“No, I don’t. In my opinion, Caitlin’s plan is brilliant. Organizing the women of the community to campaign for you is the surest way to gain the support of their husbands—which you badly need if you’re to beat Lovell and win the election.”

“Seems like a lot of trouble to me, dressing up for a tea party.”

“Most women enjoy dressing up and being involved in a worthy cause. Believe me, they like to feel useful and appreciated. Besides, a tea party allows them to escape from a drab life for a short while.”

Sloan gave her a penetrating look, wondering if she was looking to escape. “Is your life so drab then, duchess?”

Heather returned his intense gaze steadily. “I wasn’t speaking of my situation, but since you ask, I’ve attended enough tea parties to last me a lifetime.”

He wasn’t certain he could believe her, but he let it pass and picked up a round, flat cake. “What’s this?”

“A crumpet. Try one, why don’t you? Janna loves them with strawberry jam.”

Sloan raised an eyebrow but bit into it experimentally. “Ummm, it’s good, even with such a highfalutin name. Tastes a lot like pancakes.”

“I know.” Heather smiled wryly. “Simply because it has a fancy name is no reason to turn up your nose at it. Would you mind looking after Janna a moment while I go upstairs and change my gown?”

At her smile, Sloan felt his heart kick against his ribs. Letting his gaze sweep over her figure, he felt the pulse lower down as well, in the vicinity of his groin. How could she look so sexy in a prim, long-sleeved, high-necked afternoon dress? The duchess was garbed rather plainly in dark-blue gaberdine, so as not to outshine the other women, he suspected.

“You need any help getting undressed?” he murmured, a husky catch to his voice.

Her skin took on a faint color. “Thank you, no. I have dozens of dishes to wash, and then I must fix Janna’s supper.”

Sloan reached up to tuck a stray tendril behind her ear. “Too bad. I thought maybe we might have our own private tea party and I could see how strawberry jam tastes on you.”

Her color deepened to an appealing flush, but she shook her head and left the kitchen.

The scent of her lingered in the air when she was gone. Sloan munched on the crumpet thoughtfully, regretting his impulse. Heather’s hair had looked fine. It hadn’t needed smoothing back into place. He’d done it merely to have an excuse to touch her. And her smile … That lovely smile had damned near taken his breath away.