But Charlotte’s match was not yet set, and so Edward would allow tonight’s shenanigans. Finley and Fiona in the same place at the same time—it was the only guaranteed way to circumvent the gossip firestorm Luella would try to ignite.
“My goodness.” Simmons’s appreciative murmur, so very unlike him, caused Edward to look up. Fiona stood at the top of the stairs, looking down nervously.
All breath escaped him. Her curls had been fashioned in a way that they now cascaded over one shoulder. Charlotte’s crystal beads had been pinned throughout, so as she descended the stairs her auburn locks glinted and glimmered like flames.
Her lashes had been lined with the barest kohl, contrasting against her pale skin and highlighting the deep green of her eyes. Eyes that looked at him apprehensively as she stood before him.
“Well?” She looked down at her dress, a pale green silk that, despite its modest cut, did more than just hint at the figure beneath. He went hard instantly.
He took her gloved hand, bringing it to his lips. “You are beautiful.”
She quirked her lips, wryly.
“No more or less beautiful than in breeches and shirt.” He meant it too. This version of Fiona was breathtaking. But she was so when clad in trousers and was even more so when dressed in nothing at all.
He could not wait to marry this woman. That afternoon, he’d sent for the ring. It was currently in his dress coat pocket, next to his heart, where it would sit until tonight was over and they’d resolved the issue with the magistrate.
“Simmons, please call for the duchess.”
“There’s no need.” His mother’s thin and reedy voice came from the upstairs landing. From the look on her face, she hadn’t missed his momentary lust-filled befuddlement. “Where is your brother, Miss McTavish?” the duchess asked as she joined them. “I expected to see you both tonight. Or is there a reason that won’t happen?”
Fiona swallowed and curtseyed. “I’m afraid he’s been detained, Your Grace.”
“Is that so?”
Charlotte took Fiona’s arm. Edward would forever be grateful for his sister’s willingness to play the part of a human shield. A lifetime of the duchess’s caustic comments had toughened her.
“Well, Mother,” she said with her usual brightness. “Finley is with William, and you know how Will is. He’d much rather carouse with his friends than dance a waltz. But he haspromisedme that they will both attend, and he does not break his word.”
That was a bald-faced lie; William was more than capable of breaking his word. But the duchess would hardly disagree out loud in front of the servants, so she simplyhmphed and made her way to the carriage.
Once they were at Aunt Augustus’s ball, his mother joined her cronies on the settee by the balcony doors, where they could observe who went in and out and with whom.
The mob of young ladies who had trailed Edward like ducks at every event this season descended on him once again, seemingly not put off by Fiona, a stranger in their midst. This time, he was in no mood to indulge them.
“Your Grace, it’s such a pleasure to see you again.”
“Thank you, Miss Clarke. Excuse me.”
“Your Grace, my father bid me to give you his greetings.”
“That’s very kind, Lady Violet. Excuse me.”
“Your Grace, I’ve been thinking on this since our last dance; what is your favorite color?”
“Green, Lady Anne. Excuse me.”
“Your Grace, I’ve saved a dance for you.”
“For Christ’s sake.”
There was a collective gasp from the gathered debutantes. Their mouths dropped open and some even put their hands to their hearts in shock.
Blast.“I apologize for any mistaken impression I gave, but I amnotin search of a wife.” His statement rippled through the ballroom, carried on the lips of gossip-minded individuals, titillated by the sight of the always-calm and always-respectable Duke of Wildeforde losing his temper at a group of young girls.
One of whom burst into tears.
Edward breathed in deep, held it for a count of five, and exhaled. Tonight was going to be excruciating. The sooner he could tell the world that his heart was engaged, the better.
