enormity of Granby made him difficult to ignore. It was shortly after her debut when Granby had first drawn her eye, at the opera of all places. But never had she encountered a gentleman who seemed to look down on so many of those around him as did the Duke of Granby. Romy had known several dukes she was the daughter of the Duke of Averell, after all. Large, booted feet encased in expensive leather had been stomping among the lesser mortals of Lady Masterson’s party all day while Granby stared everyone down with his patent frosty manner. Granby’s massive shoulders strained against the fabric of his clothes as if he spent his days chopping wood instead of doing ducal things. The height of Granby, nearly a head taller than all the other gentlemen surrounding him at any event, certainly drew the eye.

Grumpy Granby, as she’d christened the Duke of Granby, was difficult to overlook.

Still, Romy didn’t look away she stopped her sketch of Miss Cummings’s costume, all her attention taken by the large form in front of her. Just as Romy got the design stitched on Miss Cummings’s skirts correct in her sketch, her view was blocked by an enormous pair of shoulders garbed all in black. Pockets were something she insisted on, for they were useful for a variety of things. Pencil clutched in one hand, she pulled out the small notepad she always carried from the pocket cleverly hidden in the folds of her skirts. Madame Fontaine? Surely if it had been made by Madame Dupree, Romy would have known. The frothy gown of pale pink had been designed in such a way to resemble the careful opening of a flower. Lady Andromeda Barrington stepped discreetly behind a tree, determined to sketch the gorgeous concoction Miss Anne Cummings wore.

A Recipe for a Rogue by Kathleen Ayers