Sins of a Duke(15)
Mr. Harris bowed and exited.
“The Duke of Mondvale?” Charlotte demanded anxiously. “The man everyone refers to as the Lord of Sin?”
Her voice sounded strangled as she looked at Constance with ill-concealed alarm.
Constance leaped to her feet and paced for a few seconds. Should I change out of my morning dress? The simple pale pink dress and the chignon her hair had been gathered in now seemed wholly understated to see the duke.
“When were you introduced?” Charlotte asked, taking the card from her, examining it as if she doubted it really came from him.
Constance could not prevent the heat that climbed her neck to her face, as the circumstances in which they had spoken and danced roared through her mind. Their kiss had been the most exciting thing that had happened to her since her debut. All day, it had been a difficult thing to keep from Charlotte. Constance had vibrated inside to share their magical night in the conservatory with someone, but had chosen to hold it close instead. Now it seemed her secret was out.
“Good heavens, you are blushing, Connie.”
She sighed. “I met him last night. We were not introduced. Oh, Charlotte, I lied to him about who I was, and now I cannot credit that he is here.”
“You spoke, but you had not been formally introduced?” Charlotte demanded, her voice bordering on exasperation.
Constance clasped her hands and forced herself to stand still. “Yes.”
“I gather from the redness of your face that something more happened,” Charlotte said wryly.
With a groan Constance flung herself into the depth of the sofa. “We danced in the conservatory under the stars, and then he kissed me.”
“Constance Isabella Desiree Thornton!”
She sat up, and laughter pulsed from her at the appalled look on Charlotte’s face.
Constance hugged herself. “Oh, Charlotte, he did not know it was me. Well, of course he now knows because he is here. What do I do? Do I change out of my morning gown?”
Excitement and trepidation glowed in Charlotte’s turquoise colored eyes as she cupped Constance’s cheeks. “You look beautiful. Come now, it is best to not keep him waiting. Changing your gown and redoing your hair would take too much time.”
She inhaled deeply, squared her shoulders, and swept through the door. Charlotte walked with her, and Constance could not work up the courage to ask to meet with the duke alone. Charlotte would not allow it anyhow. And Constance doubted she had the capacity to face him alone. Is he angry? Disgusted?
The walk through the hall past the library to the parlor was nerve-racking. She opened the door and entered with a serene calm she did not feel. He was standing by the window, his back to her. Charlotte entered, Constance gently closed the door, and he turned around. She heard Charlotte’s soft gasp beside her and Constance fully understood. Mondvale was very handsome, in a dark and exotic manner. His raven hair was held in a queue at his nape, and his spectacles did not detract at all from the piercing quality of his silver eyes. He seemed so tall, lean and hard. Dressed in dark brown trousers, a matching morning coat, and a white shirt, he looked supremely confident and at ease. Not as if he was confronting someone he felt deceived him.
His mouth curved into a faint smile. “Lady Constance.”
“Your Grace, how good of you to call.” She was pleased with the steadiness of her voice. “May I introduce you to Lady Ralston, my friend and companion?”
He strolled over with easy grace, and executed a small bow over Charlotte’s hand.
“A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady Ralston,” he murmured.
Charlotte responded in kind, her voice a little shakier than she probably intended.
“Please, let us sit,” Constance said, apprehension and a good deal of excitement clamoring inside her.
Charlotte sat in the sofa nearest to the window away from them. Constance sank into the seat opposite from him, wondering how to breach the topic of her obvious lie and apologize for it. The rattle of the china alerted her before the door opened, and Mrs. Pritchard wheeled in a trolley with teas and cakes, and with efficient movements, laid them out on the center table.
Constance dismissed her and then poured two cups of boiling water onto the Earl Grey leaves. She carefully prepared the tea, feeling his eyes watching in speculative silence the entire time.
“Thank you,” he murmured, when she handed him his cup.
She shifted uncomfortably on the sofa. “Your Grace, your presence indicates that you are aware of my ruse at Lady Lawrence’s ball. Please forgive my prevarication.”
He relaxed into the sofa. “Prevarication is forgiven, Lady Constance. I learned your identity later that night.”