Duel of Hearts by Anita Mills Page B

away, but then she did not truly wish to make a scene. Looking up at him, she realized her father had been right—Viscount Lyndon did look much like a Greek god. Studying him covertly though thick lashes, she had to admit she was not entirely invulnerable to his handsomeness. He was quite tall, probably six inches taller than she, and he wore that softly waving blond hair of his brushed forward in the classical style. His chin was well-defined, unlike some of the more inbred of the nobility she’d seen, his nose was as patrician as an ancient Roman’s and his eyes were the deep, brilliant blue of a lake on a bright summer’s day. The total effect was devastating to a female’s peace of mind.
    â€œWell, do I pass your inspection, my dear?” he murmured with a slightly wry twist to his altogether too sensuous mouth.
    She jumped guiltily and nearly missed a step. “I do not know what you mean, my lord,” she muttered. “I was but trying to appear interested, according to your instructions.”
    â€œWell, are you?” He gazed lazily down, meeting your eyes.
    â€œOf course not.”
    â€œThen do keep up the pretense, for I quite enjoy it.”
    â€œThere is no end to your conceit, is there?”
    He turned her expertly to the last notes of the waltz, and almost immediately she was claimed by a distant cousin of his. “I say, Lyndon,” the pleasant-faced man greeted Tony. “You cannot stay in her pocket all night—’twould be monstrous unfair to the rest of us.”
    â€œDavenham,” Tony acknowledged. “Leah, you recall Arthur, from the receiving line, do you not? He inherited from Aunt Hester’s husband.” His eyes twinkling as he handed her over, Tony bowed in her direction. “Sets are forming, my dear, and I collect he wishes to lead you out. Servant, Coz.”
    Irritated by her betrothed’s almost cavalier dismissal of her, Leah flashed the expectant duke her most enchanting smile and took his arm. Tony, on the other hand, stepped back to watch them, his face sober for a moment, and then a satisfied smile warmed his eyes. For all her words and airs, Leah Cole was more like other females than she would care to admit. And he had not a doubt in the world that he could win her. Slowly he walked from the dance floor.
    â€œI say, Tony—Miss Cole is an Incomparable!” Gil Renfield caught his sleeve to halt him. “It ain’t fair, but you have stolen the march on all of us, you know.” Leaning closer, he added under his breath, “But I own I was surprised to read you was marrying her—until I discovered her papa is Jeptha Cole.”
    â€œDashed shock,” Hugh Rivington murmured behind them, “but I daresay it don’t matter she’s a Cit when one counts the settlements. Give it to the duchess, though—thought of everything, didn’t she? Can’t understand why she invited Rotherfield, though, unless she wanted the tabbies to talk more about him than your Miss Cole.”
    â€œRotherfield—here?” Tony gave a surprised start and observed dryly, “ ’Tis not his sort of amusement.”
    â€œCame in while you was dancing with Miss Cole. Thought you knew of it—I mean, he stood right here and watched you, didn’t he, Gil?”
    â€œUh-huh. Said she looked good enough to grace his table, if you could credit it.”
    â€œWell, he’s—” Tony stopped in mid-sentence, his attention suddenly riveted on the dark-haired woman who stood in the doorway. “You will have to pardon me.”
    â€œNow, I know the duchess did not invite her,” Gil said with certainty.
    But Anthony Barsett had already left him standing as ι he moved quickly to intercept Elaine Chandler. He caught her before she’d actually entered the ballroom, but he was still too late—already her presence had been remarked, and there was a ripple of malicious