Page 92 of A Duke in the Rough

“Did you look at your dance card?” Honoria asked, worried that Anne might be disappointed if Burwood’s name wasn’t listed.

“No.” Anne tilted her head, eyes narrowing? “Why?” Then, ever so slowly, she opened the card and peered down at it. Immediately, her head jerked up. “What’s going on?”

As if answering Anne’s question, Burwood drew the room to order. “Lords, ladies, and gentlemen, may I have your attention.”

Chatter reduced to a hushed murmur as everyone turned toward the duke.

Honoria muttered to Miranda. “I hope he knows what he’s doing.”

Drake shook his head.“I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“Don’t worry,” Simon whispered, then raised his voice for the masses. “As most of you have already noticed—at least the ladies have—we have something new and exciting this evening. The ladies have all received dance cards already populated with the names of partners.”

Murmurs escalated to a dull roar as ladies who had not looked at their cards opened them and more than a few men groaned.

Burwood raised his hands to silence the protests. “Now, now, it’s all in good fun. I want no lady to be without a partner. So gentlemen, I would ask you to accept gallantly when your partner approaches you. Ladies, do not be shy. At the end of the evening, we’ll gather on the front lawn for a display of fireworks that will rival those of Vauxhall Gardens! Enjoy!”

Horrified expressions remained fixed on Simon, and standing next to him, Drake felt guilt by association. From the corner of his mouth, he muttered, “You’ve broken them. Do something.”

“Come now!” Simon said, sounding a little less enthusiastic. “Ladies, find your partners for the first dance.”

No one moved.

Simon’sideawas a disaster.

Then Honoria broke free from the small cluster of ladies and headed their way, her head high and her back straight and proud.

God love her.

Drake tugged gently on the ends of his coat, his heart pounding like cannon fire against his ribcage. Four sets. Was this to be their first?

He felt his lips curve involuntarily as she came closer.

Then they fell when she stopped in front of Simon.

“I believe we have the first set, Your Grace.” She held the card out as proof, as if the cad didn’t already know.

Simon feigned innocence, placing a hand over his heart, the lout. “Why, we do, don’t we? How delightful.” He held out his arm to Honoria while sending a particularly odious smirk toward Drake—who wanted to plant his friend a facer in front of the whole assembly.

As Simon and Honoria took their position on the dance floor, no one else moved.

“Mr. Merrick?” a feminine voice called from his right.

“Lady Montgomery?” He stared at the petite redhead. Where had she come from?

“I believe this set is ours.”

He glanced at the proffered card. “So it is. Shall we?” He held out his arm, and they joined Simon and Honoria.

“I apologize in advance,” Lady Montgomery said.

“What for?”

“For trodding on your feet. I’m not the most graceful of dancers, but I’ve improved over the years, especially if I refrain from looking at my husband.”

Drake tilted his head in question.

“He discombobulates me.”

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