The Duke in Denial (Scandal in Sussex) Read Online Free PDF Page A

unrecognizable save for his identification.
    Sebastian would be happy to provide for her regardless, but marriage would be more convenient, even if marrying his dead cousin’s fiancée struck him as old-fashioned. Perhaps antiquated customs should be expected when leaving one’s marital affairs in the hands of one’s aunt.
    Sebastian glanced from cousin to cousin.
    “He’s speechless!” Penelope crinkled her freckled nose. Even as a married woman, she had no trouble retaining her childlike nature, to the discomfort of the other guests, who turned toward her raucous laughter in puzzlement.
    Dorothea had the decency to blush at the commotion around her.
    “Would you care to join me?” He bent at his waist and stretched out his arm in his very best bow.
    Penelope squealed and clapped her gloved hands.
    “Certainly, Your Grace.” Dorothea rose and took his hand. Her muted violet dress rustled as she moved near him. The scent of roses pervaded the air around her, as if offering an aura of an idyllic life.
    “I trust my cousins amused you?”
    “They were most engaging, Your Grace.”
    “I don’t suppose I can tempt you to a cotillion?” Sebastian glanced to where the guests danced. He hated the thought of joining them. Women were able to hide their feet in long gowns, while any mistakes men made were on display for all to see. Would Dorothea want to dance? Her garb indicated her half-mourning status, but he wanted to give her the opportunity to enjoy herself.
    Dorothea’s dark eyelashes fluttered down. “It’s still too early.”
    Sebastian lowered his voice, finding himself leaning toward her ear. “You needn’t worry. I rather fancy a stroll around the ballroom, and I trust that would not shock the ton overly.”
    She gave a tentative smile, and her stiff-held shoulders relaxed a fraction.
    Sebastian offered his arm to her, and they started their stroll. “Tell me, have you enjoyed your time in London?”
    “As much as I can. It’s a lovely city. One forgets it when one is away, remembering only that it is too hurried, too populated. Then one discovers London is also wonderful, with grand buildings and clever people and enticing shops.”
    “I’m glad you find it so.”
    “And how are you coping?”
    “Me?” The question startled him.
    Dorothea smiled. “This is new for you.”
    He nodded. Few people had asked him that. He realized that Dorothea had had more time to adjust to the prospect of being a duchess than he had of being a duke.
    They ambled around the room, away from his aunt and cousins, and brushed past other couples heading for the crowded dance floor. Large crystal chandeliers dangled above, reflecting their images in miniature a thousandfold. The musicians played charmingly, exemplifying the superb job Aunt Beatrice did of putting the ball together.
    Sebastian turned to his companion, who seemed focused on the throngs surrounding them. Her gaze was intelligent, and he smiled at her absorption. Something about the way her nose curved reminded him of William. His breath caught in his chest at the memory of their meeting.
    He led her to the beverage table. A crowd swarmed around the drinks. Vivid carmine, isabella, and orange liquids shone out of silver punch bowls. The men and women paused as Sebastian and Dorothea neared. He forced his shoulders to relax, not desiring Dorothea to know his discomfit.
    He cursed his title. Everything he did, even gathering punch, was imbued with undue importance.
    Some of the eyes narrowed, and Dorothea tensed beside him. With a jolt, he realized the ton was focused on her instead. He frowned, unsure what had spurred their attention.
    “Negus or punch à la romaine?” he asked, keeping his tone light.
    “You needn’t . . .”
    She frowned, and he followed her gaze to a group of women. Their ages varied, but their sense of importance and corresponding sumptuous jewelry did not.
    “I want to.” His voice came out hoarsely. He stepped toward the table and