“Montford charged down the hill after you in a rather heroic fashion.” Franny cast her a measuring glance from the corner of her eye. “He risked his own neck for your sake, Prue.”
“Heroic! The Duke of Montford wouldn’t know heroism if it clubbed him over the head. Imagine my shock when I regained my senses and foundhimhovering over me like a vulture intent on a meal.” Though it must be acknowledged she didn’t know of many vultures with such lovely dark eyes, or such an enticing scent.
Amber, orange blossom, a hint of cinnamon, and underlying it all, leather and the musky scent of clean, male sweat. Whoever would have thought a gentleman’s scent could be so alluring—
“A vulture! Come now, Prue, that isn’t fair. He was quite careful with you, and from the window it looked as if he behaved like a perfect gentleman. That is, as perfect a gentleman as Montford ever is.”
Dash it, there went the tips of her ears again, burning with guilty heat. “I suppose he could have done worse.” She slumped against the back of the settee. “I’ll thank him for his assistance this evening, I promise.” She wouldn’t even mention that if it hadn’t been for his carelessness with his shotgun, she never would have found herself in such a predicament to begin with, no matter if itwasthe truth.
“Good. That’s the proper thing to do.” Franny nodded as if satisfied, but a sly smile was twitching at her lips. “It was rather sweet, the way he leapt from his horse, fell to his knees beside you, and—”
“It wasn’t nearly as dramatic as you make it sound, Franny.” She’d been unconscious at the time, yes, but the Duke of Montford wasn’t the sort of man who’d fall to his knees for any lady, least of all one likeher.
Especially not after what she’d done. She glanced at the wardrobe, where she’d tucked the ruby earrings inside one of her reticules.
“No? Because from the window, it almost looked as if he gathered you into his arms.”
“Gathered me into his arms, indeed. I don’t know why you insist on painting Montford as some sort of dashing romantic hero. All of London knows the man’s an unrepentant scoundrel.” Though hehadbeen surprisingly tender with her, his fingers so gentle when he’d touched her, like the softest breath.
“Yes, well, we all know how reliable London’s opinion is. They used to refer to Giles as Helios, if you recall.”
“Well, to be fair, Basingstoke does have rather a look of the sun god about him—”
“I don’t deny Montford has his flaws,” Franny went on, holding up her hand to silence Prue. “But he has a kind heart, in spite of it all. He’s a hero in scoundrel’s clothing, if you will.”
Prue shook her head, but a smile rose to her lips. She’d wager her last penny Montford was precisely what he appeared to be, that is, a rake down to the marrow of his bones, but since Franny had fallen in love with Basingstoke, she persisted in thinking the best of everyone.
It was rather sweet, really. Misguided, of course, but sweet.
The ugly truth was that men—particularly wealthy, aristocratic men, with the possible exception of the Duke of Basingstoke—were selfish, arrogant creatures, and Montford along with them. “When I told Montford the blast had nearly deafened me, he said it was a pity the birdshot hadn’t injured my tongue and silenced me forever.”
Franny choked on a laugh. “No, he didn’t!”
“I assure you, he did. Not quite what you’d expect a hero to say, is it?”
“Not at all. Why, he’s no better at holding his tongue than you are, the wicked man.”
“No, but since he and I are both here, and I’m destined to endure his presence, I suppose it would be wise of me to make the best of it, as I have no wish to spoil your shooting party. I’ll behave, I promise it, Franny.”
It was a trifle late, as promises went. Once again, her gaze was drawn to the wardrobe.
“I daresay it will be easier for you to keep that promise than you think. Montford isn’t nearly as bad as you imagine him to be.”
“I’ve no doubt of it, Franny.” That wasn’tquitetrue, but surely, the Duke of Montford must have some redeeming qualities?
It was true enough he hadn’t wasted any time coming down the hill after her. He’d even beat Cosgrove to the bottom. And perhaps shehadfelt a moment of relief—a brief moment, that is, so brief as to be insignificant—when she’d come to and found him leaning over her, those hypnotic dark eyes fixed on her face.
He’d apologized for the mishap, as well, and he’d appeared sincere when he expressed his regret at having frightened her, but she didn’t wish to dwell on that, as those were the sorts of troublesome details that might make it difficult for her to continue to dislike him.
It was much easier if she disliked him, and he disliked her heartily in return. Indeed, it was a bit puzzling that he’d come down the hill after her at all. She bit her lip and glanced guiltily at her friend. “Franny, I have something I need to tell you.”
“Yes?” Franny had risen to her feet and was considering the dinner gown the maid had set out for Prue. “This is pretty. Will you wear it tonight? My garnet bracelet will look nice with it.”
Oh dear. This was going to be harder than she’d thought. “Um, Franny—”
“I have a pair of garnet earrings that match the bracelet.”
“I’ve done something dread—”
