Read Online When the Duke Found Love by Isabella Bradford - Free Book Online

circumstances of finding her unattended in the park. But to learn that she was also the same girl whom Brecon had forbidden him to see—ah, perhaps that interest had grown tenfold.
    “Actors and Irish officers,” he said. “What better way to a dubious reputation?”
    “Indeed, sir,” Lady Enid said, with perhaps more relish than he’d expected. “It’s said that Lady Diana would be considered quite ruined by now if Lady Marchbourne weren’t her sister.”
    “Who’s that sorry-looking fellow in black dancing with her now?” Sheffield asked. The man was grim and awkward as he dragged her about the floor, not even bothering to attempt the proper steps. Lady Diana in turn was trying hard to make the best of the dance, and of him, but her misery was clear enough. Even from across the room he could see that her smile was too fixed, her eyes too bright, for real happiness. “He can’t possibly be an Irish officer.”
    “Oh, no, sir,” Lady Enid said promptly. “That’s Lord Crump, her betrothed, or at least he will be her betrothed any day now. It’s said that he’s the only unwed lord who’s stern enough to offer for her hand.”
    So this was the man she’d meant when she’d said she wasn’t free, there beneath the trees. In Sheffield’s estimation, Lord Crump had no business at all offering for Lady Diana’s hand, despite how stern he might be. Or rather, because of how stern he was. Sheffield couldn’t believe that Brecon had encouraged this foolishness. A spirited girl such as Lady Diana deserved to be amused and charmed, not broken like a recalcitrant nag.
    “It’s considered a most favorable match for them both, sir,” Lady Enid was saying. “She’s very beautiful and well-bred, and he’s likewise titled and wealthy and willing to overlook her indiscretions for the sake of heirs.”
    More overheard gossip and scandal: yet this time Sheffield heard the unmistakable wistfulness in Lady Enid’s voice, a wistfulness that drew him sharply back from his thoughts of Lady Diana.
    “Not so very different from our own situation, is it?” He patted her fingers on his arm, determined not to be a boor. “But ours will have the happier outcome, Lady Enid, I’m sure of that.”
    She only sighed, her gaze following Lady Diana.
    That would not do; there were few things more depressing than one woman mooning after the lot of another.
    “Gallia est omnis divisa in partes tres,” he said solemnly.
    She looked at him in confusion. “What are you saying?”
    “Gallia est omnis divisa in partes tres,” he repeated. “That’s Virgil, you know.”
    “‘All Gaul is divided into three parts,’” she translated. “It’s Julius Caesar, not Virgil.”
    “It’s also the complete sum of the Latin I can recall from school,” he said. “All the proof you require regarding me as a possible husband. You deserve a gentleman like Dr. Pullings, Lady Enid, one who will appreciate you for who you are. I swear to do my best to arrange it, too. You have my word.”
    “Audentis fortuna luvat,” she said softly. “That is Virgil.”
    He tipped his head quizzically to one side. “Meaning exactly what?”
    “‘Fortune favors the brave,’” she said. “Meaning that I thank you for everything, and that I hope you find your lady to love, too.”
    She smiled up at him, full of trust and gratitude, and she was smiling still when they rejoined her parents.
    “How joyful you two look!” Lady Lattimore exclaimed with a great measure of joy herself. “Your Grace, I have never seen my daughter more delighted.”
    “We were parsing Latin, Lady Lattimore,” Sheffield said, purposely bland. “I have never before met a lady-scholar like Lady Enid.”
    Beside him Lady Enid barely smothered her laughter, turning it into a mangled, choking cough.
    “I do not like the sound of that, Enid,” Lady Lattimore said, frowning with concern. “You are quite flushed. She never flushes, Your Grace. Never. Enid, here, let me