Page 21 of My Cruel Duke

The ballroom was packed. Just the way the host, Lady Bloomberg, liked it.

The balls she hosted were what the Ton referred to as the opening ball of the Season, and as such, everyone was excited about it. Penny and her family included. It was her first Season as a married woman, and the smile on her face showed that much. Of course, there were eyes on her. She had to appear as happy as she could, for it showed the unity of her family.

People wondered where her father and brother were and what had happened to them; others were too busy praising her resilience and bravery and how she managed to marry the man who caused her family misfortune. Same old, same old.

Tonight was not about her, though; it was about Lydia, and she was overjoyed that most of the attention stayed on her.

Even though her attention was on her sister, she was scarcely aware of the body beside her. Her husband. He wore his usual scowl, but he was present. That was until he leaned toward her and muttered that he was going away for a smoke break. Penny had turned crimson at the feel of his hot breath against her skin and the fact that as he started moving, he turned to look at her as though to be sure she was all right before disappearing into the ocean of people. He truly learned some manners.

After he left, Penny and Aunt Augusta poured all their attention on Lydia, making sure her dance card was filled up, but that was only the start of the night.

At some point, Penny had seen her friends from a distance, and her heart broke a little at the prospect of going through a Season without them. Left to her, she would have loved to be with them, hiding in that dark corner and making fun of people who did anything less than be elegant, but her sister came first.

* * *

Rhysand had not gone to take a smoke break like he claimed he would; he had only needed a moment away from her alluring presence. He was not sure of what he would do if he had stood next to her longer than he did. In the dark corner he hid, Lydia approached him slowly as if waiting for him to reject her. When he did not, she proceeded and stopped beside him.

“Your Grace,” she curtsied. He narrowed his eyes at her.

“Why are you here, Miss Lydia?” He had not had any reason to speak to the younger Miss Hislop, but that did not mean he would run away from the opportunity.

“I could ask you the same, Your Grace.”

That insolent tongue ran in the family, it seemed.

“I am a married man; I can afford to stay in a corner. But you? Not so much.”

The younger lady smiled. “Mamas are parading their daughters to prospective suitors. Since I do not have a mama to parade me about, I have come to disturb your peace until the dancing starts.”

Rhysand looked at her for a short while and made up his mind. “Come with me,” he urged with a ghost of a smile, and the lady followed.

For years, Rhysand had not involved himself in balls. He attended them. At some point, it was to look for a bride, but he grew bored quickly. At other times, it was to make deals, which went successfully, but involving himself for the sake of another was not something he did. He did not know what about Lydia had pushed him. Perhaps it was because she reminded him of his sister, who did not have the chance to attend a ball for the purpose of finding a husband. Or maybe it was because of his agreement with Penelope. Whatever it was, it made him step out of his darkness and, for fifteen minutes, paraded Lydia about.

“Your Grace!” That was just the person Rhysand wanted to see. He had stylishly fished him out in the crowd, and he had appeared. Philip Keats.

“Ah! Angleton, a pleasure to see you.” Miss Lydia stilled beside him, and he smirked. “Let me introduce you to Miss Lydia. She is the sister of the duchess; you remember her, do you not?” If it was possible, Rhysand saw Philip’s eyes twinkle. It irked him.

“Good evening, my lord,” Lydia curtsied, and Philip returned it. It seemed as though the two continued from where they had stopped at Thornbury Hall.

“I would have requested a dance, but I see that Miss Lydia’s card is filled.”

Lydia burned. “I could perhaps sneak His Lordship in there somewhere…”

Philip smiled, and they agreed upon a number, after which he disappeared.

“Thank you, Your Grace.”

“Please, call me Rhysand, we are family.”

“Oh, I would not dare, Your Grace,” then she giggled.

“Did that amuse you?”

She shook her head.

“I had my doubts about you. Especially after what happened at dinner that night, but I see now that you are not as horrible as you pretend to be. If you just lower your walls a little bit, you will see we are not so horrible either.”

Christ. Philip and Lydia were a match made in heaven.

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