Free Bedding Lord Ned by Sally Mackenzie

broth.
    â€”Venus’s Love Notes
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    Could her situation get any worse? She’d vowed this year to accept the fact that Ned considered her merely a friend and not hope for more, but deep in her heart, no matter how much she tried to deny it, she had hoped. And now ...
    Dear God, he thought of her as a sister .
    Ellie’s stomach tightened into a hard knot, and she felt lightheaded, as if she might swoon. She tried to take a deep breath. She needed to appear calm, placid—as Ned had said, she needed to behave in her normal manner, her mask firmly in place, especially after just having spoken with him. The duchess, for one, was certain to guess exactly what had overset her, and Ellie did not care to reveal her feelings any more than she already had.
    She took another breath. She would be fine. She—
    â€œMiss Bowman?”
    â€œEep!” She jumped. Mr. Cox was standing right beside her.
    â€œForgive me for startling you.” Mr. Cox’s voice was grave, but his eyes twinkled. He inclined his head toward the painting. “Were you transfixed by this fellow’s sartorial splendor?”
    â€œWhat?” She looked at the portrait. The first Duke of Greycliffe—attired in an enormous lace ruff, a garish doublet, ballooning breeches, white clocked stockings, and high-heeled shoes with enormous pom-poms—glowered down at her. “N-no. I confess I wasn’t looking at the painting at all.”
    â€œThat’s good then. I was afraid you admired his elegance.” Mr. Cox grinned. “I can’t say I’d care to have to rig myself out in such finery—especially the shoes.”
    Ellie smiled back at him. He was the image of male perfection; any sensible woman would fall immediately in love with him.
    Many sensible women had—though not, it would seem, Lady Juliet. And not, unfortunately, Ellie. No matter how attractive Mr. Cox was, her heart refused to beat faster at his attentions. He was not Ned.
    Ned who was so unimpressed with her feeble charms that he viewed her as a sister, blast it.
    â€œThe shoes are remarkable.” Perhaps she just needed to try a little harder to find Mr. Cox appealing. “As you can see, the first duke was very fond of fashion. He reputedly cut a wide swath among the ladies of his time, leaving behind many broken hearts.”
    Mr. Cox shook his head. “Amazing. He looks the veriest popinjay, doesn’t he? But I confess we’ve got a similarly attired peer or two hanging on the walls at home.” He chuckled. “I imagine they would be equally horrified at my plain garb.”
    He spread out his arms slightly as if asking Ellie to survey his attire, so she did—not that she hadn’t already noted how well his coat and breeches fitted him. Unfortunately, her admiration was mostly academic.
    Still, she did feel some admiration. He was certainly much more appealing than Mr. Humphrey. And if there was something keeping him and Lady Juliet apart, then he and Ellie might be able to rub along tolerably well—well enough to produce a few children.
    She smiled, trying her best to flirt. “I think I could make some pom-poms for your shoes, if you like.”
    â€œNo, thank you.” He offered her his arm. “Will you take a turn around the room with me instead?”
    In past years, she would have declined and hurried off to hide in conversation with Ash. She glanced over to where Ash stood with Jack, Miss Wharton, and Lady Heldon. He—and Jack as well—looked as if they would eagerly welcome her if she tried to join them. She should—
    She should walk with Mr. Cox. As Ned had pointed out, she might be married now if she’d only cooperated with the duchess’s past efforts. Married, and perhaps already a mother.
    She wouldn’t waste another minute. She placed her hand on Mr. Cox’s sleeve. “I would be delighted to do so, sir. It is too bad it is so snowy out; the