Confessions of a Duchess. Nicola Cornick
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to renew your acquaintance with Mr. Anstruther,” she said wearily. She had seen how Faye’s face had sharpened into interest to have an eligible gentleman in her sights. “I am sure that he will be delighted to see you again.”
“He is extremely handsome, but he has no money, has he?” Faye said thoughtfully, sizing Dexter up like a horse trader. “Still, that should make him grateful to secure a duke’s daughter in marriage.”
“Mama!” Lydia gasped, turning bright red at her mother’s barefaced gall.
“What?” Faye looked impatient. “There is no need to be missish, Lyddy. We all know why we are here, so you had better give him some encouragement.”
Laura shot Lydia a sympathetic glance as the poor girl looked as though she was about to bolt from the ballroom.
“Yes, Mama,” Lydia said, in a stifled whisper.
As Laura went out Faye was already dragging Lydia across to accost Dexter whilst Henry watched with the calculating expression of a man working out how much the wedding was going to cost him. Laura saw Dexter take Lydia’s hand and bow over it and the same shocking spear of jealousy pierced her to the core like a physical pain.
When she reached the door she could not prevent herself from looking back. Dexter was leading Lydia into the set that was forming for a country-dance. He did not look at Laura. It seemed he had already forgotten her.
LYDIA COLE WAS an observant girl. She had already noticed that Dexter Anstruther, though pretending to be utterly indifferent to Laura, had watched her covertly all the way out of the ballroom. She had felt the tension in his body as he led her into the country-dance. She had even noticed that although Dexter was making perfectly pleasant conversation with her, part of his mind was preoccupied with something—or someone—completely different. She was not the main focus of his attention. In truth, she barely had his attention at all.
She was hugely relieved. Dexter Anstruther, with his tawny golden hair, his deep blue eyes, his commanding physique and authoritative presence, scared her to death. He was far too handsome, far too clever and generally far too overwhelming for her.
Lydia understood her mother’s absolute determination to marry her off. She also knew that Dexter was looking for a rich wife. It should have been the perfect, convenient combination. Except that it was not, for she was sure that Dexter’s feelings were already engaged elsewhere and she…Well, she had formed a tendre for a totally unsuitable man. She was almost certain that she had fallen in love at first sight.
She glanced over at Faye and sighed. The duchess had the instinct of a major predator where her daughter’s marriage prospects were concerned and was watching Lydia with a mixture of smugness and vague threat as though she was about to pounce on Dexter and carry him off to announce the banns immediately. Matters, Lydia thought, might well become complicated. She had to ensure that she did not end up being bullied into marrying Dexter and she had to try to cure herself of her hopeless passion for another gentleman. She hoped she had sufficient will to succeed. She was not sure that she did.
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