Thornhill’s bride was quite young and likely uncertain of her position in the duke’s life. After all, it was not uncommon among the ton for a man in Thornhill’s position to have several liaisons, but the girl’s tone set Lucinda’s teeth on edge. Instead of responding in a manner to ease Velvet Fowler’s mind, Lucinda’s pride raised its ugly head, and she said snidely, “Perhaps you should direct your question to His Grace.” The girl’s eyes widened in disbelief. “I am not accustomed to brooking disappointment, Mrs. Warren. Your own conscience, must tell you what I most desire to know.” Lucinda looked on with unaffected astonishment. “Indeed, you are mistaken, Your Grace. I cannot account as to why you assume something amiss.” She knew better, but it was quite gratifying to have such a beautiful woman think her a threat. Deliciously, she insinuated, “Does your question rest in something His Grace has done to bring you anguish or in your own insecurities regarding your husband’s love for you?”
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