A Lot Like a Lady by Kim Bowman, Kay Springsteen Read Free Book Online Page B

seat.
    Juliet jerked back to awareness. “La— Auntie? Is something amiss?”
    “Oh,” she moaned again. “I just knocked my ankle against the couch, dear. Thank you for inquiring.”
    “Lucien Giles Warren Markwythe, the Earl of Melfax,” intoned Higgins from the doorway of the drawing room.
    Lady Fenimore blanched. “If you will excuse me. I must speak with my husband.” She bustled off without another word.
    “Huh, little chit’s every bit as rude as her mother was,” murmured Harmony.
    A tingle worked its way along Juliet’s spine, leaving a chill in its wake, and she swiveled about. Had a goose walked over her grave?
    Across the room stood a man of about the duke’s years. His hair was dark, his eyes piercing, and they were focused directly on her. She struggled for a name but nothing came to mind.
    When the man smiled and tipped his glass of port in her direction, she smiled and quickly turned away. What did his name matter after all, since Annabella would surely send the letter soon? Remembering the names of people the duke would introduce her to was bound to be a fruitless exercise and completely unnecessary when “Annabella” was sent for by the duchess.
    Gracious, she hardly knew the duke himself. Even residing in his home, she’d not seen him more than a few times in the prior week. He’d taken supper with her and the aunts one time and shared Sunday dinner with them, but then retired behind the heavy door to his study after that.
    Juliet was actually relieved his grace had spent little time with her. She lived in constant fear of saying or doing something wrong, something that would make it quite clear she was not Annabella. Why hadn’t her friend written requesting Juliet come to Bath? Surely she should have managed to send off a message by now.
    It wasn’t like being sent for would interrupt anything. Juliet had spent much of the week inside sitting with Lady Charity, the old aunt being indisposed with her injury. It might have been nice to see just a bit of London while she was there, but she couldn’t very well take to the streets alone.
    “Dinner is served.” The butler stood stiff and straight in the archway of the drawing room, his lips barely moving, though he somehow managed to form crisp sounds as he introduced the host of the gathering. “Graeme Roland Dominick Markwythe, the Sixth Duke of Wyndham, and Miss Annabella Mary Lysandra Price.”
    His grace — no, no! Graeme or Markwyth, for that’s what Annabella called him when she was being benevolent and polite — exuded confidence as he stood waiting near the doorway. He was quite handsome, and a warm flush crept into her cheeks as she recalled his informal name, the one Annabelle said his father had called him by… Grey.
    No one moved.
    Beside her, Charity gave a delicate cough. Juliet started. Had she spoken his name aloud? Charity touched her on the arm.
    Oh! He means me.
    She crossed the room, trying to walk gracefully in shoes that pinched her toes. The primrose and white gown Annabella had packed swirled around her feet. The soft muslin was the most beautiful garment Juliet had ever worn, but like all of Annabella’s other gowns, it was a bit too long and the tips of her shoes repeatedly caught on the hem. Grey presented his arm and Juliet slipped her hand over the muscular appendage the way Annabella had taught her. Except her heart hadn’t fluttered like a hummingbird’s wings when she’d taken Annabella’s arm. Nor was the sensation in any way alleviated by the feel of soft muslin swishing across her legs.
    Grey led her to the first chair after the host’s seat at the imposing table. She stared at the place settings, so many more of them and so much more formal than the quieter table Regina kept at Wyndham Green… or the breakfast room where she and the aunts had dined since their arrival. Grey released her and held the chair for her. He inclined his head slightly as though waiting for something.
    “Thank