“I believe you are the victor,” he said in a deep, warm voice, as pleasant on the ears as his appearance was on the eyes.
Evelyn almost responded that she was, until she remembered that she was just the one who had thrust Selina’s hand up in the air and called out the final sum. She was the assistant to the victor, the mastermind who intended to get her friend out of her dangerous entanglement.
“This is Miss Selina Parsons,” Evelyn said quickly, once she realized that Selina was not saying anything.
Instead, she was staring coolly at Hugo, refusing to take his proffered hand.
“She is the eldest daughter to Baron Molesley,” Evelyn continued, flashing a strained smile at Selina as if to say,Come on, you must play along!
Hugo’s gaze had not left Selina’s, and he did not seem too dismayed that she was not falling at his feet as most of the other nearby ladies appeared to want to do. Rather, Selina’s indifference seemed to make Hugo’s smile widen and his eyes glitter with greater amusement.
“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Parsons,” Hugo said, bowing his head to her. “I am, as my dear cousin’swife might have mentioned, Hugo St. Vincent, the Duke of Ravenvale.”
Selina dipped into the least enthusiastic of curtsies. “A pleasure, Your Grace.”
Evelyn grimaced inwardly, for there was not even the hint of delight in her friend’s voice.
Nevertheless, Hugo appeared unaffected by Selina’s coldness. “I must say, I did not realize that I was of such value… though, in truth, I did not know that I would be part of the auction until a few minutes ago. If I had, perhaps I would have done something to increase the bidding: played something tolerably on the pianoforte, maybe sung a little ditty, or recited the first pages ofParadise Lost, so that everyone might think that I know the entire thing by heart. Of course, I do not; I am no glutton for punishment, but it makes for an excellent trick at parties.”
Evelyn chuckled and glanced encouragingly at Selina, who remained stony faced and unmoved by the duke’s first attempt at humor.
“Are they real roses in your hair?” he asked Selina in that warm, inviting voice, his hand moving as if he meant to touch the flowers, before withdrawing at the last moment.
“Silk,” Selina replied stiffly.
“They are? But they look so lifelike,” he remarked, his gaze flitting to the flowers before returning to Selina’s face. “I half imagined you out in the warm sunshine this afternoon, carefully picking the best ones to complement your hair and your complexion.”
Selina shrugged. “I have had them for years.”
The gentleman was known for his charm, yet it did not seem to be having any effect upon Evelyn’s friend at all. Indeed, Selina was beginning to get a few annoyed looks from the nearest guests, particularly the young debutantes, who were probably wondering why she bid at all if she was not interested.
Selina will come around to the idea; I know she will.
Evelyn had to admit that Hugo’s famed charm was somewhat… predictable, the practiced compliments and observations of someone who did this often. Not a rake, perhaps, or she would have read about it in the scandal sheets, but certainly a gentleman who was not a stranger to flirtation.
Still, he was far more preferable than Sir Anthony. At least Hugo was actually looking for a wife instead of toying with as many women as possible, and he was wealthy and handsome. A prize, indeed.
“Would you care to dance, Miss Parsons?” Hugo asked. “That is, if there is a place for me upon your dance card.”
Selina looked away toward the dance floor, where the orchestra was beginning a new piece in the interim before the next item, or person, for auction could be announced. Indeed, the other guests were slowly losing interest in the conversation, turning their attention back to the Duchess of Alderwick, who seemed to be discussing something with another man.
“I think not,” Selina replied. “My feet are rather sore.”
“I am sorry to hear that,” Hugo said amiably. “I suppose that is the disadvantage of having such an auction as this near to the end of the dancing. Although I cannot say that I saw you upon the dance floor, Miss Parsons. If I had, I would surely have remembered you.”
Fighting the urge to roll her eyes, Evelyn stared down at her reticule instead, pretending there was a loose bead.
Meanwhile, Selina leveled a cold stare at him. “You are right, Your Grace, I have not danced tonight. I hurt my ankle during a walk yesterday.”
“I am even sorrier to hear that,” Hugo said. “If I can be of any assistance, do let me know. I have an excellent physician who could tend to you, should you need it.”
“That will not be necessary,” Selina insisted.
“Nevertheless, I suggest we do not promenade on our first outing,” he said, that lovely, warm smile refusing to leave hisface no matter how icily Selena stared at him or spoke to him. “Do you favor the opera, Miss Parsons? At least there, we may sit, and your ankle will not trouble you. And if the opera is particularly bad, you may even get some rest.”
A faint smile quirked Evelyn’s lips, while Selina offered no sign of amusement at all. Instead, she crossed her arms over her chest, unleashed a weary sigh and, with a resigned glance at Evelyn, gave her answer.
“The opera would be… pleasant, thank you.”
