A Season of Masks and Masquerades

Chapter 7: Preparing for the Romantic Lunch

"You called for me?" Lawrence spoke informally as he entered the Duke's room, only to find him rummaging through his wardrobe.

"Oh, I certainly did." He spoke walking out with a pair of day coats, an expression of confusion fogging his eyes above which his dark brown hair, now even darker due to the moisture, lay haphazardly on his forehead. A manly chest followed by some frozen hard abs on full display.

"Which one, do you reckon?"

Lawrence's eyebrows curled at the Duke demanding fashion advice from him. He was the rake duke, he knew about fashion better than any man. "The brown one I suppose?"

Edward scanned the brown coat with distaste. "What about the grey?"

Lawrence squinted his eyes in confusion. "It isn't even grey, it's almost black and, what exactly is going on?"

"I suppose you already know." Edward casually replied, all his attention devoted to the dark grey coat that he hung over himself, as he surveyed his frame in the huge mirror.

"No way! You're actually going to attend Miss Sherborne this afternoon?"

"Of course, I am." Edward made a nonchalant face as if he did not all by himself, list a hundred reasons why that very Miss Sherborne was the worst of all debutantes present in the town. "Clearly, I have no other alternative."

Lawrence walked up to Edward and stood between him and the mirror blocking his fashion display inauspiciously. "Pardon me Your Grace, but help me understand this. You are going to attend a luncheon with the woman you undoubtedly hate the most who also happens to be your uncelebrated betrothed, all because you do not have an alternative?"

"Precisely." Lawrence's eyebrows shot up at the carelessness in Edward's voice.

"Well, that is too sad." He spoke grimly as the Duke put on the coat. "Things could've been so very fortunately different if only you happened to be the Duke of Dales or something, but-"

"If it has escaped your foxy attention, my friend, the Duke of Dales also happens to be the brother to a very stubborn woman and it is next to impossible to try and refuse her commands," Edward added bitterly brushing his still wet hairs backwards, although they did not seem to obey.

"Ah, yes." Lawrence gave an exaggerated roll of his eyes offending the Duke.

"Not that I expect you to understand, as you do not have a siste-" Edward was only about to complete a very regrettable sentence when the doors to his room slammed open.

"He has a sister, and it is me, you senseless ass." Eleanor reprimanded in an authoritative voice only to make Edward chuckle cockily. "And why was a sister being discussed? Anything to do with me?" She asked looking at Lawrence, knowing very well that it was far easier to conjure an answer out of him than her brother by blood.

"His Grace was just telling me how woeful it is that you arranged for him a luncheon with Miss Sherborne. Pray tell Lady Richcomb, is this story of your severity true?" Lawrence shot cunningly as if already knowing the answer.

Eleanor's eyes scrunched and she gaped at her brother who seemed to not enjoy the conversation as much as his friend. "Well, the later part, of course, is true for I surely arranged it. However, I cannot be certain of how woeful it is, considering His Grace himself picked the lady for the afternoon."

Eleanor completed her statement loud and clear, ignoring and also overpowering the many irritatingly loud grunts Edward passed during her speech.

She shot him a smile of victory and he did not look pleased.

"He did, what?" Lawrence couldn't control his amazement. His eyes burned at the back of the handsome Duke who was now shuffling through his collection of hats.