The duke regarded her in that amused way once again, and she wondered what on Earth about her interested him so much, or was he really that good an actor that he could pretend to flatter her and make it look genuine?
“Butter it is,” he said, swiping a knife through the block of butter on the dish that had been set out upon his arrival.
The scones were loaded up on a silver display that had three platforms. Below them were macarons and then fruit on the lowest platform. In truth, Elinor would have much rather plucked one of the peach slices and eaten that, but as her stepmother had pointed out, she could not refuse a duke.
He finished buttering her scone and handed it over. Then, peculiarly, he applied butter to his own scone.
“You seemed perplexed by my choice, Your Grace,” she commented, “yet you like the same?”
“I am a fan of jam, in all truth,” he told her. “But I am curious in your choice, so I wish to know the appeal.”
“I like jam, too,” Belinda interrupted. “For sweet things please me. Do they please you, too, Your Grace?”
Her words were heavy with intent, and the duke nodded, his gaze flicking back to Elinor. “They do.” He did not offer any further answer, but Elinor tried not to find meaning in his words.
Elinor wanted to tell him that, yes, they needed their pretense, but he would get her into trouble if Belinda did not get the attention she thought she deserved. Next to her stepsister, Joanna was shyly quiet, focusing on nibbling on an orange macaron.
Belinda huffed and snatched a scone up, lathering it with jam as if to make a point.
“Where is that darling cat of yours?” The duke looked around as if Newton would appear, but Elinor only chuckled.
“He is … shy around groups,” she answered, trying not to outright say he despised her stepfamily. “He mostly stays in my room, curled up beneath my bed.”
“Do you prefer cats or dogs, Your Grace?” Belinda asked. “I much prefer dogs myself. But only small ones. Mama bought me a Pomeranian when I was a little girl, and I loved her ever so much. She was so fluffy.”
Lucien’s eyes flicked to Elinor’s. “I have recently found myself fonder of cats. I do believe they are rather popular with dukes and children.”
Elinor paused, her teacup halfway to her mouth, and he gave her the slightest smile, just one for them.
“I am confused,” Joanna spoke up.
“Never mind,” Lucien chuckled, looking away from Elinor. “Lady Morland, this tea is lovely. Thank you.”
“Of course, Your Grace,” she preened, tilting her head demurely. “I cannot have a duke present in my house and not serve him the best.”
“Is it Chinese? I hear they are doing lots of imports. They say that is the best tea.”
“It is … not, no.” Elinor caught her stepmother’s frown before she forced a bright smile. “But I shall keep that in mind to have for next time. Youareintending on visiting again, yes? It seems Lady Belinda has plenty to speak with you about?—”
“I am sure I will visit again,” he cut her off. “Lady Belinda, what things do you wish to discuss?” He made it ever so formal, so businesslike, and Belinda’s mouth opened and closed, caught off-guard.
“I—” She clenched her hands together, laughing nervously. “Well, there is the matter remaining of me performing for you.”
“I believe we have concluded that matter.” His tone was politely gentle but firm, and Elinor bit back a laugh at the slight dismissal, so subtle it may have gone unnoticed. “Lady Elinor, what should we speak about? I have heard around the ton that you?—”
“Oh, Your Grace,” Lady Morland interrupted, wincing in her panic. “Do not listen greatly to what the ton says about my stepdaughter. They are quite wrong.”
“Really?” Lucien cocked his head. “Word traveling is that she is rather perceptive. Outspoken in brief moments, yes, but who of us is not when we are passionate? I am interested in getting to know your perceptive mind, Lady Elinor.” He switched his focus halfway through his words, and Elinor tried to keep her heated cheeks at bay.
He was most adept at this acting spiel; in comparison, she felt at a great loss.
“I …” She hesitated, finding her stepmother’s glare fixed on her. “I am nothing special, Your Grace. I assure you. As my stepmother said, the ton can be wrong.”
“And yet that is not what I am seeing.”
It was too much, a step too far beyond their subtle teasing, and Elinor did not know how to answer, nor how to endure Belinda’s heated stare still beating into the side of her face. She didn’t dare look over. Belinda could be hostile and unpredictable with her cruelty and accusations at the best of times when Elinor had done nothing to smite her. Now, the Duke of Fairmont was openly preferring her company to Belinda’s, and Elinor was enthused but knew she would be the one paying the price.
When this is all over,she thought,I am still stuck with them. I must tread carefully even as I keep to our deal.