Her gaze flew to Griffin’s. He wasn’t angry.
“She didn’t intend to frighten Sara and Vera. Come on, Josephine, I’ll go with you to take the frog back where you got him.”
“You want to hold him?” Josephine asked as she lifted the frog up to Griffin.
“Why not?” he said with a grin, taking hold of it with one hand as he and Josephine walked away.
Esmeralda’s heart softened. The duke always surprised her. He didn’t have to be so understanding. She never expected him to be, yet he always was. Maybe all peers weren’t as coldhearted as her uncle had been to her mother.
She looked down at the skirt of her new dress. Once cleaned, the chocolate stain wouldn’t look so bad on her dark gray dress, but it had completely ruined the twins’ pastel dresses. Lady Evelyn would probably have something to say about that.
Esmeralda’s gaze swept down to the blanket. It was a mess of stomped-on tarts—Napoleon was happily scarfing up the last of the crumbs—spilled chocolate, an upended basket, and scattered cups, saucers, and napkins.
She remembered the shrieks and expressions of horror on the twins’ faces when they saw the fat frog with bulging eyes and dangling legs hanging from Josephine’s hands. Lady Vera had stumbled, Lady Sara then tripped and fell on top of her, and Esmeralda’s skirt went flying up to her knees. What an embarrassing catastrophe that had been.
Suddenly Esmeralda turned her back to the twins and started laughing. Silently. Her shoulders shook but she remained quiet except for an occasional sniff that errantly escaped. Kneeling on the blanket, she started cleaning up the debris from the incident.
Josephine was right. Why was anyone afraid of a frog?
Chapter 17
Do take a man at his word no matter how muddled that word may be.
MISSMAMIEFORTESCUE’SDO’SANDDON’TSFORCHAPERONES, GOVERNESSES, TUTORS,ANDNURSES
Griffin stepped into the warmth of White’s, and peeled off his leather gloves. Frustration had become an all too familiar feeling. Not only was he constantly thinking about who might want to upset the twins’ Season, the very tempting Esmeralda was consuming his thoughts as well. She claimed to know nothing about men or kissing, yet for all her proclaimed innocence in the ways of seduction, she had somehow managed to beguile him. She also challenged him, intrigued him, and made him desire her all the more each time he saw her.
There were many beautiful ladies in London that Griffin could long for. Perhapsshouldlong for. Some young, beautiful, and innocent—like the young gels looking to make a match. Others older, but well trained in the art of pleasing a man. And there were lovely widows seeking nothing more binding from him than a night in their bed.
He didn’t want any of them.
Yet Esmeralda, the one forbidden, the one he had to keep at a distance, was the one who heated his blood like no other, leaving him thirsty for a taste. She was the one he wanted with a yearning he’d never experienced before. It was maddening and challenging at the same time.
He had seldom denied himself anything he wanted, and there was no denying he wanted her. And more than that. Her enjoyed being with her. He liked her banter, her boldness, and her sensitivity. He even liked her sister and their dog. And every day he had to remind himself he couldn’t touch her. Not yet. But there would come a time when he could. When he would.
Griffin handed off his hat, gloves, and cloak to the attendant and forced Esmeralda from his thoughts. He strode toward the taproom, nodding at a gentleman he passed along the way and stopping to speak to another. All Griffin’s efforts to find out who might have designs to ruin his sisters had failed. He had some suspicions, but that’s all he had. They were flimsy at best and a poor substitute for facts.
That’s why on this early evening he was back to the source: Sir Welby.
Griffin had been spending more time at White’s in recent days. In the taproom, the billiards room, the reading room, all in hopes of hearing a comment, a word, something that might help him figure out who had been talking about him and his sisters that night. He usually had a keen sense and could pick up on the slightest inkling when something felt suspicious. But no one was talking. According to his aunt, even the gossip sheets had fallen silent on the subject.
Rounding the doorway, Griffin saw the old man with long, thinning gray hair sitting at his usual table right by the entrance. His shoulders and back were as straight as men half his age, though much thinner. His eyesight might only be a hazy blur of images, but there was nothing wrong with his hearing. Above the chatter of the patrons, the thud of tankards, and the clink of glasses being placed on wooden tables, Sir Welby had heard Griffin’s approach and turned around. He always smiled, knowing whoever was walking in would speak to him as they passed.
Griffin stopped by his chair and said, “Evening, Sir Welby. Do you mind if I join you?”
“Your Grace,” he said and immediately grabbed hold to the edge of the table to help him stand. “I’d be honored.”
“Keep your seat,” Griffin said, placing a hand on his shoulder to keep him from rising. “Your glass is almost empty. I’ll order another for you.” He glanced over at the bar and saw Holsey.
The man bowed.
Griffin nodded.
“No, no,” Sir Welby said. “No more for me. I have enough trouble finding my out of here and out to my carriage in the evenings. I don’t want to be blind and staggering too.”
Griffin laughed as did Sir Welby. One of the servers approached, but Griffin waved the man away.
“I wanted to ask if you’d remembered anything more about what you’d heard about my sisters,” he said, sitting down opposite the man.
