“Indeed.” The duke drummed his fingers on his forearm. “Miss Isabel is wearing blue, which I must say looks striking against her dark skin.” “Miss Isabel is quite striking all on her own,” Gideon murmured. “And Miss Luna could probably wear any color, although I do prefer this primrose color she’s wearing now.” “She’s not wearing primrose.” Gideon realized his mistake when Whitfield’s lip curved up. Damn it.
