Geek Girls Don't Date Dukes (22 page)

so much easier if she could just send him a quick text to

check on him. Sighing to herself, she descended the stairs

and entered the drawing room. She’d spent the last few

days convincing herself Avery’s kiss was a fluke. She had

a different destiny to chase…and Avery’s broad shoulders

and warm hands weren’t part of it.

“Ah, here she is.” Lady Chesterfield rose in a flurry

of rose- colored lace and feathers. Leah was beginning to

wonder about all the poor little birds that were running

around in the buff because of her patroness.

“Dearest Leah, this is Miss Alexandra Stapleton, my

eldest sister.” Lady Chesterfield gestured to a woman

dressed all in drab brown, who rose with a sour expression.

Leah bobbed a curtsey. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,

ma’am.”

Miss Stapleton shot Leah a dirty look. “Amelia,

whatever can you be thinking to bring such a creature

into your home? Graves has informed me of her previous

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employment. You cannot present her into society. It

would mean your ruination.”

“Oh, rubbish.” Lady Chesterfield plopped down on

the cushions. Leah followed, grimacing inwardly while

maintaining her polite smile.

“She is a quick study and infinitely clever. She shall

take the ton by storm, you mark my words. And none

shall doubt her origin once we’ve spread the tale of her

relation to my dear Chesterfield.” Lady Chesterfield

fluffed her feathered collar.

Leah toed a discarded fluff beneath the coffee table,

wishing she were a thousand miles— or a hundred fifty

years— away. What if she failed? What if everyone found

out that only last week she was nothing more than a

dishwashing dust- clad domestic? She stiffened her spine

and laced her fingers together in her lap primly.

Miss Stapleton sniffed. “How can a mere servant, with

no position or breeding, possibly masquerade as one of

her betters?”

Whoa, nobody discredited Leah’s acting skill. If they

wanted to disparage the way she dressed? Fine. The

extra weight she’d picked up after the shit with Kevin?

Fair game. But her passion for acting was sacrosanct,

and she’d be damned if she let a comment like that go

without a fight.

“Alexandra, you must give Miss Ramsey a chance to

prove herself. She is, well…” Lady Chesterfield took a

sip of tea. “She is from a land much more advanced than

ours. Also, she is an experienced actress.”

“An actress!”

Lady Chesterfield could have said Leah had shoveled shit

for a living and gotten a less horrified response than that.

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Miss Stapleton splayed a hand across her nonexistent

breasts. “Amelia, how could you sully your home with a

woman of her stamp?”

Stamp? Leah scanned her memory, trying to make

sense of the overblown reaction. Wait, did this woman

think she was a hooker?

Leah shoved to her feet. “Pardon me, madam, but

you are grossly mistaken. I was invited to live with the

incredibly generous Lady Chesterfield, and she has no

problem with my past. I would hope that such a beloved

relative would trust the baroness’s judgment.” Leah let

her nostrils flare slightly as she looked down at Miss

Stapleton. With her raised chin and solemn glare, she was

sure she resembled an avenging monarch.

“How dare you imply that I do not trust my sister?”

Miss Stapleton hissed. “You are a charlatan. I knew it.”

Lady Chesterfield sat forward and held up a calming

hand. “Now, now, dearest sister, you misunderstand.

Miss Ramsey is from a society much removed from ours.

She bears no ill will toward me or you. I have seen to it.”

Leah eased back down onto the sofa, not losing

the firm set to her chin. She kept silent As much as

she disliked the deception, she knew it was necessary.

She hadn’t wanted to cause problems within Lady

Chesterfield’s family. Damn it, this was more compli-

cated than she’d thought it would be.

Lady Chesterfield handed her a cup of tea, and Leah

sipped it slowly. More drinking, less talking. That would

be her motto for the rest of Miss Stapleton’s visit.

Lady Chesterfield smiled winningly. “Now, I have

asked you to come and to meet Miss Ramsey because we

are preparing for her come- out.”

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“Come-

out?” Miss Stapleton held her cup of tea

out for Lady Chesterfield to refill. “She is of rather an

advanced age for a debutante, is she not?”

Leah gritted her teeth together so hard she feared

they’d crack.

“Sister, look at her complexion. She is as beautiful as

any young miss in their first season. With her figure and

my clever Muriel’s coiffures, no one shall ever guess that

she is past the first bloom of her youth.”

So she was both a swindler and old now? This little

trip wasn’t doing a helluva lot for her ego.

“Well, if this is the course you are set upon, far be it

from me to dissuade you. Do you have any gentlemen in

mind for the chit? Mr. Rutledge, perhaps, or Sir Thomas

Edwards?” Miss Stapleton brought her teacup to her lips.

Lady Chesterfield bounced in excitement, fluttering

her feathers like duck drying itself. “She is destined for a

man much greater than that. None will do for our Miss

Ramsey but the esteemed Duke of Granville himself.”

Leah didn’t know whether to laugh at Miss Stapleton’s

near- perfect spit- take or to be even more depressed.

“The Duke of Granville?” Miss Stapleton’s hand

shook as she set down her teacup and began daubing at

the droplets on her gown with a plain handkerchief.

I
don’t know why she bothers. They’re the same damn color.

Leah hoped her eye roll went unnoticed.

“Of course,” Lady Chesterfield laughed. “Miss

Ramsey is more than capable of capturing his attention.”

“It is not that,” Miss Stapleton said, giving up on her

gown. “It is only”— she darted her glance back and forth

as if afraid someone would hear them— “he is of such

an advanced age. He has his heir, and though he may

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wish to marry again, I had rather thought, well…” She

trailed off.

“Thought what?” Damn it, Leah hadn’t meant to

say anything.

Miss Stapleton didn’t bother to look Leah’s way,

keeping her gaze trained on her sister as she replied. “He

might be searching for a different sort of woman. One

with more experience in society, perhaps. The dowager

duchess is rumored to be very demanding.”

Leah opened her mouth to reply, but Lady Chesterfield

waved her hand dismissively.

“Rubbish. Utter and complete rubbish. He is a

gentleman, not a child, and as such will make a perfect

mate for our Miss Ramsey. Now, dear sister, have you

spoken with Lady Oberlin of late?”

The sisters began chatting about people Leah didn’t

know while the tea grew cold in her cup.

Their age difference was pretty damn obvious. But

she’d thought that wouldn’t matter as much in this day

and age. Had she been wrong? Miss Stapleton had stared

pretty hard at her sister when she’d said that. Did Miss

Stapleton have designs on the duke? An elderly spinster

probably didn’t have many prospects in this time. Too

bad eHarmony didn’t have a Regency England branch.

Leah stared into the patterned carpet, the rich colors

seeming to swirl under her gaze. If Lady Chesterfield

helped Leah with the duke, then found out later that

her own sister had wanted him, would she resent Leah

for stealing Miss Stapleton’s chance at happiness? Or

did Miss Stapleton mean she thought Lady Chesterfield

would be more suited to the duke? They had to be pretty

close in age. But how could she abandon the possibility

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without even getting to know him? So he was older.

That wasn’t a deal breaker, right?

With a heavy sigh, Leah lifted the cup to her lips

and took a swig of cool tea. She grimaced at the taste.

What a complicated trip this was turning out to be. She

really wished she had a friend to talk to— someone who

understood her or at least knew her a little better than

Lady Chesterfield or Muriel.

Someone like…

She bit her lip. Maybe she’d go calling once the less-

than- pleasant Miss Stapleton had gone.

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Seventeen

He’d won the match, but if he weren’t careful, he’d

lose his life. Prachett’s threat was not an idle one. Avery

had seen other fighters defy the man before, and the

results were never pleasant. But what choice had he had?

None at all.

Avery huddled in his coat atop the carriage by the

coachman as the carriage wound through damp and

dank streets toward Grosvenor Square. The rain and cold

might be miserable, but they were infinitely preferable to

remaining at the Houndstooth and facing Prachett again.

Fortunately, the duke was not interested in the other

matches and had opted to leave before the crowds. His

Grace had been curiously silent, not congratulating his

valet on the victory. Any other victory would have had

the duke clapping him on the shoulder, cheering like a

lad. But today? Not a word had left his lips. Yet another

worry to be added to Avery’s lot.

Avery shifted in the seat and winced as his muscles

cried out in protest. It didn’t matter that he was battered

and bruised. He had won, and he must plan now for a

way to avoid Prachett’s anger. His aunt could not go

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without medicine. He’d bear what he must in order to

protect his only family. He pulled his cloak tighter against

him as if it could keep out the coming trouble as well as

the downpour.

The carriage pulled to a halt in front of Granville

House. The coachman leapt down and opened the

door for Granville while Avery clambered down slowly

and painfully.

“Russell.” The duke spoke without looking Avery’s

way. “You will attend me immediately.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Shivering with cold, wet to the bone, Avery hung

his sodden coat by the front door. Smythe, who had

taken the duke’s hat and cloak, cast a glance over at him.

Avery thought he may have detected the slightest hint of

curiosity in the older man’s gaze before the butler turned

and walked away. As his footsteps echoed down the long

hallway, Avery’s thoughts turned to Miss Ramsey.

How was she faring with the curious Lady Chesterfield?

Had she made her debut during the week he’d been

gone? Was she being accepted, or was she shunned

because of her lack of connections?

The longing in his chest intensified as he entered the

duke’s study. Wherever she was, whomever she loved,

he wished her every happiness in the world. It was best

that she’d gone. When Prachett caught up with Avery,

he hoped that Leah would be miles, or years, away.

“Close the door behind you, Russell.” Lord Granville

settled into the chair behind his large desk, primly tenting

his fingers.

Avery obeyed. The soft click of the latch felt like

the gates of hell closing him in. Swallowing hard and

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setting his jaw, Avery turned and stood tall while facing

his employer.

The duke didn’t say anything for several long moments.

His keen gaze raked Avery from the top of his head to

the toes of his boots, missing nothing. The swelling and

bruising on his body would go down in a few days, but

for the moment, Avery knew he looked nothing like a

duke’s valet should. Would Lord Granville finally realize

Avery’s unworthiness for the position?

“I was approached at the tourney today by a Mr.

Thomas Prachett.” The words were spoken softly, but

that didn’t countermand their seriousness. “He said that

you owed him a great deal of money, lad. What have

you to say to that?”

Protests brimmed on Avery’s tongue, but he bit them

back. He couldn’t tell the duke the depth of his involve-

ment with Prachett. The fighting was one thing, but if

Granville knew he’d been forced into throwing matches?

He’d probably be out on his ear in a trice. He answered

in as calm a tone as he could manage. “Prachett was my