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She had to give the duke a nod, though, for his last action. Fully expecting him to leave her floundering with Louisa on the question of their introduction, she had also assumed he would bring up the debacle at his home. Amazingly, he hadn’t. He had saved her from humiliation, and not just to spare himself. Louisa wasn’t concerned about the duke’s behavior. She had only wanted to catch Victoria in a scandal. A minor scandal at that, but her cousin seemed bent on ruining what little reputation Victoria had. Since she had no parents and a very tiny dowry, her reputation was all she did have. Yes, she would give the duke a mark in his favor for his small white lie.

She would also give him a mark for being a handsome devil. She had been surprised to note that beneath his black coat stretched wide by broad shoulders he wore a surprisingly bright yellow waistcoat. His hair was unquestionably black, cut shorter than was the fashion. But his eyes... Victoria suppressed a sigh. His grey eyes were absolutely marvelous. Yes, she had finally been close enough to determine their color. Most people would call them grey; there wasn’t even a trace of blue in them, but another descriptive word hung on the tip of her tongue. His eyes were as grey as... Contentedly daydreaming about the duke, she was certain no one would miss her in the ballroom.

Alas, it was not to be. Louisa barged into the retiring room to fetch her. She was most unhappy to find Victoria staring vacantly at the wall. They returned to the ballroom, where Louisa once again refused to leave her side. Victoria couldn’t fathom Louisa’s motive for such a change in behavior, but she’d bet it wasn’t a pure one. She put on a polite face, but longed for the evenings gone by when she could wander as she pleased. She had never thought she would miss speaking with her old friends—and they were all aged—but she did. Of course, anything else would have been preferable to following Louisa about like a dog on a lead. What was her vapid cousin up to?

TAVISTON HEADED OFF to the card room, where he was sure to find strong spirits. This evening hadn’t gone at all as planned. The hour only approached eleven o’clock, yet he hadn’t intended staying even this long. He had meant to put in an appearance for Northfield and hoped to meet Lady Tessa Colvin. Perhaps after a dance with her, he could have taken his leave and the rest of the evening would have been his to do as he pleased.

There was nothing to stop him from going ahead with his plan now, though. After a fortifying brandy, he set out in search of his host and hostess, intent on finally getting an introduction to the mysterious Lady Tessa.

He found Northfield and his wife off to one side of the ballroom. Taviston approached them and sketched a quick bow. “Good evening again. May I compliment you both on this rousing affair?”

“Taviston, I cannot believe you are still here,” Northfield exclaimed, waving his hand out with a flourish. “Have you nothing better to do this evening? Who would have thought our little ball would be able to provide such entertainment you would never leave?” Here he placed his hand over his heart. “Surely there’s a book at home that would offer more amusement than this dull gathering?”

Northfield’s wild gestures and insincere looks of surprise were nothing less than Taviston would have expected. His friend was given to drama.

Lady Northfield poked her husband in the ribs. “Leave him alone. It bodes well for us that the Duke of Taviston is still in attendance.” She turned to Taviston. “I do hope you’ve been enjoying yourself?”

He wanted to answer in the negative. After all, he’d spent the whole evening traipsing after a small, atrociously-clad woman who made him uncomfortable in the extreme. But in truth, he hadn’t been bored all night and he certainl

y wasn’t ready to leave just yet.

“I’ve had a wonderful time, Lady Northfield. You have outdone yourself.”

“Thank you.” She flashed him a brilliant smile that reminded Taviston how fortunate his friend was. She had light brown hair, but more the color of wheat rather than the color of sand, like Miss Forster. Lady Northfield was probably a good three inches taller too, as well as slightly plumper, but that could be due to the fact she had given birth to a son not two months prior.

“You are welcome.” He deftly changed the subject with his next question. “What can either of you tell me of a young lady named Victoria Forster?”

Damnation. He hadn’t meant to say her name. This evening was supposed to have been all about Lady Tessa.

“Miss Forster? I met her at a musical event last week. We spoke for only a minute or two and she seemed pleasant.” Lady Northfield’s face held a gentle smile, but her dark blue eyes gleamed.

Slightly mortified to be asking such questions, especially considering the stunned look on Northfield’s face, Taviston realized he couldn’t suddenly switch lines and ask about Lady Tessa now. He might as well find out what he could about the pesky imp who had plagued him for the last couple of days. He lifted his eyebrows as if to say, Is there nothing more?

Lady Northfield didn’t hesitate to answer. “She’s the only child of the late Mr. Harold Forster of Leicestershire and the ward of her cousin’s husband, Barrett Browne. He invests heavily in shipping, and Mrs. Browne is making an enormous effort to bring their social position equal to their financial position. She hasn’t tried to hide her unhappiness about having to shepherd her cousin into society. As a matter of fact, upon learning Miss Forster was Mrs. Browne’s unwanted relative, I felt some degree of pity for her. That’s why I included them on the guest list. I wasn’t trying to further Mrs. Browne’s social ambitions, but I thought perhaps her cousin could do with some friendship.” She took a deep breath after this lengthy monologue and smiled blandly at Taviston.

He could but stare at her. “I do believe, Lady Northfield, you could rival Hither and Yon for information about members of society.”

Northfield made as if to speak, and Taviston could only be grateful his friend never had the chance, for they were interrupted by the arrival of none other than his mother.

“Lord and Lady Northfield, good evening. May I commend you on such an enjoyable affair?”

“You may indeed, madam. We most appreciate your attendance. Might I say you are looking resplendent this evening.” Northfield directed a hasty bow in her direction and Taviston noted with chagrin the nasty sparkle in his eye.

He needed to control the direction of this conversation or heaven only knew what words might spout from Northfield’s mouth.

The duchess smiled benevolently on both the marquess and his bride and said, “It is such a delight to see my son’s closest friend settling into married life. I do hope Taviston takes note of your example.”

He didn’t have to worry about Northfield at the moment; his mother was taking her own jabs at him.

“Mother, I—” Taviston’ reprimand died on his lips as Louisa Browne thrust herself and her feathered cousin into their midst.

“Why, Duchess, good evening. Imagine my astonishment upon recently learning you had the acquaintance of my darling little country cousin. Who would have thought such a thing possible?” Louisa punctuated her pronouncement with a triumphant gleam.

Her rudeness astonished everyone into speechlessness. Taviston quickly hid the flash of anger that burned his face. How dare Louisa Browne try to catch him in his lie? Though he stood right next to his mother he could not possibly convey Miss Forster’s identity to her without notice.

He need not have worried. Lady Northfield assessed the situation correctly within seconds. She stood directly across from his mother and Miss Forster’s body shielded her from Louisa’s view. So, she proceeded to mouth the word “miss” and then the word “Forster” while gesturing unobtrusively at the lady under discussion.

His mother took note without ever changing her serene expression. She ignored Louisa, whom she had never met, and inclined her head regally to Victoria, whom she had also never met. “Miss Forster, it is a joy to see you again. I do hope you plan to call upon me later this week, as we discussed.”


Tags: Charlotte Russell His and Hers Historical