The Wallflower Duchess. Liz Tyner
is only interested in men who have the most honourable intentions.’
‘My intentions are honourable. Always honourable intentions,’ he said.
She didn’t answer. Honourable intentions written in air.
‘Miss Hightower. You’re starting to look at me the same way Edge does. Are there any sharp objects about that I should hide?’
‘If we look irritated at you, it’s for good reason and you know it. You are a disaster waiting to happen.’
Nodding, Foxworthy said, ‘I’ve tried to keep my life amusing, unlike Edgeworth. He’s just like his father. I can still hear my uncle saying to Edge, “You are a duke first, you are a duke second and you are a duke third, and whatever of you that is left over after that is also a duke.”’
‘That’s Edgeworth.’
‘Yes. And I see him being just like the old Duke. He’ll settle into married life some day, because he does his duty. He will have his duchess. The perfect family. And then some years hence, he’ll discover he’s a man as well. Then you know what will happen. Just like his father.’ Fox shut his eyes for half a second and shook his head in the way of a sage.
His words jarred her insides. The recollection of the old Duke looking over his nose at her ignited memories she’d rather forget.
‘I want to experience life while I am young and get all the adventures I need out of my system.’ Fox swirled her around. ‘When I marry I will happily rot away, blissfully, in the arms of my beloved.’
He caught her eye, giving her another wink. ‘Just wanted to reassure you.’
‘Foxworthy.’ She snapped out his name. ‘You cannot possibly reassure me. You’re constantly in that half-rate newspaper that scandalmongers delight in.’
‘I’ve only been in it fourteen times and I count the Beany Beaumont incident even if I wasn’t mentioned by name.’
‘You are terrible.’
‘I am not.’ He glanced towards his feet. ‘I’ve missed only one step and it brought me closer to you. So how can I be upset with myself?’
‘Foxworthy. You wish people to talk of your missteps. You are a rake to the core.’
‘But beyond that, I’m pure gold.’ They turned around the room again. ‘Admit it, you find me quite charming.’
‘I would not exactly say that. I would say you have the very minimal charm necessary for a dance partner.’
‘Ouch,’ he said, and the dance ended without any more banter, but at least a dozen smiles from Foxworthy. He did have a rather elegant way of looking into a woman’s eyes, but it made Lily feel as if he expected her to swoon over him. She would be pleased when she could retire to her room, but she wasn’t leaving Abigail alone with only their father and aunt for chaperons.
She didn’t think it coincidence that Fox managed to stop them near Edgeworth.
‘Miss Hightower has commented quite directly on my charm as we danced,’ he said to Edge. ‘I fear it has quite gone to my head. Near smacked me across the temples, in fact. But—’ He spoke as he released her hand. ‘She was quite the most wonderful partner and a treat to listen to.’ He looked deep into her eyes. ‘Thank you. I will never, ever forget these moments with you.’
Then his eyes turned to Abigail and he clasped his hands flat over his heart. ‘Another Miss Hightower. How fortunate we are to have two in our presence. Please do me the honour of a dance.’
Abigail rose on tiptoes and proved women could not fly or she would have fluttered off the floor at that moment. ‘I would be honoured, Lord Foxworthy.’
He swirled her away.
‘Stop staring after him,’ Edge said. ‘He’s full enough of himself as it is.’
‘I don’t like him dancing so close with Abigail.’
‘It’s not close.’
‘He’s looking at her much too lingeringly.’ She turned to Edge. ‘Are you going to let him get away with it?’
He didn’t move, but she heard a snort of air from his nostrils. ‘I insisted he accept the invitation for that very purpose.’
Her eyes widened. This wasn’t the same Edgeworth she’d known her whole life.
He took her by the arm and led them from the music and back to the refreshments. He bent his head low so his voice wouldn’t carry. ‘When you told me that everyone believed I’m interested in your sister, I made sure Fox knew it wasn’t true and insisted he attend to change the perception.’
She stopped, mouth gaping, and reached for a glass. ‘You can’t be serious? Foxworthy?’
He nodded.
‘But you’ve always... I’ve heard the rumours—that you warned men to—’
‘To take care around the Hightower sisters.’
‘Around Abigail.’
‘Lily and the sister she watches over.’
‘Because we’re neighbours. Because Abigail and I often were next door.’ She put the lemonade to her lips.
‘Certainly,’ he said. ‘And because I didn’t want another man near you.’
She spewed droplets of lemonade over his coat.
She coughed, her hand over her mouth, choked. She followed with another sip to keep herself from coughing again. ‘My apologies,’ she croaked out.
‘Not a problem.’ He pulled out a handkerchief and offered it in her direction. She shook her head. He dusted off the front of his coat while he studied her.
‘Could you repeat that?’ she asked.
* * *
One musician began a softer tune and the other players joined in as background, the evening slowing down. On her right, a group of older gentlemen discussed the Chancery Court’s recent decision deciding the guardianship of a child.
Edgeworth led her to the other side, almost behind where the musicians were, and used them as a buffer to keep the conversation quiet.
Lily looked at him. Gauging Edgeworth’s thoughts in bright light wasn’t easy and in the muted shadows she could see only the barest amount and had to rely on his voice. He examined her just as closely.
‘I realised you haven’t always known,’ he said. ‘Our understanding. I thought you did. I thought you would have told me, nicely, if you’d not agreed, so I accepted that we both thought the same.’
‘Known? Understanding?’ She spoke rapidly. ‘I knew you—were going to court Abigail and I had to make certain she never stepped one foot wrong. You seemed to pay attention—’
‘You were always together. I couldn’t see you without seeing her.’
‘Me?’ She tilted her head to the side.
He looked at her, his eyes narrowing. ‘Yes. Of course.’
‘You know how different Abigail and I are. She’s like lace and I’m more—’ she couldn’t think of a word that wouldn’t be insulting to herself ‘—practical.’
‘Practical. Sensible. It’s all the same.’
‘I’m...’ She couldn’t say the words.
All eyes watched a duchess. Her events were well attended and filled with lace-like people. A duchess would think nothing of meeting someone in the royal family. Other peers. Lots of people. People who couldn’t help sharing little whispers.
She crossed her arms over herself. He’d never understand. ‘Why did