Chapter Three

F rom her vantage point across the room, the Dowager Duchess of Avingden watched her grandson making his advances toward the young Miss Davies, companion to Miss Stanhope. It was about time, she thought. Half the eligible debs of the ton had been paraded before Antony with no interest at all on his part. And perhaps Miss Davies was not quite the thing, but she was well raised, genteel, lovely enough to counteract the lack of a dowry, and not the least bit objectionable in any way. The dowager was beyond caring whom he married and was focusing solely on the hope that he would marry!

Her grandnephew, Theo, was present as well. In truth, all the town beauties she had invited had been more for his benefit than Antony's. She had long known that Antony would never be content with a society wife. Duke or no, he was a man with very different interests. Theo, however, adored society and all that it had to offer.

Beckoning to the younger man, she sat imperiously, tapping her silver-tipped cane against the floor as he approached.

"Good evening, Your Grace," he said, sketching an overly exaggerated bow before her.

"Oh, stop your nonsense, Theo. None of us have time for it," she snapped. There was no heat in it. Truthfully, she adored him as much as Antony, but she also recognized that he frequently needed a firm hand. "Why has my grandson begun to pay such particular attention to Miss Davies?"

"I've no notion what you mean, Aunt," he denied far too quickly.

The dowager tapped the ottoman at her feet with the tip of her cane. "Sit."

He did so, clearly not liking it. But she wasn't overly concerned about bruising his vanity—not when he had such an abundance of it. "Does he have an attraction to the girl?"

"I cannot say."

"You will not say," she corrected. "You forget, Theo, that I can smell the lie on you from a mile away. There's some plan afoot between the two of you, and I will know what it is!"

Theo sighed. "He likes her. Though I daresay the Stanhope clan will not care for it. They may well turn her out if they get wind of it, and he will never forgive either of us!"

"Good heavens, you are duller than weathered rock at times! Turn her out, indeed. I have but to whisper a single sentence to the girl's aunt, and her station would be elevated from poor relation to adopted daughter in the blink of an eye! But there is some scandal there, I think. She was brought up in the Darrow School, and we all know why young ladies wind up there!"

Theo frowned in confusion. "Why do they wind up there?"

The dowager shook her head in annoyance. "My dear boy, how you get on in the world is a mystery to me at times. She's a by-blow. Illegitimate. That's why she was at the Darrow School. Though, I daresay it speaks well of Lady Stanhope that she took on such a burden—whether the girl is her blood or her husband's. I had a feeling about her the first time I met her."

"Lady Stanhope?"

The dowager whacked his arm with her fan in a gesture of pure annoyance. It landed with enough force to make him wince.

"No, you dolt. Miss Davies, of course. I knew Antony would find her compelling."

Theo shook his head in confusion. "If you knew that, then why invite Miss Parker and all these other young ladies? It seems unnecessarily risky when you want him angling for her alone."

"Because a diamond is always beautiful, Theo, but its true sparkle is only seen when it is shown against the right background. These lovely, shallow, society-obsessed young ladies are the foil needed to illustrate what makes Miss Davies so very special... and so very perfect for Antony. What is it that the two of you have planned?"

"He's asked me to keep Miss Parker occupied while he pursues Miss Davies."

"I will see to it that you are seated near one another at dinner," she determined with a sharp nod. "Of all those gathered, she is the one I most worry about."

"Because you think he could have feelings for her?"

"No. Because she's very used to getting what she wants, and she wants Antony... or rather, she wants what Antony represents. Her aim is to be a duchess. Do whatever you must to keep her from interfering between them."

Theo rose from the ottoman. "I do not understand why you couldn't just introduce Miss Davies to him and tell him she'd make an excellent wife!"

"Of course, you do not! You're the manageable sort, Theo. Antony, to my dismay, is the defiant sort. Always has been. The notion that his pursuit of Miss Davies might be forbidden or frowned upon will only make him more determined. Trust me and do as you are told."

Theo shrugged. "I'll do what I must. If that means dancing attendance on the lovely Miss Parker, then I certainly shall endeavor to persevere."

The dowager watched him walk away, heading in the direction of Miss Parker. Scanning the room, she noted Miss Davies' exceptionally high color. Something was afoot, she thought, and she would find out what.

Sir Percival approached Miss Davies, and the dowager noted the way the girl's eyes scanned the room for an avenue of escape. Not that she blamed her. He was an odious little man. He was only ever invited to her parties because he lived too close by to snub without some sort of recompense. And he was of low enough rank that he never sat near her at dinner. Thank heavens for that. But he would be sitting next to Miss Davies.

A glance at Antony, and she smiled smugly to herself. He was watching Sir Percival with the intensity of a hawk, clearly unhappy to have the man trying to poach the lady who held his interest. Oh, yes. Even though she had a moment of sympathy for Miss Davies, she'd put Sir Percival directly beside her and let Antony's jealousy do a good portion of her work for her.

*

It hadn't gone as well as Antony had hoped. Perhaps Miss Davies' drawing had simply been an artistic endeavor and had little or nothing to do with any particular feelings she might have for him. The more he considered it, the more Antony believed that to be the case. After all, she'd looked at him almost as if he were an annoyance rather than a welcomed partner in conversation. If she was that reluctant to even speak with him, surely the notion that she might harbor a secret attraction for him was utterly pointless.

It was possible that her affections were otherwise engaged. Sir Percival had been paying particular attention to her. While she did not seem to welcome the little toad's advances any more than she had welcomed his, Sir Percival, courtesy of his rank, was in a better position to be close to Miss Davies. He was seated beside her at dinner and made multiple attempts to engage her in conversation. Attempts, Antony reasoned, that were rebuffed as politely as possible, given their setting.

Course after course, all through dinner, those thoughts plagued him. So much so that he was an entirely wretched dinner companion to everyone around him. And yet, when he looked up, he had a clear line of sight to Miss Davies and to Sir Percival beside her. He could watch her to his heart's content, but it seemed a pointless exercise if her feelings for him were so terribly and, in all honesty, dishearteningly indifferent.

And yet, there were moments when he would catch her looking at him. It was not indifference he saw in her gaze then. There was interest there, or perhaps she simply found it curious that he kept staring at her. But the moment their eyes locked with one another, she would look away, as any demure young lady should. But would a demure young lady draw scandalous images of eligible bachelors? He was no closer to discerning the truth about how she might feel for him than before. But it did at least let him cling to the belief that not all hope was lost. He had to get her alone, he reasoned. And he had to confront her about the drawing. It was the only way to learn the truth—whether his hopes might be realized or whether they were to be dashed forever.