Page 62 of To Ensnare a Duke

"Your mind seems far away," Madam Foxford inquires. "Is there something in particular that bothers you?"

"No doubt it's the coming nuptials," Madam Birchleigh teases. "I remember you telling me how difficult it was for you to plan a wedding in so short of time."

"Yours was a quick engagement as well? How intriguing."

"Not really," her husband Foxford cuts in. "She was at the end of a nefarious plot, and I swooped in to rescue her. Simple as that."

She glares at him for a moment, setting her silverware down. "Rescued me? I seem to recall it being a bit different than that."

His eyes darken as he smiles over at her, reminding me of Portswell when he's overcome with angry desire for me. Fascinating. Perhaps I'll learn more from their interactions than I ever did from the common men I hobnobbed with.

"And I recall you being a recalcitrant miss who didn't want to wed in the first place."

"Not when the prospective groom was being such an ogre."

He turns to the rest of us, his hand on his heart. "Am I really such a beast?"

"Yes," the men all chime in, hiding their smiles in their cups or food.

"A plot against you. I dare say that sounds all rather terrifying."

"I shall have to regale you with the tale, but perhaps at a later date. That is, if you would have me in your home after your nuptials?"

"Of course," I cry out, joy flooding my heart at the eager faces smiling at me. "I would be honored to have such a fine friend."

"And me too, of course," Madam Birchleigh chimes in, her smile just as blinding.

Off to the side, the Madam Blackport gives a soft, almost shy grin. "It would be an honor for me as well."

"There now," Portswell beams. "My bride-to-be and my friends coming together."

"Hear Hear," they all shout, their faces beaming with what I can only assume is pride, love, and happiness.

It's humbling, really, to go from knowing nearly no one, and preferring it that way, to having more friends than I know what to do with. My heart flutters as I glance up at Portswell, taking in his easy grin and relaxed manner. It's the most at ease I've seen him in a while.

As we all finish up, the men stand and start making plans for what they plan to do for the evening. The Madams Foxford and Birchleigh smile at me, their grins far wider than expected. I know this look. I wear this look often enough to recognize it in another.

Mischief. Pure and simple.

My gut churns as the butterflies race around my ribcage once more. Could it be that these prim and proper ladies actually know how to have a bit of fun?

"Fear not, gentle husbands," Madam Foxford proclaims, sliding next to me and threading her arm through mine. "We shall keep the bride-to-be occupied and in merry spirits while you celebrate the upcoming nuptials with the good Duke of Portswell."

Foxford narrows his eyes at us and crosses his arms. "Why am I reluctant to leave now? What mischief do you have up your silken sleeves?"

"Why, Your Grace?" she calls out, her eyes widening a touch. "Whatever do you imply? We simply wish to know the dear who is about to enter into our fold."

Again, he glowers down at the woman, sending a thrum of apprehension up my spine. He doesn't look happy. I'm not sure what it is between them that causes such vexation, but I'm torn. Part of me wants nothing to do with it.

Unfortunately, the part that gets a thrill from mischief wants to wade into the deep end and swim with the best of them. Across the room, Foxford cracks his knuckles, his eyes darkening just like Portswell when he's about to inflict some deviant punishment on me.

"You will do well to heed my words, wife. Tonight is to be a quiet night at home. Understood?"

"Of course, my dear husband. I have nothing else planned at the moment. We shall take a dessert, perhaps play some whist?"

Portswell groans and runs his hand over his face. "Careful playing with Miss Hunt. She will take you for everything you own."

"Then it's settled," she claps, her face lighting up. "She will be our tutor in the game. Have you a deck handy?"