She Tempts the Duke by Lorraine Heath Page A

accompanied her into dinner, he was no doubt somewhat mollified to find himself sitting beside his betrothed. The poor chit he’d escorted into dinner was ignored as the viscount sought to engage Mary in conversation. Once he had her attention, Tristan began cleverly luring her back to him. Sebastian suspected she’d have a stiff neck before the night was done.
    However, he couldn’t deny he appreciated the view he had of her. From beneath her lashes, she met his gaze and damned if it wasn’t as though she’d reached across the table and touched him. He lifted his wineglass in a silent salute, which she returned with a soft smile. His gaze followed the slope of her throat to her bared décolletage. Her skin was a creamy white that drew the eye, but then everything about her commanded attention.
    She turned away as Fitzwilliam diverted her once again. He wondered if the viscount was an exceptional conversationalist or if he was as boring as his clothing. Black and white. Not a single thread of color.
    “Amazing, isn’t she?” Lady Ivers said so quietly that no one else heard, and the heat burned his cheeks at being caught staring at Mary. “One can hardly countenance that she had no formal preparation for her own Season. But then what do nuns know of etiquette outside of the church?”
    All Sebastian’s personal discomforts in this situation vanished, and he studied the countess as though she’d just spoken in a foreign language. “Nuns?”
    “Quite.” She blinked, offered a slight smile, then appeared flummoxed. “Oh, my word.” Her voice went even lower. “Did I let the cat out of the bag? I would have thought she told you, but then I suppose in reflection that it is not something about which one boasts—even to an old friend. But yes, her father sent her to a nunnery when she was little more than twelve. In spite of my earnest objections. She was already ensconced behind those walls by the time I found out. One of those orders that doesn’t allow visitors. I wanted to bring her to our home, but my husband insisted it was not my concern. The nerve. My sister’s daughter not my concern. I can tell you it was some months before he again found his bed warm.”
    If Sebastian weren’t still shocked and seething by this revelation he might have smiled at her acerbic tone.
    “Can you imagine a girl of her spirit being confined to such a restrained world?” she asked.
    Asking why the Earl of Winslow would do such a thing to his only daughter was on the tip of his tongue but he feared he knew. Surely not, but he couldn’t quiet his suspicions. The man was fortunate that Sebastian hadn’t known of this when he’d visited. He could hardly imagine a crueler fate for the girl who had once raced wildly over the moors with him.
    “I finally had enough of it. Put my foot down this year I tell you. Told Winslow to his face that if I was bringing my daughter to London for the Season that I was good and well bringing my dear sister’s daughter with me. Her dear mother would have wanted her to have a proper suitor.”
    “And is he? A proper suitor. Fitzwilliam.”
    She drew herself up as though she were responsible for the arrangement. “Oh, quite. He is the heir to Glenchester.”
    He tried to place the name—
    “Marquess,” she said as though she could see that he struggled.
    “It seems I am far less prepared than Lady Mary for a night such as this.”
    “Don’t concern yourself. You’ll get the hang of everything quickly enough. I suspect your father taught you a great deal that you’ve merely locked away.”
    He remembered the few times she and her family had visited. “Your husband. He’s not here tonight,” Sebastian said. “Are condolences in order?”
    “Oh, my dear, that would be quite premature. Unfortunately, some wretched problem with his tenants called him away to the estate for a few days. Quite honestly he prefers the country.”
    “I can relate to his preference.”
    She smiled. “I