Free Redemption of the Duke by Gayle Callen Page B

pity for the woman whose husband had
     died.
    Lady Tunbridge nodded coldly and went back to looking out the window. The duke’s young
     sister was introduced last, and she rose to her feet to give Faith both her hands,
     as if they were equals in Society.
    “Miss Cooper, I am Lady Sophia. What a pleasure it is to meet you.”
    Faith couldn’t help giving the woman a warm smile. “It is the same for me, Lady Sophia.”
    “Now you must not feel neglected,” Lady Sophia said in a conspiratorial voice, her
     eyes twinkling at Lady Duncan. “My aunt Theodosia is quite proud of her independence.
     You might end up reading away your days, waiting for her to need your help.”
    Lady Duncan waved a hand, with a “Pshaw,” but she seemed pleased with the observation.
    “I’ll gladly keep her company if that’s all she wishes,” Faith insisted, “just in
     case she needs something of me.”
    “Quite obliging, aren’t you?” Lady Tunbridge said. “But then, you’re being paid for
     the position.”
    “Marian,” Lady Duncan said coldly. “Not everyone is as fortunate as you are.”
    “I, fortunate?” the woman shot back. “I am a widow whose husband died tragically.
     Where is my good fortune?”
    The duchess frowned and kept reading her book, even as Faith schooled her features
     to impassivity.
    “I believe you had many fine years with my nephew,” Lady Duncan said sternly, “and
     the result is a beautiful daughter. Will she be joining us for dinner?”
    “Of course not,” Lady Tunbridge said with exasperation. “She has many years left in
     the schoolroom. She ate in the day nursery with her governess. I will see her before
     she goes to bed.”
    Lady Duncan and Lady Sophia exchanged a glance that seemed to pity the little girl.
     But Lady Tunbridge had already turned back to the window and missed the exchange.
    And then with no fanfare or introduction, the Duke of Rothford stepped into the drawing
     room. Faith didn’t know where to look, so aware was she of their improper, private
     conversations, her anger at his highhandedness—and how very masculine he was in a
     room full of women. His light brown hair was rumpled, as if he’d run his hands through
     it. She couldn’t believe he was nervous upon facing her—no, he’d gotten what he wanted.
    And when his blue eyes alighted on her, she kept herself from flinching by sinking
     into another deep curtsy.
    Lady Tunbridge made a muffled sound very like a snort, then turned away again.
    “Adam, we have a new member of our household,” Lady Duncan said. “Shall I introduce
     you?”
    Faith knew the coincidence would be too great for the duke not to be involved, but
     perhaps Lady Duncan did not know they’d already met. Faith took the reins into her
     hands so he couldn’t make things worse than he already had. “The duke and I have briefly
     met, my lady. He once called upon Miss Warburton. I was her lady’s companion,” she
     explained to the others in the room. Not a lie, but not the whole truth either.
    “Adam,” Lady Duncan continued, “Miss Cooper is my new companion.”
    Rothford gave her a brief nod, his smile pleasant but distracted, as if politeness
     were necessary, but nothing else. As if he didn’t really need to notice her. Part
     of her was relieved—if he could carry this off, then maybe she wouldn’t have to leave
     with no position to go to—but part of her was offended.
    And why was she offended? She certainly didn’t want the duke to treat her as anything
     other than his aunt’s companion, a woman who meant nothing to him. She’d never wanted
     to be the symbol of his guilt he’d made her out to be.
    Or did she want him to notice her because he was an attractive man? And that was ridiculous.
     She’d seen many attractive men, and she was beyond their notice, a creature from the
     wallflower row along the ballroom. And he was a duke, for heaven’s sake, the highest
     aristocracy next to royalty. Now that his