Free Leslie Lafoy by The Dukes Proposal Page B

slightest hint of something about to go terribly wrong.
    She sighed, took another sip, and wondered if she might simply be hungry. Or perhaps coming down with a bit of a cold. Not that either possibility was any more than a hope, she had to admit. God, she hated times like these, times when she could sense something coming, but couldn’t say what it was or who it would happen to, couldn’t prevent it.
    The movement was at the very edge of her vision, quick and fluid and instantly familiar. Simone, she silently groaned. Lord, if ever there was a person who could create disaster out of nothing more than thin air, it was Simone.
    “What are you doing out here?” her sister asked, closing the distance between them.
    “Wishing I were at home, tending my animals or reading a good book.”
    “Trust me,” Simone countered, laughing softly, “I know the feeling. Well,” she hurriedly added, “the being at home part, anyway.”
    Fiona nodded, leaned down to plant her elbows on the balustrade, and gazed out over the shadowed garden again. “Why do we do these things to ourselves?” she mused aloud. “It’s not as though our presence matters to anyone. Our absence, either.”
    Simone leaned her hip against the granite railing and replied, “Caroline just told me that Dunsford has asked to marry you and that you’ve accepted.”
    Leave it to Simone to get directly to the heart of any matter. Fiona nodded slowly. “You sound as though you don’t believe it.”
    “I am surprised.”
    And not at all happily. The spark of irritation was just as instant as the words that tumbled off Fiona’s tongue. “By which part? That someone would want to marry me? Or that I would accept a proposal?”
    For a long moment the words hung between them in the night air, at obvious odds with the perfect notes drifting out from the ballroom. In the discordant clash, Fiona’s irritation ebbed away, to be replaced by regret. She sighed and said, “I’m sor—”
    “What I can’t believe,” Simone said, gently cutting her off, “is that you’re willing to shackle yourself to a complete stranger. I’m assuming that there’s one helluva reason for doing something so drastic.”
    “One woman’s notion of drastic,” Fiona countered, “is another woman’s notion of reasonable. Lady St. Regis and Lady Phillips saw me leaving Lord Dunsford’s home this morning and didn’t waste a single second in getting to the house to tell Carrie all about it. Dunsford arrived about five minutes after they’d left, having done what they could to make a completely innocent situation just as scandalous as they possibly could.”
    “So?” Simone posed with a dismissive shrug. “It’s not as if we’ve never been gossiped about or scandalized. Carrie and Drayton didn’t twist your arm behind your back and make you say yes.”
    “Of course they didn’t. But then, you and Carrie are made of sterner stuff than I am.”
    Simone snorted. “What a load of rubbish!”
    It was the truth, but Fiona refused to waste the time and energy in arguing with her sister about it. “Weathering a scandal, however minor, is exhausting and painful and I refuse to be responsible for causing anyone grief. Dunsford offered to spare us all from the gossip. I certainly can’t be any less considerate than he’s being.”
    Simone sighed and, after a long moment, asked, “Were you at Dunsford’s all night? Or did you just pop over at dawn to see if you could sell him some raffle tickets to the Orphan Canine Mission?”
    “Half the night,” Fiona explained, ignoring Simone’s sarcasm. “While we were at the ball last night, Beeps got out of the house. Somehow he broke his leg and when I finally found him, I knew that if I didn’t get him to a doctor, he was going to die. So I took him to the Duke of Dunsford for surgery.”
    “And?” Simone asked breathlessly.
    “His Grace is a highly skilled surgeon and he honestly did the best he could. Beep’s leg couldn’t