Affinity had heard little about him before. He was the Duke of St. Martin and in hushed tones people spoke of him being rather reclusive and mysterious. She had caught the topic twice being speculated on in quiet tones by a few mothers noting his marriageable eligibility and his candid absence at all the seasons events. The aura of his mystic behavior livened her immediately, while at the same moment the title he carried of duke served to make her feel daunted. That was surprising to her and very irritating. What? Did she believe she was not worthy enough for an exalted duke? My-My the difficulties of this London season and the undesirable category that they had slotted her into had taken more of a toll on her than she had realized. It was probably her anger then that set her onto her next course of indescribably bold action. Affinity saw what looked to be a pantry maid leaving the duke’s well-maintained townhouse. The maid was very young and possibly on her way to the market for the cook, because she carried a basket.
