Page 18 of The Duke's Goddess

“Are you going to tell us, Joan? Or do we have to drag it out of you? What’s on your mind?”

Dragging usually didn’t sound pleasant, but if they pulled bits and pieces out of her, that might help her process what she was actually thinking. And she wanted to talk to her sisters about James—even though she didn’t—so she asked the next best thing.

“Have you seen Sally tonight?”

“Yes, I saw her earlier. So you’re not going to tell us about your dance with James the other night?”

“No.” Joan answered dismissively. “Where did you see her?”

“Fine.” Mimi released her crossed arms. “We should seek Sally out then and find out what’s going on with Jacob,” Mimi said it as if it were a suggestion, but the sisters knew it was as good as a command.

“If we all go, that might be a bit overwhelming. We don’t want to bombard the poor girl. I’ll go find out what’s happening, and then I’ll report back to you.”

Mimi gave her a dubious look, and then must have decided that that course of action seemed logical. “Fine,” she agreed.

Joan started walking in the crowded ballroom. She kept returning one hand to her right pocket for more reason than just habit. But it did help to avoid being bumped, even marginally. With the people around her, she was itching for activity other than a society event though. She didn’t mind the balls, actually enjoyed dancing (enough), but she preferred a more invigorating pastime. She would get to it when she had time. She could already envision the target.

For now, Joan's search for Sally was on though.

Which was good. Because if she found Sally, she would probably find Jacob sooner rather than later. And if she found Jacob, well, James might be there, too. If he was, he was. And if he wasn’t, that was fine too. It was a tad distracting that she should keep thinking of his large frame and his firm, but graceful movements on the dance floor. That dance. She sighed. It had been…nice.

She shook her head, refocusing on her mission. Sally and Jacob. Specifically, Sally.

Ah…There she is.

Joan grabbed a couple of drinks from a passing tray as she walked over to her friend. Handing one to Sally, she greeted her with a smile.

“You’re so lucky,” Sally sighed.

Joan tried to hide her surprise. “Oh? Why do you say that?”

“You’ve been spending so much time with him.” Him. Joan knew whohimwas. He was thehimshe was not hoping to see tonight. Just open to the idea of seeing him.

“I wouldn’t say so much time.” It was only a lemonade and a waltz.

“You danced with him, did you not?” Sally’s eyes had turned dreamy, and Joan had an inkling that the scheming to get Sally and Jacob together may need to be taken up a level, but how?

“I did dance with him.”

“Was it more than you could have ever imagined?”

Well, it was certainly more than Joan had ever imagined. But that was because she had never imagined it before. However, since that dance, she had imagined it again. On occasion. And she had been prone to wonder if a second round of dancing would surpass all the imagining she had done since not imagining him.

“It was…nice,” she said flatly, giving voice to her own assessment of the event and hoping to deter Sally from asking more questions.

Her glassy-eyed friend only exhaled again. “Oh, to be held in the arms of a man desired by so many.”

Joan did not want to dissect that statement, so she asked about a (hopefully) safer topic. “Did Jacob pay you a visit after your dance?” It was only normal for a gentleman to pay a call or send flowers to the ladies he danced with. Joan was hanging onto hope that Jacob’s gentlemanly honor trumped his timidity.

The question seemed to shake Sally from her dreamstate. “Yes, he did.” A smile—true, a very small one, but it was a slightly curled lip all the same—formed on her face.

“That’s lovely. Did he bring you flowers?”

“Of course, he did.” Sally eyed Joan directly, as if to say she had just asked a ridiculous question.

“Not all men bring flowers, you know?”

“Don’t they?” Sally was paying attention now. She turned her body away from the dancers to fully face Joan.

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