Page 8 of The Duke of Kisses
Anthony shrugged. “Who’s to say what will happen?” He consulted his watch. “We should go, even if it means missing the excitement.” His tone was regretful as he picked up his brandy and tossed the last of it down his throat.
“Idon’t have to go,” Ware said. “You’ve got St. Ives here to dance with Sarah.”
Anthony looked over at David. “Sarah’s my sister. Do you mind partnering her?”
Hell in a handbasket. His dancing skills left much to be desired. He simply couldn’t remember all the damn steps. “I don’t mind, but I should warn you that I’m not very good.”
Anthony grinned. “Brilliant. She isn’t either. Though she’s a far sight better than her friend.” Anthony’s shoulders twitched with a shudder. “I should have worn extra stockings to protect my feet. Or, better yet, my riding boots.” He looked toward Ware. “I demand a thorough and animated description of Hornsby’s challenge.”
Ware’s answering stare was tinged with cynicism. “Would I give you anything else?”
The answering bark of laughter from Anthony made David smile. The camaraderie between the friends was rather contagious. “We’ll see you back here later.” He glanced toward David. “At leastIwill. I suppose I shouldn’t speak for St. Ives.”
“I am yours to direct this evening.” David was glad to have made their acquaintance.
“Until later, then,” Anthony said, rising. “We can take my coach to the ball, if that meets with your approval?”
“Yes. I walked here.”
Both Anthony and Ware stared at him, their jaws slack. “Youwalkedhere.”
“My house isn’t far,” David said, feeling a bit defensive. He liked to walk.
Ware shook his head. “Most gentlemen don’t walk to their club, particularly in the evening.” He picked up his glass. “How else can you show off your vehicle and your horseflesh?”
Oh yes, London had different rules. David only hoped he could tolerate them.
A while later, he walked into the Anderton ball after having been introduced to the host and hostess by Anthony. As he’d said, Anderton—and his wife—was delighted to have David in attendance and apologized for not inviting him. Which was silly since he hadn’t even been in town.
The ballroom gleamed with a thousand candles reflected in the jewels adorning many of the women in attendance. Music drifted from the far corner, mingling with conversation and laughter. It was simultaneously alluring and revolting. It wasn’t that he didn’t like people. He just didn’t normally see thismany. And especially not when they’d all be interested in him.
“We needn’t stay long,” Anthony, who along the way had urged David to call him by his first name, said. “My sister and her friend Miss Snowden are expecting us.”
“And is there any chance you may court this Miss Snowden?” David asked as they made their way along the perimeter of the ballroom.
“I hadn’t thought of it, to be honest. I haven’t yet reached the stage where I wish to pursue a wife.” He winked at David. “Though, she is quite pretty and possessed of a charming wit. I could do far worse.”
“But your toes would suffer,” David said with a chuckle.
Anthony joined him in laughter. “They would.” He craned his neck toward the corner. “Ah, there they are.” He wove his way through the crowd with rapid intent.
Two young women stood apart, their heads bent together. David could plainly see one—clearly Anthony’s sister, with her dark hair and pert nose. The other was mostly turned away from him, but he registered her bright red-gold hair and the elegant sweep of her neck above a finely trimmed blue and ivory gown.
There was something about her…
As they neared, the young lady turned. David’s breath stalled in his chest. It washer. The housemaid.Frances.
But she clearly wasn’t a housemaid. Yet she was most definitely Frances—her eyes widened in clear recognition and stark surprise.
He didn’t much care that Anthony was supposed to dance with her or that his toes were about to become mincemeat. He bowed before her. “Good evening. May I have the next dance?”
* * *
Fanny’s heart threatened to beat a hole clean through her chest. David was here. Were stewards invited to balls? She didn’t think so. Oh, but he washere.
And he looked splendid in his black evening finery. His dark hair was a bit shorter than the last time she’d seen him, and there was something different about his eyes. They were still gray, of course, but they held a flint she hadn’t seen before. She might even have described his gaze as cool.
Realization struck her a moment later than it ought. He thought she was a housemaid, and clearly she wasn’t. He knew she’d lied.
