“Oh, dearest Harry led me here! I was so late, you see.” She took a liberal sip of her wine. “I simply could not decide which gown to wear, and then there was the matter of jewels. Pearl earbobs or diamonds? A necklace or a choker? It’s enough to give one a megrim, I swear.”
Good God, she was so shallow, she set his teeth on edge.
“Anyway, after much ado about everything, we finally came to an agreement, and here I am at last, thanks to Harry, of course.” She lifted her glass again, though the footman had disappeared. “To Harry!”
“To Harry!” the Willingtons chorused with fond smiles.
Valentine did not lift his glass, only stared and cursed his fate, his life, and his foul luck. He was going to stab himself with his own fork, just to put himself out of his own misery. Hence, it was no surprise that when he saw Lisbeth returning, his skin crawled with relief, despite her expression that told him she hadn’t found their target.
“Lady Bronwyn, what an unexpected pleasure,” she cooed, retaking her seat.
“My lady,” Bronwyn said. “How lovely to see you. It has been an age, hasn’t it?”
“Yes, I believe it has been, though I’m sure that Thornbury has told you the news of our separation.” She waved a hand. “All amicable, of course. We remain dear friends.”
“I was sorry to hear it,” Bronwyn replied.
“Thank you and nothing to be sorry about.” Lisbeth grinned. “He’s an absolute bear most days, which I don’t miss. Getting a smile out of him was like working my way past a thorny hedge without getting scratched.”
“Ironic, given his name,” Bronwyn replied and then frowned as though she hadn’t meant to say that. Valentine swallowed a bark of mocking laughter. It was surprisingly clever for her, considering she might not even know what irony was.
“Oh, that’s droll,” Lisbeth said, while he fought the urge to kick her in the knee. She patted his shoulder. “I don’t remember her being so witty, did you, Val?”
He swore that Bronwyn’s eyes darkened, flicking to Lisbeth’s hand, but in the next blink they were back to their cheery, sunny hues. “No,” he bit out. “Not in the least.”
“What are you heading to Philadelphia for, my lady?” Lisbeth asked.
“A sick relative,” she said without hesitation.
“Oh, I am sorry, is it serious?”
“No, not at all. It’s only to be a short trip. I shall return with the Valor in a week hence.”
Bronwyn shook her head, the rich curls catching the light in a way that Valentine tried not to notice. Focus on your meal, he told himself, attempting to block everything about her from his mind. Her pretty face. That provocative, smiling, vexing pout. The hint of décolletage that trembled with every breathless laugh. Her irritating scent that should not make his mouth water to have a taste; she was a person, not an autumn suet pudding.
Get a hold of yourself, you fool.
His grip tightened on his fork, but it was no use. His infamous, stony control was nowhere to be found. Rather than rebuke himself for being a surly curmudgeon in the middle of supper, glaring at everyone and answering in unintelligible grunts, Valentine did the only thing he could. He cleared his throat with a mumbled “Excuse me,” rose, and nearly bolted for the nearest exit.
Three
Bronwyn drew the first real breath since she’d been shown to the table.
“Was it something I said?” she asked, watching Lisbeth, who barely managed to stifle her snort of amusement at the duke’s rapid departure.
“Perhaps it was something he ate,” Lord Willington said. “I had an inkling that the sauce tasted a bit bitter. Did you, dear?” he asked his wife.
The lady frowned at her half-eaten plate. “No, it seemed fine to me. A dash more salt, perhaps.”
Thornbury’s former wife blinked. “I’m sure it’s nothing. He hasn’t been feeling well the past few days. I expect he’s gone to get some air. He’ll be back soon.”
Or never, Bronwyn hoped.
Being so late after getting lost in her own thoughts had meant that she could not choose her supper partners, and when Harry had led her to one of two open seats left in the crammed dining saloon, she hadn’t protested…until she’d viewed her companions. Or rather, companion. Luckily, she had met the Willingtons before, who were both adorably pleasant.
But the Duke of Thornbury. Of all the rotten luck. She had hoped to put her performance as the bubbly, brainless Lady Bronwyn to rest for five minutes during dinner before the pretense started back up in the ballroom for the last ball of the trip. In truth, she could have stayed in her stateroom, too.
You wanted to see him. Admit it.
Shut up.
Yes, perhaps in the ballroom from a good measure away, so he could look at her and long for what he couldn’t have! Not directly across from him, so close that she could lift her slipper and touch his person beneath the table, if she so desired.
Yes! No!
She’d had to keep her traitorous feet glued to the carpet to prevent an international incident. The breathiness of her voice hadn’t been a pretext—she could barely form two words together with his unwelcome proximity.
A man so dour shouldn’t be so handsome. But even with a scowl on his full lips, Thornbury was unfairly, sickeningly attractive. Curse them all if he had dimples! But if he had any secret indentations in his cheeks, she wouldn’t know because the man never smiled. His ex-wife was right about that. But even his surly demeanor didn’t detract from his sinful looks. There was definite padding beneath that finely tailored coat; there had to be. No man was that…perfect.
He’s not perfect, she reminded herself. He’s a jackass.
Yes, the lord of the jackasses.
King of the jackasses, in fact.
“So are you really going to Philadelphia to visit a sick aunt?” A low voice interrupted her internal tirade.
Bronwyn blinked for a beat and then nodded. “Yes.”
The lady chewed a mouthful. “You know, I ran from my home once, too. I could not bear the monotony a second more.”
“Where did you go, my lady?”
“Please call me Lisbeth.” Her smile was warm. “I went south. Stole my father’s carriage and took it all the way to Brighton.” She shook her head at the memory. “I barely had a farthing to my name when I arrived, but I found work as a governess. I shared a flat with three women of rather questionable morals, though they were kind, and by the time I came back home, I was a different girl. I’d seen the world and I wanted to see more.”