Free Falling Into Bed with a Duke (Hellions of Havisham) by Lorraine Heath Page B

know why their return is given such fanfare.”
    “They went on safari. I think everyone wants to hear about it.”
    “Are you going then?”
    “I was thinking of it, yes.” Especially as Ashebury was certain to be there. She knew it was silly to take an interest in him, to place herself in his path so soon after last night, but he intrigued her. Besides, it was unlikely he’d approach her, that he would realize she was Lady V, but she would still have the opportunity to gaze on him—and to imagine what might have been between them.
    “Shall we go together?” Grace asked. “Lovingdon and I could pick you up at half past seven.”
    “That would be lovely.”
    “Jolly good. I’ll see you tonight then.” Standing, Grace leaned in and kissed Minerva’s cheek. “I’m glad nothing untoward happened last night.”
    “As am I,” she lied.

 
    Chapter 5
    T HE Countess of Greyling’s drawing room was packed to the gills with ladies sitting on sofas and chairs while gentlemen stood about wherever they could find a few spare inches of space. Minerva and Grace had managed to secure tight spots near the center of the room, sharing a sofa with Ladies Sarah and Honoria.
    Leaning against the wall, near the fireplace, the Duke of Ashebury radiated confidence and openly flirted with the ladies nearest to him, while gifting others with a secretive look that made each think she had his unfettered devotion. Not that he directed any of his heavy-lidded gazes Minerva’s way. Fighting not to let his inattention sting her pride, she was incredibly grateful that she hadn’t allowed him to bed her. It would have hurt immeasurably to see him showering others with his attentiveness while she received not an ounce of interest from him—even though her purpose in going to the Nightingale had been to ensure her anonymity. She could hardly bemoan his not dashing over to greet her when his not even batting an eye at her arrival was reassurance that he didn’t recognize her from the night before.
    All the trouble she’d gone to in order to hide her identity had worked. Her success should be met with pleasure rather than disappointment.
    Standing in front of the fireplace, Mr. Edward Alcott, for the better part of the last half hour, had been regaling his audience with tales of their adventures in Africa. He was animated, constantly using his hands to add excitement to the various accounts of their exploits.
    Minerva had been so caught up observing Ashebury, hoping in vain that he might at least give her a passing glance, that she’d barely listened to Mr. Alcott, but Lady Honoria’s pressing a hand to her throat with a startled gasp had Minerva redirecting her attention to their orator.
    “So there we were on the African savanna standing around for the better part of half an hour while Ashe set up his photography equipment,” Mr. Alcott continued in a mesmerizing cadence that had the ladies sharing the sofa with Minerva scooting to the edge of their seats.
    “When all of sudden”—Mr. Alcott took a quick step forward and swept his arms in a dramatic gesture—“out of the blue, the lion pounced.”
    Ladies inhaled sharply, jerking back as though that very creature had leaped from his fingertips. Gloved hands covered mouths. Eyes widened. Minerva took some satisfaction in not visibly reacting—she had little tolerance for women pretending they were far too delicate for the realities of life—although her heart was hammering madly.
    “It was an incredibly spectacular sight. Muscles bunching, sinew stretching, a roar that echoed—”
    “For God’s sake, Edward, get on with it,” Ashebury said from his far-too-relaxed stance, arms crossed over his chest. With gaslights rather than flickering candles illuminating the room, his black hair, unfashionably long, served to make the blue of his eyes that much more noticeable. He appeared bored. She wished she’d had a clearer view of him last night when he’d seemed more