The women listening to him did so with narrowed eyes. From what she’d heard, Peter didn’t chat casually with anyone. He welcomed no questions and sought no one’s opinions. The coterie chafed against his reticence. They considered him intelligent, honorable, and restrained in a way they approved ofin theory. His behavior was frustratingly unimpeachable, apparently, because he was frigid but not rude. He always followed through with his commitments, but made no social ones, and he clearly loved his siblings, though that warmthfailed to radiate elsewhere. They admired everything he allowed them to see and were suspicious of everything he did not.
Eleanor and Lady Wharton ground to a halt as the dowager studied the tableau. Thank God. It gave Eleanor a moment to settle, because no matter how much she’d thought she’d readied herself to see him again, she was woefully unprepared for the sudden racing of her heart and prickle of her skin.
“I thought you and the duke were avoiding each other.”
Eleanor grimaced. Every time Agatha had mentioned Peter, Eleanor had dodged the question. Even deleting Peter from her account of the disastrous evening at Bowen’s Kitchen hadn’t prevented the dowager from suspecting that there was more to the duke and Eleanor’s relationship than business.
Eleanor had denied the suggestion each time, but that had been before Peter had shown up on her doorstep. “I’m not sure what led you to believe that I was avoiding him.”
Lady Wharton raised an eyebrow. “It might have had something to do with the way you walked into a potted plant at Lady Restwell’s ball last week in an effort to evade him.”
Eleanor flushed. Her eyes had been too transfixed on Peter to notice where she was going, and she’d hoped no one had caught her stumble. “I’ve always been clumsy. My lack of coordination has nothing to do with His Grace. We had a professional disagreement. It wasn’t personal.”
“Not personal.” Lady Wharton scoffed. “Your entire life turned upside down and it wasn’t ‘personal.’”
The validation was somewhat mollifying to hear, given how strenuously Peter had insisted that it was only business. She sighed. “Very well, I might have been trying to dodge him, but he had no reason to avoid me. He won.”
“And he is a duke.”
“And he is a duke.” Dukes didn’t fear running into companions. They weren’t racked with nerves at the thought of seeing one across a busy dance floor. Dukes were devoid of such emotions. His steely expressions had been proof.
Except there had been nothing steely about him last night, and emotions of all sorts had flashed across his face. “His Grace was not avoiding me. If we didn’t interact at Lady Restwell’s ball—”
“Or Lady Cunningham’s.”
“Or Lady Cunningham’s, it was likely because we didn’t see each other.” Though truthfully, she’d seen him on both occasions. His frequent presence on the dance floor had been hard to miss.
“But then there was the potted plant, Miss Wright. Along with the way he tracked your movements from across the room. Don’t get me started on his sister and how often she’d start in your direction.”
Eleanor shuffled uncomfortably. “I cannot comment on that, Your Ladyship.” Because she couldn’t make sense of it. None of his behavior fit with what she knew of him.
Lady Wharton pressed her lips together. She, like her friends, prided herself on knowing exactly who was doing exactly what. She had her suspicions and was miffed that Eleanor would not confirm them.
A soberly dressed gentleman and his equally prim companion were forced to veer onto the grass in order to get past.
Agatha huffed. The two of them were too inconveniently situated for an interrogation, and it would have to wait. “Come on, then. Let’s see what he’s after.”
As they approached, Peter inclined his head, first to thedowager and then to Eleanor. “Lady Wharton.” He took Agatha’s arm. As he did, his hand brushed against Eleanor’s wrist. Her heartbeat quickened. How was she supposed to act now, when he’d seen her tipsy and had sat on the floor among piles of her favorite books? When his hand had cupped her arse andherhand had sunk into his hair. When their lips had touched, and the world had spun.
“Duke.” Lady Wharton allowed him to escort her to a chair and let him hand her a glass of punch once she’d settled herself. “Two garden parties in a week. I take it you have finally decided to join society properly.”
There was a slight stiffening of his jaw, but otherwise he maintained his affable air. “Other duties have kept me occupied, Lady Wharton, but I am here now.”
Agatha jabbed her cane at him. His shin would be just as bruised as Eleanor’s arm. “I know all about your other duties. If every book I buy from here on out crumbles because of your device, I will dump the remnants on your doorstep.”
Eleanor suppressed a laugh. It was a fine thing to have an ally of the dowager’s standing. He might have won, the Linotype might be rolling out across London, but he would still have to contend with Lady Wharton’s cutting barbs for a long, long time. It was a shame he’d never know the consequences he’d face in her next novel.
He flushed and rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. “If your books crumble then you are welcome to discard them on my doorstep. I will have already fled to the Continent to escape your wrath.”
Lady Wharton narrowed her eyes, but Eleanor could tell the dragon was placated. Still, the duke had been put on notice. If Agatha’s library was harmed, he would be held to account.
Peter shifted his attention to Eleanor. “May I borrow your companion?”
There was a frank exchange of scandalized looks among Lady Wharton’s friends. Eleanor would no longer be allowed to evade their questions regarding him. The carriage ride back was sure to be eventful.
Despite her suspicion, the dowager acquiesced. “Very well. I suppose I can do without her for an hour. Bring her back by luncheon.”
“I shall indeed.” Peter snapped his heels together and put a hand on the small of Eleanor’s back to steer her away. Her skin crackled at his touch.
