Page 136 of Once an Angel
Emily tried to wiggle free. "I don't think so. I'm afraid my card is full."
"How can it be full? You just got here. Don't move an inch and I'll go fetch him."
As soon as Cecille trotted out of sight, Emily ducked into a safe corner and began to madly scribble fictional names on her dance card.
"I say, gel, haven't we met?"
She jerked her head around to find a bloodshot eye studying her through a cracked quizzing glass.
A silent sigh of dread escaped her.
"I fear you are mistaken, sir." She edged away from the portly fellow.
"I'd stake my life on it," he boomed out. "You look frightfully familiar." His lascivious gaze lowered to
the ruched silk of her bodice. "Perhaps we met at the earl's card party last week?"
"I think not." To her relief, Emily saw Justin approaching through the crowd. An impish smile transformed her face as she threw her arms around the gentleman's neck. "Why, Uncle George!" She beckoned to Justin and called out in a voice that carried through the entire room, "Look, Your Grace,
it's one of my father's oldest friends—my dear old uncle George! You remember him, don't you? He
used to so love to dandle me on his knee."
Justin may not have remembered, but Uncle George was beginning to. He went pale in her choke hold
as the Duke of Winthrop parted the crowd with deadly grace. Several people were beginning to stare.
"No, no, gel," he stammered. "I'm sorry. You've got it all wrong. I don't know anyone named George. My name is Harry. I mean Alfred."
"Surely you jest!" Emily cried as Justin stopped in front of them. "Why, the resemblance is uncanny." She grasped his fat cheeks, turning his face for Justin's perusal. "He's the very image of George, isn't
he, Your Grace?"
Only too aware of her adventures in the bordello, Justin stroked his chin. "Positively eerie. Are you sure you don't have a twin somewhere, my good man?"
"Yes. No. I don't know. Perhaps I do. My mum was never too clear on the matter. Now, if you'll
excuse me, I really must be going." Uncle George-Harry-Alfred awkwardly extracted himself from
Emily's embrace and fled toward the foyer, racing past the puzzled footman holding out his greatcoat
and cane.
Laughter bubbled from Emily's throat. The heat of Justin's gaze warmed her like a touch. Her heart
did a clumsy somersault.
"You look lovely," he said.
She inclined her head, suddenly shy. It was hard to equate this staid, elegant gentleman with the playful satyr who loved her until dawn each night. "So do you."
"Will you dance with me?" he asked, his eyes somber.
"What will they think?" For the first time in her life Emily feared the opinions of others. She had Justin's reputation to consider now.
"They'll think the rich, mad duke has finally found a woman daft enough to marry him."
Emily turned away from him, choking on emotion. Justin wanted her. Not just for a few hours of stolen pleasure in the night. For always. "But the scandal," she whispered. "You're my guardian. I've been
