Beguiling the Beauty Read Online Free PDF Page B

stayedbehind. Helena’s maid had left service a year ago to marry and was never replaced.
     
    Venetia had not thought much of it at that time—Helena stayed with either Venetia or Fitz and Millie and it was easy enough for Hattie or Bridget to see to her. Now she wondered whether the oversight had been deliberate on Helena’s part. Without a maid whose duties revolved entirely around her, Helena had one fewer person to keep track of her movements.
     
    Had Helena
planned
her affair, clearing the obstacles one by one? Venetia did not relish the possibility.
     
    Well, Helena could still change her mind. Perhaps the sight of a very proper, very unmarried young man was just the nudge she needed. And surely it must be providence, or the duke, who’d been as elusive as the Holy Grail for so long, would not suddenly appear at this particular juncture in their lives.
     
    Venetia reached for her gloves. “I am ready to cast my eyes upon Lexington. Anyone else?”
     
    T hey arrived half an hour early, but Sanders Theatre, the Harvard auditorium, was already packed. Only in the last row did they manage to find three seats together.
    Millie glanced about. “My goodness, look at all the women in attendance.”
     
    Helena adjusted the angle of her new, suitably opulent hat. “Not surprising when the lecturer is a young, rich duke. It looks like you will have competition, Venetia.”
     
    “Maybe they are just curious,” said Venetia breezily. “With so many of their grand heiresses marrying ourpenniless lords, they must be dying to see what an Englishman who doesn’t need money looks like.”
     
    “You’ve never seen one of those, either, right, Millie?” Helena teased.
     
    “Not in my marriage I have not.” Millie chortled.
     
    “At least your poor English peer is handsome,” said Venetia.
     
    “That he is, handsomer than Apollo.”
     
    The compliment toward her husband was uttered with perfect matter-of-factness, not a single flutter to her voice or the slightest coloring of her cheeks.
     
    Yet for years now Venetia had wondered whether Millie wasn’t secretly in love with the man who’d married her solely for her fortune. He treated her with courtesy and—in recent years—affection. But his heart, Venetia feared, would always belong to the woman he’d given up for the sake of duty.
     
    “Chances of you being as lucky, Venetia,” said Helena, “are next to nil. A quid says the duke looks like the Hunchback of Notre-Dame.”
     
    “Hmm.” Venetia mused. “Is there such a thing as a young, rich, ugly duke?”
     
    And if there was, he was not the Duke of Lexington, whose appearance upon the dais brought forth a collective sigh of admiration. He was indeed handsome—not the gentle, boyish looks that appealed most strongly to Venetia, but lean and angular: deep-set eyes, straight nose, high cheekbones, and firm lips.
     
    Millie approved. “He has the look of a Roman senator, very magisterial, very distinguished.”
     
    “How old is the family, exactly?” Venetia asked.
     
    “Very old,” affirmed Millie. “A de Montfort fought at William the Conqueror’s side.”
     
    A Harvard professor launched into a long introduction that was more about himself than the duke. Lexington stayed true to his breeding and displayed neither boredom nor irritation, only a neutral awareness of his surroundings.
     
    Venetia noted with relief that he was also tall enough for Helena, whose height sometimes deterred young men who did not find themselves sufficiently towering. She glanced at Helena, hoping to see a spark of interest on her sister’s face. After all, the duke was everything Helena had always said she wanted. But Helena’s countenance showed only a bland politeness.
     
    “Are you satisfied, Venetia?” whispered Millie. “Will you make him the luckiest man alive?”
     
    Venetia remembered that she ought to keep up her pretense of matrimonial interest in the duke. “It will depend on the size of