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Lady Greenburg’s eyes snapped at the man in front of Evie. “Lady Dunstable, Lady Evelyn, may I present the Duke of Wingate.”
“Your Grace.” Her mother dipped into a deep curtsey and Evie did the same despite the clumps of pudding still falling off her dress.
Wingate gave her a half smile, his eyes dancing with amusement as he watched her execute the curtsey.
Behind the two matrons, more guests filled the servants’ hall, the whispered voices making heat rise into her cheeks. She’d have to pass every guest looking like this. What a nightmare.
For a brief second her eyes closed as attempted to will away the embarrassment that was about to befall her. She hated this kind of public attention. Her skin crawled with discomfort and her heart pounded in her chest.
But before her eyes opened again, something warm and heavy dropped around her shoulders.
She snapped open her eyes to find herself swimming in a man’s coat, the duke’s noticeably absent. “Your Grace?”
He held out his hand, and tentatively she placed her fingers into his. She’d removed her gloves to help Mrs. Derby and now their bare skin brushed together, causing a shiver to race down her spine.
“Back upstairs, everyone,” he called out. “I’ll join you momentarily.”
Everyone complied. Even Lady Greenburg. Only she, her mother, and Mrs. Derby remained.
She breathed a sigh of relief, thankful that he’d had the power to rectify the situation though she also knew everyone would have stayed upstairs if it had been someone else who’d entered through the kitchen. He brought a great deal of attention simply by being a duke.
Her mother’s brows were so high, they were practically disappearing into her hairline. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Your Grace.”
“And you as well. You must accept my sincerest apologies for the gown. The fault was mine.”
So, it had been an apology after all.
Then he looked to Evie again. “And I’d be most honored if you’d take a special seat next to me at dinner this evening.”
Her mother stepped forward. “There will be dancing, Your Grace. Perhaps you could claim Lady Evelyn’s dinner dance?”
Evie felt more heat rising up her neck. Could her mother be any more obvious?
But His Grace have a quick nod. “Quite right. Excellent idea.”
She blinked in surprise.
Was she going to dance with the duke?
Drat. That sort of attention was the very last thing she’d wished for. How had coming to the kitchen landed her in such a mess?
