“Are you enjoying yourself?” the duke asked after a minute.

She gave him an incredulous look, then snorted. “Oh, yes, I couldn’t think of a more delightful way to spend an evening.”

He grimaced. “Like that, eh? So Lady Salter was correct.”

George shrugged. “She occasionally is.”

“Was that woman—La Threadgood—typical?”

“About average. The consensus seems to be that I have entrapped you into marriage. Some resent it; others are congratulating me on my ‘cleverness.’”

She directed an accusing look at him and seemed to expect him to say something.

“I see.” Hart could see she was angry, but there was nothing he could say to her that would mitigate the gossip. “I thought you didn’t care what society thinks.”

It was the wrong thing to say. She turned her head sharply. “Why would you think that?”

“In the conservatory that time—with Mrs. Threadgood and her friends—you said as much.”

“Oh, them—they only thought I was odd. I don’t care about that kind of thing. A lot of people think I’m odd.” She made a careless gesture. “I suppose I am.”

“Then how is this any different?”

“Because this time they’re calling me dishonest, saying I’ve been deceitful and devious and hypocritical and immoral. It’s insulting.”

He didn’t say anything, so she added, “Don’t you see? They’re accusing me of entrapping you, of catching myself a rich duke by devious means. Accusing me.”

“I see.”

She rolled her eyes.

He frowned. “But you know you haven’t done any of those things, so what does it matter?”

She eyed him with exasperation. “It must be so nice to exist on your rarefied mountaintop, looking down at the rest of the world from your superior position, untouched by what people say about you.”

“People talk about me all the time,” he said coolly. “I have learned to ignore it.”

She bared her teeth at him. “Well, I’m still learning. And I don’t really mind if people talk about true things about me—it’s the lies that make me angry.”

He could see that. She was in an invidious position—and his actions had put her there. So it was up to him to do something about it. “There is no point trying to argue against ill-natured gossip—the harder you oppose it, the more it will confirm in people’s minds that it must be true.”

She sighed. “I know. I just have to be patient and hope the gossips move on to some other scandal. But I hate waiting! I just want to hit people.”

His gray eyes glinted. “I would not advise it.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “I particularly feel like hitting people who stay unnaturally calm, especially people who got me into this horrid position in the first place.” She flexed a gloved hand and said reflectively, “I’ve never hit a duke before.”