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“Oh, no, darling.” Artemis patted her knee. “If it weren’t for gentlemen behaving terribly at balls, I would’ve died of boredom long before this.”

Phoebe laughed softly. “What are they doing now?”

“Not much. Lady Penelope is dominating the conversation.” Artemis sighed. “I’m afraid she’s set her cap at your brother.”

Phoebe cocked her head. “Has she?”

“Yes, though I don’t suppose she has much chance.”

Phoebe shrugged. “As much as any lady, I suppose. My brother must marry eventually, and Lady Penelope is a fabulous heiress. He might think it a great advantage.”

“Really?” Artemis frowned, watching as the duke listened to Penelope’s chatter with his head propped on his left hand. He shifted restlessly, the red stone in his gold signet ring catching the light. His expression verged on boredom. “He doesn’t seem particularly enthralled by her.”

“Maximus is enthralled only by politics and his war against the gin trade,” Phoebe said, sounding much too wise for her years. “I don’t think he has any heart left over to give to a lady.”

Artemis shivered. “I wonder if Lady Penelope quite knows what she’s trying to ensnare?”

Phoebe turned her head slightly toward Artemis, her hazel eyes a bit sad. “Would she care? She seeks my brother’s title, not the man beneath.”

“No, I suppose you’re quite right,” Artemis said slowly. The realization was rather sad.

Lady Penelope leaned forward with a seductive smile, touched the duke’s sleeve lightly, and turned toward the box’s door.

Artemis recognized Penelope’s usual farewell to a handsome gentleman and began gathering Bon Bon. “I’m afraid we’re leaving now, but it was so nice to chat with you, Phoebe.”

The other woman smiled vaguely. “Enjoy the rest of the play.”

Then Artemis was making her way to the door, trotting to try to catch up with Penelope.

“Did you see the way the duke hung upon my words?” Lady Penelope hissed when Artemis was abreast of her.

“Oh, yes,” Artemis said, not entirely truthfully.

“I think that went very well,” Penelope said with evident satisfaction.

“I am so glad.” Penelope in a good mood might just be amenable to granting a favor. She cleared her throat delicately. “I wonder if I might have the morning off this Friday?”

Penelope’s brows drew together in irritation. “Whatever for?”

Artemis swallowed. “It’s visiting day.”

“I’ve already told you that you need to simply forget him,” Penelope scolded.

Artemis kept silent, for there wasn’t anything she could say that would help her cause—she knew because she’d already tried in the past.

Her cousin heaved a long-suffering sigh. “Very well.”

“Thank you—”

But Penelope’s thoughts were already back with her own affairs. “I saw His Grace’s gaze observe my décolletage at least once. That, in any case, is something that Miss Royle cannot compete with. She’s as flat as a boy.”

suddenly squeezed her hand. “There she is.”

Megs blinked. “Who?”

“Hippolyta Royle,” Hero murmured. “The lady there in that delicious shade of dark coffee brown and pink.” Megs followed the discreet incline of Hero’s head. A tall lady stood by herself, watching the crowd with hooded eyes. She couldn’t be called beautiful, but with her tawny complexion, dark hair, and regal bearing, she was certainly striking.

“Who is she?” Megs wondered aloud.

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