“It looks suspicious,” June muttered under her breath.
Before April could reply, a ripple of awareness spread through the nearby crowd. The Duke of Stone had arrived.
The Duke approached on horseback, dismounting with effortless grace. His coat, a deep blue that nearly matched his eyes, was immaculate despite the dusty ride.
April felt her heart beat faster—though whether from nerves or anticipation, she could not say.
He greeted her mother first, bowing over her hand.
“Duke,” her mother said with giddy reverence, “how good of you to join us.”
“The pleasure is mine, Duchess,” Stone replied smoothly, releasing her hand with courtly precision.
His eyes settled on April, and he stepped forward. “Lady April,” he said, bowing over her hand, allowing his lips to linger for a fraction of a moment which sent warmth up her cheeks.
He then turned to May and June, studying them for a long moment.
“Lady June,” he said, addressing May with a polite bow.
May burst into giggles, covering her mouth with her hand. “I am Lady May, Your Grace.”
June curtsied prettily. “And I am Lady June.”
Stone inclined his head. “Forgive me, ladies.”
April’s stomach fluttered when she saw how he confused her sisters but knew exactly whoshewas.He knows me. Only me.
They settled onto the blankets. The Duke sat beside April, his posture relaxed but attentive.
“Do partake,” her mother urged, waving toward the towering plates.
May, her eyes gleaming wickedly, added, “Lady April made the scones especially for you.”
April bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing.
Stone selected a scone without hesitation, biting into it with the same calm precision he showed in every action.
April watched him closely. The pepper would strike any moment now.
But he chewed thoughtfully and swallowed, his expression as steady as ever.
“Delightfully bold,” he said, reaching for another.
Her sisters stared at him, wide-eyed.
Their mother, finally suspicious, plucked a scone and took a dainty bite—only to splutter and cough violently.
“Good heavens!” she gasped, reaching for the nearest cup.
April winced as her mother gulped the lemonade—and gagged anew.
“What—what is this?”
“A slight oversight, Mama,” May said sweetly, thumping her gently on the back.
Their mother fixed them all with a narrow-eyed glare before smoothing her skirts with trembling hands.
The Duke merely sipped his own lemonade, entirely unruffled.
