Perfect.
“Now this is a surprise,” someone said.
Noting how Danny stiffened and whirled to face the source of the cold tone, Percy peered around the divider to see a woman in a white dress.
Porcelain-skinned and with ringlets of blonde hair dangling under a wide, feathered hat, she’d have been considered the highest standard of beauty in society’s circle, but the overly large skirts and rose-embroidered bodice made Percy think of a child’s doll.
Danny offered a civil bob and said with uncharacteristic reservedness, “Lady Kendra.”
There was no civility in Lady Kendra’s sneer. “Lady Daniella.” Her gaze searched the couples on the closest balconies. “Isn’t your sister with you?”
“Denise wasn’t feeling well.”
“A pity.” Her gaze turned smug. “Couldn’t find another escort with those lackluster charms? It’s hard to imagine men still fighting over someone sopopular.”
Percy reeled back at the vulgar connotation. Expecting Danny to give this bitch her due, he watched angrily as she said nothing.
Lady Kendra lifted the fan attached to her wrist and snapped it open in an act one could only describe as aggressive. “But I guess you’re used to losing respectable men’s favors. Any man of caliber would see the disgrace of an alliance with the biggest tease in London.”
Danny flinched, and Percy’s vision flashed with a single, blood-dripped word: Enemy.
Whether from residual passion from their secret touching or the easy camaraderie growing between them, his desire to protect her came as naturally as the hand that found the knife at his ankle on reflex.
Whoever this person was—he wouldn’t attach a descriptor as kind as ‘lady’ to this creature—she needed a deep cut and a lengthy death.
It amazed him how no one shouted the injustice of such blatant lies. The occupants of the closest terraces must have heard Lady Kendra’s insults, and yet there was no call to arms, not even a stern look of disapproval from the couples walking past.
And the way Danny stood there and took the assault.
He’d had enough.
Sliding behind the divider, he startled a trio of smartly dressed ladies—offered a devious wink for their silence—andcame around the other side to give the appearance he’d just arrived back from mingling with others on a separate balcony.
“I do apologize for taking so long, Lady Daniella.” He kept his gaze on her startled face and conveyed his support with a quick brush of his thumb on her wrist as he came to her side.
“Oh, my.” Lady Kendra’s fan came up and flitted wildly.
Jaw gritted, Danny offered introductions. At leastsomeonehad manners. “Your Grace, this is Lady Kendra Fairchild. Lady Kendra, this is the Duke of Grandfellow.”
Recovered, Lady Kendra smiled coyly over her fan with eyes the color of envy. “The Duke of Grandfellow. Charmed.”
Minding his own manners, Percy took the lady’s proffered hand but didn’t offer a kiss. “A pleasure.”
“How strange to see you here.” Her gaze bounced between the two. “I did not know you were acquainted.”
“Bromley and Grandfellow reside in the same countryside,” Danny said quietly.
Percy didn’t feign his admonishment. “Don’t be so cold, Lady Daniella. What would your papa say if he heard you speaking of our family’s close friendship so callously?”
Lady Kendra’s gaze narrowed at Danny, seeming to reassess her opponent’s threat of connection. With a cry more moan than squeak of surprise, Lady Kendra appeared to trip while standing completely still, and Percy had no choice but to catch her before she barreled into Danny.
“Forgive me.” Lady Kendra pressed a hand to her cheek, all innocence. “I’m horrified.”
Percy set her on her feet and retracted his hands, else they be tainted by the woman’s growing pile of spewed manure. “Think nothing of it, Lady Kender.”
“Kendra, and you are too kind.” Lips pouting, she sided up to him, pressing her bosom against his arm and putting herself directly where Danny had been. “Are you a fan of sportingevents, Your Grace? The players can become so rough when invigorated.”
Percy refrained from sneering. Calling Danny a tease was laughable in the face of such a pathetic attempt at flirting.
