The Irish Duchess by Patricia Rice

you very much,” she whispered.
    Well, there were some advantages to his title, Neville thought after he’d made the arrangements and left his retiring intended to her mother’s company. Marriageable females simply couldn’t say “no” to a duke of the realm. He didn’t like the notion that Gwyneth accepted his invitation simply because her family required it of her. Perhaps he should sound her out a little more when they were less closely watched.
    Noting Blanche searching the crowded ballroom, Neville scowled and used his greater height to follow the path of her gaze. Fiona had the art of disappearing almost down to the same perfection as Michael, who wasn’t anywhere to be seen either.
    Not seeing either the earl or Fiona, Neville pushed his way through the crowd to Blanche’s side. “Where’s Michael?” he demanded.
    “Oh, the library here has a collection of ships in bottles and he’s studying how it’s done.” She flashed him a brief smile. “It’s the only reason he agreed to come tonight.”
    Neville rolled his eyes in understanding. Michael’s eccentric propensities were well known both inside and outside his family. Anyone hoping to attract the Earl of Aberdare to their homes had to provide suitable entertainment, and a violin player didn’t count.
    “So Fiona has escaped her leash?” he asked without need of further explanation.
    “I’m afraid so. She was with the Lord Bennet just moments ago. I’m certain she’s perfectly safe with him. But the round has ended, and he hasn’t returned her here. I’m afraid she may have found someone more interesting. She doesn’t quite understand the proprieties yet, I’m afraid.”
    That was stating it mildly. Neville handed his almost empty glass to Blanche. “Stay here. I’ll find her. I need only look for a large throng of men.”
    Oddly enough, he saw no such gathering except in the gaming room, and Fiona wasn’t there. Beginning to worry, Neville systematically searched all the adjacent chambers. He found her in the last place expected—the library with Michael.
    Fiona looked up as Neville entered, wrinkled her nose, and returned to examining a large text spread out on the library table. Neville didn’t think Michael even knew she was there. The earl had apparently discovered the technique of collapsing the fragile wooden ships and had dismantled one and pulled it from its bottle. The pieces lay on the mantel before him.
    “Blanche is looking for you.” Not wishing to disturb Michael lest he forget how to put the ship back together, Neville whispered the warning.
    “I thought she was having a good time and didn’t want to disturb her.” She closed the text with a sigh. “I don’t suppose we could leave yet?”
    Surprised, still wary of his reaction to her physical presence, Neville kept a safe distance. “You seemed to be enjoying yourself. Did Bennet say something to disturb you?”
    “The viscount? Scarcely.”
    She waved a dismissive hand, a gesture that drew his attention to her bosom. He thought he detected a small beauty mark just to one side... Catching himself, Neville shook off his reverie and applied his attention to her petulant expression. Most young misses marking such a triumphant debut as she had made tonight would be preening with happiness. Fiona appeared distinctly bored.
    “You have captured the interest of half London’s eligible bachelors tonight. You should be ecstatic. Or do none of them suit your discriminating tastes?”
    She gave him a wry look and gestured again, this time deliberately drawing his attention to her breasts. “They are not seeing me, Your Grace. They are seeing these. I do believe if you’d lend me the use of some jewels, their eyes would cross and they would trip over their tongues and fall flat on their faces. Then I could have a veritable carpet of suitors to walk upon.”
    A choking noise from the mantel indicated Michael wasn’t quite so oblivious as he seemed. Neville scowled as