Two minutes into their conversation—if one could call a monologue a ‘conversation’—and Sybil knew precisely what she had gotten herself into. Which was, namely, a disastrous social situation. Lord Cavely was probably aworthyyoung man, which was an epithet delivered with devastating effect on all those who had no other, more positive traits.
“And, you know, as I read theIliadfor the third time, I could not help comparing it to Homer’s rather more popular work, theOdyssey,” Lord Cavely droned, and Sybil tuned him out again. How could one man have so much to say about so very little?
And what lady in polite Society would be interested in Classical literature? She enjoyed novels well enough, but she preferred novels from the circulating libraries; ones that if she had a stricter mother, she would have to hide under her pillow.
The Duke, at the other end of the table, caught her eye and winked. He was seated beside two perfectly pretty ladies, and Sybil couldn’t believe the unfairness of it. He was being perfectly entertained by wit and beauty—or at least beauty—and she had brains but absolutely no wit.
With a monumental effort, Sybil made it through three courses of Lord Cavely discussing the various books in his library. None were interesting, obviously, because, in order to read an interesting book, Sybil was sure, one first required an interesting mind. Lord Cavely’s was clearly drier than the dustiest of tombs.
After dinner was cleared away and they returned to their box for the fireworks, Sybil chose a seat beside the Duke, who raised an eyebrow at her. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”
“Are you good friends with Lord Cavely?” she asked bluntly.
“Not particularly. Why, are you?”
“After the dinner I just had?” She folded her arms. “I spoke no more than three words to him over the entire course of the evening, and I may as well have turned into a goose for all the attention he paid me.”
The Duke’s lips twitched. “I gather you were not enamored by his conversational skills?”
“I was not! And neither would you if you expected a dinner and received a lecture.”
“He is a learned young man.”
“If he is to venture into Society, he should probably find a mode of conversation that doesn’t resemble a schoolroom. Do you know how many facts he told me about theOdyssey?”
“No,” said the Duke. “But I’m greatly intrigued to know the precise number.”
“Almost thirty, and he delivered them in such ponderous tones. Did you know the Greeks had no word for purple? That’s why they used the words ‘wine-dark’.” Sybil folded her arms as the Duke let out a bark of laughter. “I think it was very unhandsome of you to expect me to bear with his company all dinner.”
“Why,” he said, dropping his voice into a seductive curl that sent immediate heat into the pit of her stomach. “If you’re not careful, Lady Sybil, I’ll start to think you prefer my company.”
This was dangerous territory. She eyed him warily. “How could I not? That is not a compliment, I assure you.”
“Then I shall be sure not to take it as one.”
For the first time, Sybil became aware that they were at the back of their box, and that Lady Windermere, her chaperone, was engaged in conversation with her husband. In fact, everyone else in the box was talking in a way that left them no time or space to pay her any attention.
And the Duke was looking at her in a way that seemed almost hungry. It made more of that heat pool low in her belly.
“Lord and Lady Windermere are lucky to have made such an advantageous match,” she said in a whisper, feeling as though she needed to make conversation, and another woman seemed safe.
The Duke leaned back in his chair. “She was lucky enough to find a man who wanted her not for her money but for her body and mind,” he said, not seeming to notice his words were crude in the extreme. “And he was lucky that she fell in love with him in return.”
“A love match?”
“They are not so rare now as they used to be.”
Her mother had made two love matches, but Sybil had no intention of being like her mother—or marrying a man who might gift her a large painting of her naked body for the world to see.
She closed her eyes at the memory. Almost every gentleman of thetonwould have seen it by now, and the humiliation was almost enough to stifle her.
“Are you looking for a love match?” the Duke asked, his voice low. No doubt this would interfere with his plans for her, and the way he would help her find a husband.
“Not at all,” she said hastily. “Although I do insist I have a husband who does not bore me excessively.”
“And Lord Cavely does not fulfill that expectation?”
“No,” she said emphatically. “If I have to hear another word about libraries, I might leave this very moment.”
