Courting Miss Lancaster by Sarah M. Eden Page A

hard at overcoming.” Sir Hubert sighed as if his attempts at being a complete and utter cad had thoroughly exhausted him.
    Athena was speechless, stunned.
    “Her Grace could be a rather pretty lady if only her very plain coloring did not render her so entirely unremarkable.”
    As if to prove that her previous state of surprise was only minimal, Athena felt something akin to shock settle over her. Sir Hubert spoke in absolutely serious tones. It wasn’t the arrogant superiority of Mr. Peterbrook. Sir Hubert didn’t profess to be, himself, the epitome of good looks. He occupied himself with offering scathing evaluations of any and all around him, regardless of their proximity.
    “But, then, Kielder couldn’t exactly be picky, could he?” Sir Hubert flicked his gaze momentarily over Persephone, obvious disapproval in his eyes. “Compared to him, any lady would seem a beauty.”
    Persephone didn’t so much as flinch, but Athena saw that she had turned alarmingly pale and that she had not completely hidden the pain that lurked in the depths of her eyes. Doubts over her attractiveness was one of Persephone’s most tender vulnerabilities. Athena knew as much. Persephone seldom let her poise slip, but Athena was painfully aware that Persephone far too often thought of herself in just the way Sir Hubert had described: “entirely unremarkable.” Seeing her sister’s hard-won composure had Athena instantly on the verge of tears.
    What a horrid, acidic man!
    “You are making your fish face again,” Sir Hubert said to Athena, nose crinkled as if she smelled like a fish rather than simply looked like one. “There is not likely to be another gentleman whose desperation allows him to overlook such things. Not all unfortunate females have the luck your sister did.”
    “You do realize, Sir Hubert,” Mr. Dalforth said, reminding Athena of his presence at her side, “these two ladies are the Duke of Kielder’s wife and sister-in-law. He is unlikely to take kindly to your slanderous comments.”
    “They can hardly be slanderous when they are true.” Sir Hubert smiled almost pityingly. “No gentleman of discernment could deny that Her Grace is plain by any standards. His Grace, I am certain, has noticed as much. He is, after all, missing an ear, not an eye. It makes sense, does it not, that any lady desperate enough to marry a man like the duke would have to be in possession of a face so lacking in beauty as to have exhausted all hope of making a more agreeable match.”
    Athena had always thought that ladies who gasped in shock did so purely for the dramatic effect. But the quick, audible breath she took was unintentional and very much the result of her all-consuming surprise.
    “And, once again,” Sir Hubert motioned in Athena’s direction, “Miss Lancaster demonstrates so ably my point about her fishlike tendencies. I swear to you, she looks very much like a carp I caught not long ago at Hoppleforth.”
    Athena bit on her lip to stop its quivering so she would not give Sir Hubert the satisfaction of seeing that his words injured her. Nor would she disgrace herself in public and give him further reason to berate her. She slipped her gaze to Harry across the table, silently pleading for an escape. She knew that he, somehow, would know precisely what she needed. He always did.
    “Your Grace,” Harry spoke with all the deference a duchess ought to be afforded but with an air of confidence and authority as well, “I fear this evening’s guest list has proven far too common, ” he speared Sir Hubert with a look of such superiority that Athena hardly recognized the usually affable Harry Windover, “for your company. I would suggest we make our way to our next engagement, where those present are more likely to be counted among those on a more even plane with yourself.”
    As a set-down it was remarkably good. But Sir Hubert seemed unscathed.
    “Allow me to offer my escort as well,” Mr. Dalforth interjected, the two