Page 73 of A Deal with the Earl (Necessary Arrangements 1)

“Yes, I know. You all worry too much,” she said with a nonchalant wave. “But I’ve discussed it with my grandpa, and if those people want to be in my graces, they must accept my friends. And if they do not, I don’t care to be accepted by them.”

“This is very kind of you, Lady Eabha.” Robert finally made his presence known. “But you need to marry well, and a tight association with us might hurt your chances.”

“I will marry for love,” Evie said, her eyes bright with youthful certainty. “And I won’t fall in love with a person who judges people without getting to know them. Now, please, leave us debutantes alone,” she waved her hand slightly in the door’s direction. “We need to prepare before our entry. And you need to be there when we make our grand entrance.” Evie looked at Mary and winked. Mary giggled back and hugged her tightly.

“Your dress is pretty,” Mary whispered, took a chiffon cloth in her hand, and rubbed it lightly between her fingers.

“You have an excellent taste, Merr,” Evie was saying as Julie and Robert backed away from the room.

As soon as they were out in the hall, Julie clutched Robert’s arm. “Do you think we are doing the right thing by leaving them alone?” she said worriedly.

Robert placed his hand over Julies where it rested on his arm and looked down at her. “Lady Eabha definitely has a strong Montgomery blood in her veins. I don’t think she would take no for an answer. Besides, she might be right. Nobody would dare to cut the Duke of Somerset’s granddaughter. So perhaps, Mary is in better hands with her than with us.”

“Will they dare cut the Duke of Rutland’s son?” Julie raised her brow at him.

“It’s different.” Robert looked ahead as they nearly came to the front of the receiving line. “Mary is now my family. She is not Somerset’s. Where I, by bringing my underaged simpleminded sister-in-law to a ball, am committing a faux pas, he, in turn, is graciously showing the ton how to react to my ill decision.” Julie mutely nodded her head as they came closer to the Duke of Somerset and exchanged pleasantries.

Several moments later, Gabriel, the Viscount St. Clare, appeared at Robert’s elbow.

“Where’s our debutante?” he asked after they were done with the greetings and pleasantries.

“They are waiting for an opportune moment to catch everyone off-guard,” Robert said quietly.

“They?”

“Yes, Somerset’s granddaughter is making a come-out and is dragging Mary with her.”

“Is she now?” Gabriel wrinkled a brow. “Daring little creature. Have I met her before?”

“Oh, you would remember her if you saw her,” Julie said with a smile.

Nobody forgot beautiful Evie after a single glance. Julie fanned herself lightly while studying Gabriel as he shrugged, looking nonplussed. He had gorgeous golden hair, his eyes were icy blue, his features symmetrical and chiseled, as if carved by a sculptor. She shifted her gaze toward her husband’s forbidden parts. They were like an angel and a demon, forces of light and darkness. Only for her, the force of darkness held more appeal. She remembered the first time she saw them both and how she thought Gabriel more superior in his physical appearance, almost overlooking Robert altogether. No, there was no ignoring him now.

Finally, the music trumpeted, and the butler announced the debutantes. The hush fell over the ballroom, and the roomful of people’s gazes were riveted to the top of the stairs.

Two figures slowly made their way down. Evie almost floated down the stairs, her skirts shifting as if she was not stepping down the stairs but moved on clouds, her back straight, her neck long, her lips smiling. Mary held on to her arm again, as different from Evie as night from day. She was clumsily making her way, looking down, and holding her skirts in her other hand. Evie smiled at everyone in the room, periodically smiling down at Mary with encouragement.

Julie was looking at the pair so intently that she forgot she was in the middle of the ballroom surrounded by 500 or so people. A low whistle brought her back to the ballroom floor.

“That is Somerset’s granddaughter?” she heard St. Clare’s low voice. “Exquisite.” Julie looked up at him and blinked.

Gabriel studied Evie with narrowed eyes, his gaze sweeping over her from head to toe, like a hunter studying his prey.

“Careful, St. Clare,” Robert said in a menacing voice. “The girl is Julie’s cousin. Which means she is under my protection as well as Somerset’s.”

“Oh, please, Robert.” Gabriel smiled his charming smile. “As if I need to hear threats from you to know who’s off my menu. Besides, innocents are not my forte. Unless they are not as innocent,” he added with a smirk.

Robert threw him a dark stare, but Gabriel just laughed and threw his hands up in mock defense. “Come, now, Robert. You know I would never ruin a girl you care for. Have some faith in me. And the girl. She doesn’t look like the kind who’d fall for my charms anyhow,” he said with a shrug.

“She’s not,” Julie said with a proud smile. “Robert, let’s go greet them; they’re almost down,” with those words, she tugged him toward the foot of the stairs.

Several moments later, the ball started in full force. The musicians struck the dancing tunes, and couples moved on to the dancefloor. Gabriel claimed Mary’s first dance while an army of suitors instantly moved over to surround Evie. Robert was right. Nobody dared cut the granddaughter of a mighty duke. Not even making a come-out with an idiot could mar the night for Evie. She smiled at everyone politely while regarding them from beneath her lashes, fanning herself lightly. Julie smiled to herself. Evie would be a force to be reckoned with.

As for Mary, after the dance with Gabriel, Robert signed his name on her dance card for the second waltz. Julie suspected he did it on purpose. Just so that her card didn’t remain empty. Having performed his duty by his friend for the night, Gabriel moved on to his own more pleasurable pursuits. Whatever they were.

Mary, Robert, and Julie joined by the dowager duchess, were standing on the sidelines, a tiny little island everyone took care to avoid. Nobody gave them cut direct so far; they were cordially avoided instead.

“Clydesdale.”

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