his disapproval.
“Lady Genevieve, you haven’t yet introduced me to—”
“The Duke of Argyle.” The man was wide-eyed almost flustered, as if he was in the presence of Zeus himself. “It’s an honor, Your Grace.”
“Er, yes.” He cleared his throat and tried again. “I’m afraid I didn’t catch your name—”
The stranger laughed in return. “Oh, dear. I fear I suffer terrible adversity with proper conversation. I spend most of my time in the country, you see.”
Cortland waited for more, but still, the man’s identity remained a mystery. It suddenly occurred to him why he might remain sequestered in the country. He could hardly string two words together.
“This is Lady Arietta’s cousin, visiting from Brighton. Lord Henry—”
