Free The Most to Lose by Laura Landon Page A

turn to stare at them, but she didn’t care. The warmth that rushed through her evaporated any embarrassment she might have felt.
    She turned to Amanda. “Why don’t you get something to drink, Amanda? Some hemlock, perhaps? Arsenic?”
    Amanda shifted in her chair and lifted her chin. She tried to look affronted, but failed. “You know very well that, if I leave now, I’ll lose my chair.”
    “There is always that possibility,” Celie said, giving Lord Haywood a half smile so he knew their comments were light banter.
    “Do you see what kind of personality our Lady Cecelia has, Lord Haywood? No wonder her brother, the duke, has given up trying to reform her.”
    “Who says I’ve given up?” a deep voice said from behind them.
    Celie’s breath caught, and both she and Amanda darted looks in the direction of the voice. Only Haywood didn’t seem affected by the Duke of Hadleigh’s presence.
    “Hadleigh,” Lord Haywood greeted after he’d risen to his feet.
    “Haywood. Lady Amanda.” The Duke of Hadleigh acknowledged them with the dignity befitting his title, but his voice contained a great deal of stiffness.
    The two enemies glared at each other for several tense seconds before Hadleigh spoke. He directed his question to Celie even though his intense stare didn’t shift from the Earl of Haywood’s face. “You realize you’ve attracted the attention of the entire room, Cecelia, don’t you?”
    Celie stopped herself from glancing around the room. Their joking banter, as well as Jonah’s laughter, may have drawn a bit of attention, but nothing compared to the attention Hadleigh drew by joining his sister and the Earl of Haywood.
    “I believe, if I’m not mistaken,” Celie said with a cordial smile on her face, “that you and Lord Haywood glaring at each other as if one of you might issue a challenge are attracting more attention than if I’d scream at the top of my voice. Perhaps both of you might be interested in taking your seats. There’s an empty chair to Amanda’s left, Hadleigh.”
    Celie took several breaths, praying that the tension around them would dissipate.
    It seemed to take forever before her brother made the first move. Only then did Haywood follow suit.
    “May I?” Hadleigh asked, indicating the chair beside Amanda.
    “I would be pleased,” Amanda answered.
    The duke sat in his chair as if he were chiseled from stone. He held his back regally straight and folded his arms across his chest.
    They sat in silence.
    Celie waited as long as she could stand the uncomfortable quiet, then leaned forward and whispered, “I just told Lord Haywood that, when I was younger, I remember watching the two of you leave for the opera.”
    Without indicating he’d heard her, Hadleigh answered, “How can you say that? You were just a child.”
    She and Amanda simultaneously turned their heads to glare at him. “Your Grace,” she said, knowing the use of his ducal title would gain his attention, “I am only six years your junior. By the time you’d reached the advanced age of eighteen, I was a young lady of twelve. In case you doubt me, I can recall several other incidents that happened when I was that age. Some of which you might prefer I not mention in public.”
    “Your sister’s always had an excellent memory, Your Grace .” The chiding tone of Amanda’s voice drew Hadleigh’s attention equally as sufficiently as Celie’s had. “I might suggest you dissuade her from recalling her childhood memories. Some of the incidents could well be embarrassing.”
    The shocked look on the Duke of Hadleigh’s face was as entertaining as anything Celie could remember. She nearly burst out laughing.
    Amanda had always enjoyed making remarks concerning Hadleigh, always commented in a teasing manner about his pompous air, his stiff demeanor, and his total lack of a sense of humor. But never had she been so forward as to challenge him to his face.
    “Are you suggesting that there’s something in my