Page 47 of The Duke of Kisses
Miss Stoke took her hand from his arm. “Lord St. Ives has decided not to pursue any sort of courtship.”
David worked to keep his jaw from dropping. She wanted to have this conversationhere?
Mrs. Stoke’s mouth tightened. “I’m certain he’ll change his mind. Talk to your mother, my lord. She’ll convince you of the rightness of the union—you and Arabella are perfect for one another. Did you know that swans are her favorite animal? She’s keen to learn all you have to teach her about fowl.” Mrs. Stoke forced another smile, but her eyes, a green-gray, were hard as stone.
There was no point in further debate with either woman. Instead, he bowed to them. “Have a pleasant evening.”
He turned, eager to quit the ballroom as quickly as possible. He saw Fanny again—near her sister this time, but didn’t dare go to her. There would be time to tell her that he wished to court her, that he couldn’t imagine a future without her.
Tomorrow.
On his way to the exit, a man fell into him, sending him off balance.
“You’ll meet me at dawn, Royston!” a second man called to the man who was just straightening himself.
Both gentlemen were young bucks—one dark and one fair. The dark-haired one had issued the challenge. David recalled Ware speaking of this the other night at the club.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Hornsby,” the fair-haired gentleman said. His collar was impossibly high and stiff, his cravat the most intricately tied David had ever seen. “There’s no need to risk your life over your sister’s foolish infatuation. It’s not my fault I don’t find her attractive.”
The ballroom fell almost completely silent as people gathered around the two men. A wide circle formed, and David hoped they wouldn’t come to blows. Other than the pushing that had apparently occurred when Royston had crashed into him.
Hornsby sneered as he advanced on the taller man. “You dare insult her? And in front of an audience?”
Royston clucked his tongue, his eyes narrowing. “I’m not the one who instigated this scene.”
“You started this when you were rude to my sister. You don’t give a lady false hope and then turn your back on her.”
David winced. He hadn’t given Miss Stoke false hope—not directly, but wasn’t he responsible just the same? Perhaps, but he was far more responsible when it came to Fanny and her disappointment. Which was why he would make it right.
Hornsby’s lip curled. “Name your second.”
“This isn’t worth dueling over,” Royston said.
“Your continued abuse is why the challenge is necessary. To say my sister isn’t worth a defense of her character is beyond the pale.”
Hornsby exhaled loudly. “I am not abusing your sister. You’re the one causing humiliation with your public display.”
Hornsby lunged forward, and a feminine voice called, “Stop!”
Without thinking, David clapped his hand around Hornsby’s arm and kept him from launching into Royston. Hornsby whipped his head around, scowling at David.
“Careful, there,” David said quietly. “Save it for the dueling field.”
Hornsby shook him off, and two other gentlemen moved forward. They were Anthony and Ware. Anthony moved close to David while Ware inserted himself between Royston and Hornsby.
“This is not the place to have this…discussion. Step outside to make your arrangements.” Ware spoke pleasantly, with an affable smile, as if he were inviting them to one of his entertainments.
Hornsby seemed to relax slightly while Royston sniffed.
“Outside?” Ware prodded.
Hornsby abruptly turned and marched from the ballroom. Ware inclined his head toward Anthony and David. Anthony nodded and started out after him.
David took their unspoken communication to mean they intended to ensure the two men didn’t come to blows outside either. He planned to provide assistance, but before he could follow Ware, who gestured for Royston to precede him, he felt a hand on his arm.
Turning his head, he was surprised to see his mother’s concerned face. Before he could assure her that he was fine, she pulled him to the side of the ballroom as conversation erupted around them.
Her dark brows pitched into a V, and she spoke in a low, furious tone. “What are you doing?”
