The Duke's Obsession (Entangled Scandalous) by Frances Fowlkes Read Free Book Online Page B

unnerving stare of the young earl, made this moment, and indeed the entire day, the most irrational of her existence.
    Daphne cleared her throat, eager to return to her aunt’s side. “Have you seen my aunt, my lord? I have been unable to find her, and I wish to rejoin her company. I fear the heat of the day has tired me.”
    The earl set down his flute of champagne and dabbed a monogrammed handkerchief to his lips. “I’m afraid I haven’t seen your aunt since last we spoke. Though if you are feeling ill, I can take you to a more secluded spot in the shade.”
    Daphne shook her head. The last thing she needed was to be alone with the earl. Not that she didn’t feel, at least in conversation, that she already was. Outside of the required pleasantries exchanged with the duchess’s guests, Daphne had yet to converse with anyone beyond Lord Westbrook and the duke.
    More than one curious glance was cast her way, but so too were bald stares and raised noses. Indeed, she was rather beginning to feel like a leper. Not that she minded. It was nothing less than she had expected from people who would likely dismiss her brother’s death as the tragic cost of war and hold her father’s work in such low regard. In fact, she was grateful for their rudeness. She’d hate to have to make concessions toward anyone English. Especially the duke.
    “Have you seen Lady Henrietta, my lord? Or perhaps her sister, Lady Albina? I am most certain they could direct me to my aunt.”
    “But Miss Farrington, I would be remiss if I did not first attend to your needs. A cool spot in the shade with some punch will be just the thing. I’m certain we can find your aunt once we attend to your well-being.”
    Daphne pursed her lips and took a deep steadying breath. The man was far more persistent than she originally perceived, and irritatingly so. “As delightful as that sounds, I do not wish to impose on your time. I am certain there are many eager ladies waiting for you to join them in conversation.”
    The earl shrugged. “I am only interested in one.”
    She was tired of playing games, and was quite honestly, just plain tired. She had not been exaggerating when she had complained to the earl of the sun’s effects. And as subtlety had yet to gain her the results she desired (if she were to be frank, neither had direct confrontation), Daphne, with acerbic bluntness, asked, “But why? Especially when there are plenty of tolerable and good English girls to whom you might give your attentions?”
    Lord, had she actually prefaced English with the word good?
    The earl’s eyes widened before taking on a decidedly dangerous glint. “Are you implying American girls are not good, Miss Farrington? That they might be more wicked than English ones?”
    Daphne cleared her throat and proceeded slowly, not entirely certain how to interpret the sudden change in his eyes. She had seen such a look, the same intense and almost hungry gaze on some of the men in her father’s employ. The sailors, who after long months at sea were starved of female attentions, often stared at her that way, but her brothers had always been present to shield her from any unwanted advances. That, however, was in Boston. Here, no one stood between her and the very attentive eyes or husky voice of the earl. Had fleeing from the duke been in her best interest?
    She took a step back. “I suppose everyone has a bit of wickedness inside of them, my lord. It is, is it not, why many a sermon has been preached on that very subject?” Daphne glanced toward a group of ladies gathering around a nearby table. “What I mean to ask is why you wish to waste your attentions on an American. I’m not blind or deaf, my lord. I see the disdain in which your acquaintances hold me, no matter how politely they veil it.”
    He continued to stare down at her, the pale blue-gray of his eyes darkening into the same menacing shade as the impending storm clouds. “I suspect you mistake disdain for jealousy,