Maiden Lane [6] Duke of Midnight

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Book: Read Maiden Lane [6] Duke of Midnight for Free Online
Authors: Elizabeth Hoyt
Tags: Historical Romance
searched his face for a second more and then faced forward again. She supposed it hardly mattered what he thought of her—besides being an adequate lady’s companion for Penelope. He’d never before sought her out specifically to talk to her. She doubted he would ever do so again. They, simply put, didn’t move in the same orbits. She smiled wryly to herself. They didn’t even move in the same
universe
.
    “Are you going to fetch refreshment for Lady Penelope?” he asked, his voice rumbling pleasantly at her shoulder.
    “Yes.”
    She saw him nod out of the corner of her eye. “I’ll help you bring it back.” He turned to the footman ladling glasses of punch and snapped his fingers. “Three.”
    To her amusement, the man leaped to provide three glasses of punch while the duke simply stood there.
    “That’s very kind of you, Your Grace,” she said, all trace of irony carefully erased from her voice.
    “You know that’s not true.”
    She glanced at him quickly, startled. “Do I?”
    He bowed his head, murmuring quietly, “You seem an intelligent woman. You know I’m courting your cousin. Therefore, my offer is but a way to gracefully meet her again tonight.”
    There didn’t seem much to say to that, so Artemis remained quiet as they gathered the three glasses of punch.
    “Tell me, Miss Greaves,” the duke said as they began the trek back across the ballroom. “Do you approve of my courtship of your cousin?”
    “I can’t imagine that my approval matters one way or the other, Your Grace,” Artemis clipped out, unaccountably irritated. Was he patronizing her?
    “Can’t you?” One corner of his mouth flicked up. “But you see I grew up in a house full of women. I don’t discount the weight of a whispered confidence in a feminine boudoir. Several judicious words from you in your cousin’s ear could scupper my suit.”
    She looked at him in astonishment. “Your Grace assigns me more power than in truth I have.”
    “You’re modest.”
    “Truly I am not.”
    “Hmm.” They were nearing Penelope who was still in conversation with Scarborough. Wakefield’s eyes narrowed.“But you haven’t answered my question: will you back my suit?”
    She glanced at him. In her position she ought to tread carefully. “Do you have an affection for Penelope?”
    “Does that matter to Lady Penelope?” He arched an eyebrow pointedly.
    “No.” She lifted her chin. “But I find, Your Grace, that it matters to me.”
    Penelope turned and, catching sight of them, broke into a gorgeous smile. “Oh, Artemis,
finally
. I vow I’m quite parched.” She took her cup from Artemis’s hands and looked up through her eyelashes at Wakefield. “Have you come to scold me some more, Your Grace?”
    He bowed and murmured something over her hand.
    Artemis took a step back. Then another. The tableau—Penelope, Wakefield, and Scarborough—were the players in this theater.
    She merely swept the stage.
    She tore her gaze from the trio and looked about the room. Several chairs had been set against the wall for the older guests and such. She caught sight of a familiar face and began moving in that direction.
    “Would you like some punch, ma’am?”
    “Oh, how kind!” Bathilda Picklewood was a stout lady with a round, pink face framed by gray curls. In her lap was a small black-white-and-brown spaniel, alertly watching the room. “I’d just begun to think that I ought to go in search of punch.”
    Artemis held her hand out to the spaniel—Mignon—as Miss Picklewood took a sip. Mignon licked Artemis’s fingers politely. “Lady Phoebe isn’t here?”
    Miss Picklewood shook her head regretfully. “You’reaware that she doesn’t attend crowded events. I’m here tonight with my good friend Mrs. White—she’s gone to repair a bit of lace on her costume.”
    Artemis nodded as she settled next to the older lady. She did know that the duke’s youngest sister didn’t usually attend crowded events, but she’d hoped

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