Page 17 of Dancing with an Enigmatic Duke
Francesca clicked her tongue. “You must not let such things worry you. You will do your best, and you will have a good showing. Now, is your brother attending the ball with you?”
“Yes,” Emmeline said with a nod of her head. “He is going to chaperone me.”
Francesca smiled. “That is very good. Will you require my aid?”
“I think I shall be fine. You have helped me so much that I would not impose more on you. Besides, the invitation is only to me and my chaperone.”
Emmeline could tell from her face that Francesca already knew this. “It would not be proper for me to go, I just wanted to make sure that you were comfortable.”
“You are kind. I wish you could go, but that is just the way the rules are,” Emmeline smiled at her. “I think there is a picnic next month that allows us to bring servants. You could come to that.”
Francesca gave Emmeline a bright smile. “You are so sweet to worry after me. I shall be fine.”
“It is not as if the balls are that fun from what I hear.” Emmeline smiled. “I just hope that I actually find someone to dance with.”
“I am certain that your dance card will be very full.” Francesca offered her a hug. “Now, I am dreadfully tired, so I think I may try one of those English naps that you are so fond of.”
Emmeline laughed lightly. “Sleep well,” she called after the woman. Francesca lifted a graceful hand as she walked down the hallway. Emmeline sighed and propped her elbows on the table.
Cook came through. “Hello, Dorothea,” Emmeline said brightly.
The woman’s face lit up. “I thought I heard that French woman out here.”
“Oh, Francesca just left to have a nap.” Emmeline shrugged. “I was wondering if I could pester you for some tea. If you will just point where everything is, I can get it myself in the future.”
Dorothea shook her finger at Emmeline. “You’ll do no such thing in my kitchen. Ladies do not run around stirring pots. You’ll get grease on your new dresses!”
“This is a very old dress,” Emmeline pointed out.
Dorothea rolled her eyes. “You mind my words, Miss.”
“I will, I promise,” Emmeline said as she raised her hands in surrender.
Chapter 4
Harcourt’s mood seemed markedly improved upon receipt of the offer of courtship for his sister, perhaps a little too much improved for someone who claimed to have no interest in actually accepting the offer. Perhaps the man’s sister was not too far removed in her fears that Harcourt might just throw her to the first man who made an offer.
“I will be so glad to see this season come and go,” Harcourt said even as he smiled.
Nash narrowed his eyes. “What do you have to worry over?”
“Getting my sister a decent match.” They were sitting in the study smoking after the evening meal. “Will you be staying the night?”
Nash stretched out in the leather chair and sighed heavily. “I might,” he said at length. “It would mean at least one breakfast without mention of balls or dance cards.”
“Now, Mrs. Prichard always said you were a remarkable dancer when we were forced to take lessons at school.” Harcourt’s grin told Nash that his friend remembered quite vividly how much Nash had despised those lessons.
Nash grumbled, “As if she knew. She was deep in her cups most days.”
“Still, you never had a problem with the dances.” Harcourt drew a long puff off of his cigar, which he let out slowly.
Nash grunted. “Being able to dance does not equate to enjoying it, Harcourt. You should know that.”
“I like dancing fine. I never get to, mind you, but I like it well enough. You still adamant in holding out until next year to find a bride?”
If only things were that simply, Nash mused to himself. “What I want and what my mother wants do not line up and I have a feeling that, no matter what I want, she will get her way.”
“What is she going to do? Sneak in with a priest in the middle of the night and marry you off while you sleep?”
