Page 47 of A Duke for Diana (Designing Debutantes)

Chapter Nine

Why had she insisted on touching him, not once but twice? It made no sense. Men didn’t usually have such a profound effect on her. Only him . . . and his talk of undressed goddesses and the way he’d tried to make it better by starting over and the wit that surprised her every time. She knew no one like him.

That must be his appeal. He was different. A duke, but not really a duke. A gentleman, but not always a gentleman. How could she not want to touch him? His size alone made her feel safe from all the sneering nobles and their gossipy wives.

So she sought to put him from her mind . . . at least until she had time to ponder him further. For now, she had to make sure everyone followed the rules of precedence in seating, that Verity had remembered to arrange the little marzipan swans on the mirror to mimic them swimming on a pure mountain lake, and that someone had put an extra seat at the table for her. By some miracle, one of the ladies expected to be in attendance had bowed out due to an illness, so Diana could actually join the dinner without destroying the ratio of men to women.

Geoffrey didn’t look terribly happy to be seated between a widowed marchioness and the young daughter of a duke, but the rules of precedence had dictated that.

Dianahad dictated who was invited. Having heard that the aging marchioness’s eldest grandson was of an age to marry, Diana had hastened to add the widow. Meanwhile, the duke’s daughter had a favorite brother who was heir to her father. Short of marrying a duke or a marquess, Rosy could do no better than to marry the heir to one of those, and sadly, there weren’t many heirs to dukes and marquesses running around.

Still, Diana now regretted inviting the duke’s daughter, because the girl looked so adoringly at Geoffrey that Diana wished she could shove the chit’s face into her bowl of chilled Russian soup.

“Have you tried the duck?” her dinner companion to the right asked. “It’s better than I expected of a dinner thrown by a duke who is rumored to have no breeding whatsoever.”

A strangely fierce urge to defend Geoffrey seized her. “You do realize that in addition to his father’s prestigious line, His Grace is also descended from the Newcastle Stock-dons on his mother’s side? His breeding was forged at that old and very expensive school—Newcastle-upon-Tyne Academy. Her Majesty is considering sending one of her grandsons there.”

The fellow nodded as she spoke, as if she weren’t telling the most blatant lie of her life. She doubted he would ever know the truth anyway. And the ne’ er-do-well had sparked her temper, which was generally hard to do. He deserved to feel cut out of the general flow of gossip.

After a second such conversation with her dinner companion on the left, she was more than happy to see the dessert course arrive, a massive endeavor involving a sugar paste castle, marzipan swans on a mountain lake, and piles of nonpareil-covered chocolate drops for the snowy foothills surrounding the castle. On either end of the centerpiece were sugar paste bowls of marzipan fruit and assorted biscuits. From the way the other diners oohed and aahed, she wasn’t the only person impressed with Verity’s handiwork.

When the ladies withdrew to Mrs. Brookhouse’s boudoir to let the gentlemen have their port, Diana took the opportunity to pull Rosy aside. “How are you, my dear?” Diana asked. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

“Yes. But the guests are all so old.”

“They are, indeed. But because none of them were eligible gentlemen, did you find them easier to talk to?”

“Well . . . yes, but how am I to find a husband if I never meet eligible men?”

“You’ll meet them at your début ball in two weeks, which their parents, who are here now, will encourage them to attend after finding you to be the lovely eligible woman you are. And I’m sure the parents will invite you to any events they have in the interim, so you might even meet the gentlemen sooner. For tonight, I thought you might find it less taxing to converse with older people.”

Rosy’s eyes went wide. “Oh! It is much less taxing.”

“Now, the question is, will you wish to dance with the gentlemen who are here? Because it will be very good practice for when there are men who are more your age.”

“I’m always happy to dance as long as someone asks me.”

Diana patted her shoulder. “Trust me, being asked won’t be an issue. The couples here are all fine dancers who enjoy a lively reel or two.”

“What a coincidence. So do I!”

Rosy had said it in all earnestness. Diana could only nod and smile. The young lady wasn’t much like her brother, was she? He seized whatever he needed, and Rosy waited for someone to offer it to her. Perhaps it was a matter of differences between the sexes. Or perhaps it was the gap in their ages. At nineteen, Rosy wasn’t very worldly, but she would catch up eventually. Diana didn’t know Geoffrey’s precise age, but she would guess him to be in his late twenties.

“I never thought to ask,” Diana said, “but how old is your brother?” Diana regretted the question when Rosy got a speculative glint in her eyes.

“He’s thirty,” Rosy said. “And very eligible, I believe.”

Diana fought not to betray her interest in him. “Sadly, there are few eligible ladies here, but I will certainly make sure to invite some to your ball on his behalf.”

Then, before she could give away any of her true feelings, she went to the boudoir to make sure the women were comfortable. She sat a while, enjoying the chatter of the ladies, most of whom were kind and intelligent, which was why they were invited to Elegant Occasions’ affairs.

Before long, the sounds of music being played wafted to the boudoir. Lured by the lilting tune of “Monymusk,” the dinner guests rose and surged toward the formal drawing room. By the time Diana got there, nearly everyone had found a partner and joined the dance.

Except for Geoffrey. He stood near the door, drinking a glass of port and watching his guests twirl around the floor . . . particularly his sister.

She approached him. “Rosy is doing well, don’t you think? She definitely has more confidence than she showed a few weeks ago.”

“True. She dances nicely, too. But then, once she learned, she took to it readily.”

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