How to Beguile a Duke (Entangled Scandalous)
Page 9
She wasn’t worried about the quadrille. That she could do in her sleep, but her experience with most of the others was limited to her instructor. Perhaps she would require refreshment whenever a waltz began. Oh, but what if no one asked her to dance? Surely Lady Hartley would introduce her to men who would ask her to dance, even if only to be polite.
“There you are,” Jane said. They had gone to the retiring room so Jane could repair a small flaw with her coiffure. “Are you ready to join the ball?”
“As ready as I’m ever going to be.” She drew in a deep breath and released it slowly.
Jane laughed. “You’ll be fine. In fact, in that gown, you’ll be the talk of the ball.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of. Not because of the gown, but because of my background. I want to blend in with the crowd, not stand out.” She ran her finger over the diamonds on her necklace. Perhaps she had overdone it. But since she wasn’t titled, she intended to show off her other attribute. Wealth.
Jane stepped in front of her and met her eyes. “Catherine, you will always stand out, no matter what you wear or whom you are with. It’s not your fault. It’s just who you are. You’ll see.” She waved her hand toward the door. “Come on, let’s go.”
Although still thinking it would be better to blend in, Catherine allowed Jane to tow her toward the ballroom.
Lady Hartley smiled as they approached her. She had gathered with the other mothers who were chaperoning their unmarried daughters and waiting for the dancing to begin. “I have decided that rather than seek out introductions, we shall remain here and let the gentlemen come to us. I am certain both of you will be in great demand.”
Catherine took another deep breath and forced herself to remain still. She spotted the Duke of Boulstridge across the ballroom escorting a lady who could only be his mother. He must have inherited his size from his father because the top of her head barely reached his shoulder, but the resemblance was unmistakable. Her bearing reminded Catherine a bit of her own mother, and a wave of longing for her family crashed against her heart. A letter announcing the birth of the baby should arrive at any time.
Now was not the time to rethink the timing of her trip to England. At twenty, she was already nearing the age where she would be considered on the shelf, and a delay would have caused her to miss the season. Coming by herself was the right decision, despite her loneliness.
The members of a string quartet paraded through the ballroom and began to set up in the opposite corner, and Lord Cavanaugh appeared almost immediately. “Lady Hartley, Lady Jane, Miss Malboeuf, how lovely to see you this evening.” He bowed to them. “Lady Jane, would you do me the honor of being my partner for the first dance?”
Jane’s joy shone in her eyes. “I would be honored, my lord.”
He led Jane to the middle of the room and others soon joined them in anticipation of the first dance.
As the musicians warmed up, Catherine struggled to maintain a smile and keep her shoulders from slumping. So far no one had come to seek an introduction. That meant her options for a dance partner were Lord Cavanaugh, who was already engaged for the first dance, and the Duke of Boulstridge, who, in light of their bet, was unlikely to dance with her at all.
Catherine took a discrete step toward Lady Hartley, hoping she would not be the only eligible lady of marriageable age who had not been asked to participate in the opening dance. The musicians were in position. She ran the pad of her thumb over the diamonds at her throat.
“Miss Malboeuf.” The duke approached from behind her. She whirled to face him. “Would you care to dance?”
His nearness left her breathless. She hadn’t expected him, of all people, to come to her rescue. Carefully schooling her features, she said, “I would be delighted, Your Grace.” Lady Hartley smiled her approval.
He took her hand, sending a shiver of awareness through her, and led her toward the other dancers. Though they stood several inches apart, linked only by their hands, heat emanated from him. He suddenly seemed much larger than she remembered.
“How are you enjoying your first London ball, Miss Malboeuf?” he asked.
“Very much, Your Grace.” The quadrille air of L’Horatia began and they moved all round to the right, then to the left. The duke flashed her a wry smile as he took his turn performing the balancez and turned Catherine around with both hands. His touch sent a jolt through her. Their eyes met as she completed the turn. Despite having executed the steps properly, she suddenly felt awkward.
As the next couple performed the same steps, she spoke to fill the silence. “Your Grace, I must admit I am confused as to your strategy.”
He raised one brow. “What strategy would that be, Miss Malboeuf?”
She shifted her eyes toward him. “Why, your strategy to win our wager, of course. Showing your favor by dancing with me does not seem in keeping with your plan of action.”
“Perhaps I am not as cunning as you think.”
She shook her head. “No, that’s not it.”
He laughed softly. “Despite your misgivings, I assure you that I will take no deliberate actions to defeat you. Your fate on the marriage mart is entirely in your hands.”
As she clasped the hands of the ladies on either side of her, she couldn’t help but ponder his statement. Though there was nothing objectionable about his words, she couldn’t help but think that they were driven by his arrogant assumption that she could never be accepted into society.
When their set ended, he asked, “Instead of returning directly to Lady Hartley, would you care to be introduced to my mother?”
She bit the inside of her cheek to keep her surprise from showing. “I would be delighted, Your Grace.”
Willing her hand not to tremble, she slid her arm through his and allowed him to lead her.
He scanned the ballroom. “Was it this crowded in here before?”
She bit back a smile. “I don’t believe so, Your Grace.”
He stopped to snatch two glasses of champagne from a passing footman and handed one to her. “We shall need fortification to make our way through this crush.”
She giggled. In spite of herself, she appreciated him more and more each time they were together. They ought to be enemies, but perhaps they could be amicable foes. After all, it wasn’t completely his fault he was so overbearing and priggish. His view of life was a natural result of his environment.
They spotted his mother at the same time, engaged in conversation with Lady Hartley.
“For heaven’s sake,” the duke said. Catherine repressed the urge to giggle again and followed him.
Lady Hartley held her arm out. “Catherine, let me introduce you to the Duchess of Boulstridge.” She turned to the duchess. “Your Grace, may I present Miss Catherine Malboeuf.”
The duchess held out her hand and spoke, cutting off the rest of Lady Hartley’s introduction. “My dear, how lovely to meet you. Lady Hartley has explained your connection to my son’s home.”
“I am pleased to meet you, Your Grace.” She curtsied. “I cannot pretend that I wasn’t disappointed to discover your son had purchased Walsley Manor. I had hoped to find the estate in disrepair so I could purchase it on behalf of my family.”
The duke shot her a wry smile. Catherine met his eyes, unable to resist a challenge.
The duchess studied each of them. “Perhaps you can convince him to sell it to you.”
Catherine crossed her arms and looked at the duke when she spoke. “I have already tried. He refused.”
The duchess patted his arm. “He did expend much time and energy on the restoration, so I understand his reluctance to part with it. It is a lovely property.”
“I have no doubt,” said Catherine, her gaze still focused on the duke. “I hope to have the chance to visit Walsley while I am in England.”
The duke stiffened and the duchess slid her arm through his. “My dear, perhaps you could help Miss Malboeuf find a similar property.”
“I appreciate your su
ggestion, Your Grace,” said Catherine, “but I’m afraid my mother has her heart set on the home she grew up in. I’m sure you understand.” Catherine’s smile slipped as the duchess pressed a hand to her stomach.
“I do understand. A home can retain the essence of strong emotions and memories, good or bad.”
A striking woman in blue silk approached their party. “Do pardon the interruption, Nicky, but I simply must have an introduction to this gorgeous creature in the green gown.”
Nicky? The duke smiled at the woman, the most genuine smile Catherine had ever witnessed from him. She clamped her jaw tight to prevent her mouth from dropping open.
Then he kissed her cheek. Good heavens.
“Dorothea, this is Miss Malboeuf. Miss Malboeuf, this is Countess Lieven, the wife of the Russian ambassador.” Her voice held no trace of an accent.
Catherine dropped into a curtsey. “I am honored to make your acquaintance.”
The countess ran her fingers over the skirt of Catherine’s gown. “Madame Rouillard created that magnificent gown, did she not?”
Catherine nodded and opened her mouth to speak, but the countess continued.
“She is the only milliner in London who is capable of such artistry. I should be angry with her for making such a gown for someone who is not me.”
The duke winked at Catherine, giving her the courage to respond. “My lady, I’m certain she meant no—”
“You are French, are you not? Of course she would make a special gown for you.”
“My father is French, but I am from New Orleans, my lady.”
The countess clapped her hands in delight. “Oh, how exciting. I am very interested in the New World. You must tell me everything about it.”
A tall, stately gentleman approached. “My lady, I believe you promised me the next dance.”
She placed her hand on his upper arm. “Oh dear, I have, haven’t I?” She turned to Catherine. “You will join us at the embassy for our annual ball. I shall send you an invitation tomorrow. You will need vouchers for the season as well.” The man Catherine assumed to be her husband steered her toward the dance floor.
Moments later, the duchess spotted an acquaintance and she and the duke took their leave.
“My goodness,” said Lady Hartley. “One can hardly get a word in around the countess, and yet, she’s so appealing no one minds.” She squeezed Catherine’s shoulders. “How lucky we are that she has already offered you vouchers for Almack’s. They are not easy to obtain.”
Jane joined them at the same time that a footman came around with a tray of lemonade. Catherine placed her empty champagne flute on the tray and grabbed a glass of lemonade with one hand, and Jane’s arm with the other. “Where have you been?”
“Dancing, of course.”
“I could have used your support. Countess Lieven introduced herself and offered me vouchers, and the Duke of Boulstridge danced with me, and…and, you weren’t here to help.”
Jane laughed. “You seem to have survived unscathed.”
Catherine took a gulp of lemonade and continued. “But aside from the countess, no one has asked for an introduction. My only dance partner has been the duke, and I believe he did it out of a misplaced sense of duty.”
Jane shook her head and smiled indulgently. “Sometimes the gentlemen need to be pushed to step up and meet someone new. You are quite spectacular in that dress, and I’m sure there is some speculation about you since you were favored by the duke. They are probably afraid to approach you.”
Catherine doubted that was the problem at all. Jane perused the ballroom and waved toward two gentlemen who were unlucky enough to have wandered into her view.
“Lord Amersham, Lord Romford,” she called.
Catherine wished for the ability to disappear as the two startled men approached.
“Have you met Miss Malboeuf? My parents are sponsoring her for the season.”
The introductions were made, but Catherine was too embarrassed to do more than murmur a polite response. Perhaps this was how people met one another in London, but she felt as if the entire ballroom was judging her and had found her lacking.
Lord Romford studied her as Jane chatted with Lord Amersham. “Miss Malboeuf, would you care to dance? Oh, do let me get rid of that for you.” He pulled the lemonade glass from her hand and placed it on the tray of a passing footman.
“Thank you, my lord.”
He took her hand and gestured toward the dancers lining up for the next set. “Shall we?”
She nodded. This was her first experience dancing with a complete stranger. Society in New Orleans was much smaller, so everyone tended to know one another. Each time the dance afforded them the opportunity to talk, she managed to keep up a steady stream of inane discussion about the weather and how she was enjoying London so far. She was relieved when the music finally stopped.
Lord Romford took her arm and led her toward the refreshment table. He handed her a glass of lemonade. “I hope I am not being too forward, but I must ask. Is your father really a pirate?”
Startled by his unexpected question, Catherine sucked in a breath of air and choked on the sip of lemonade she had just taken. She narrowly avoided spitting her mouthful of lemonade onto Romford. Her vehement coughs drew the attention of those around them, and Romford slapped her on the back with unnecessary force.
“Are you all right, Miss Malboeuf?” he asked.
Catherine forced a smile. “Yes, thank you, Lord Romford.”
“It was not my intention to startle you, but I have a distant ancestor who was executed as an accused pirate, so I am rather fascinated by them.”
The hair on Catherine’s neck stood, and she glanced over her shoulder to find Lady Grey listening intently to their conversation. She had no doubt that Lady Grey was capable of putting him up to asking about her father. She would have to ask Jane if a connection existed between them. Several other people appeared to be listening as well, no doubt due to her coughing fit. She chose her words carefully. “My father is the owner of a large shipping corporation. I traveled to England on one of his ships.” Jane motioned for Catherine to join her and she took the opportunity to escape before Romford could ask more questions.
“My apologies, my lord, but I am engaged for the next set.”
A man she had not yet been introduced to stood next to Lady Hartley. Tall, handsome, and impeccably dressed, he was the first promising prospect Jane had produced all night. Catherine made her way through the crowd and the introductions were made quickly.
“Miss Malboeuf, are you available for the next set?”
“Of course, my lord.” He was the Viscount of Tregony and, according to what Jane had told her when she was describing the eligible men of the ton the previous night, was desperate to marry an heiress to pay off the debts he inherited. Though she likely wasn’t the sort of heiress he was looking for, he might be her best option to win the wager with the duke.
He led her to the other dancers preparing for the set. “I understand you are from New Orleans. It must be very strange for you here in London.”
“It is not as foreign to me as you might think. My mother is English, so I grew up hearing stories of her home in Derbyshire.” Jane was nearby and she shot her a smile.
“I beg your pardon. I didn’t realize. I had heard you were French.”
She waved away his concern. “It is no matter. You had no way of knowing. My father is French, and of course New Orleans is predominantly French.”
The set began and they moved apart. When they came back together, she asked, “What part of England is your family from, my lord?”
As they spun to the right, he said, “We are from Cornwall.” They moved apart and came back together again. “I imagine you speak both French and English at your home, just as we speak a combination of English and Cornish.”
She smiled. “Indeed, we do. My younger brothers have a way of speaking by mixing both languages together in the same sentence.”
Catherine opened her mouth to explain that she also lived in the Bahamas, then decided against it. She liked Lord Tregony and didn’t want to scare him off by providing too much information about her background. “I believe it is helpful to learn another language, especially if you want to be privy to what your servants are saying about you.”
His lips curved into a charming smile. “That is an astute observation, Miss Malboeuf.”
The formation of the dance separated them once again. Though she wasn’t willing to marry someone who wanted her only for her money, it would be different if they formed an attachment and her wealth were simply the motivation. His precarious situation wasn’t of his own making, so she couldn’t fault him for attempting to remedy it through marriage, the means most readily available to him.
“Miss Malboeuf, it has been a pleasure.” He bowed over her hand at the end of the dance.
“The pleasure was all mine, my lord.” As she returned his smile, a rustling sound signaled the rapid approach of Jane. He excused himself when Jane reached her.
“Did you enjoy meeting Lord Tregony?”
Catherine nodded. “Very much so.”
She leaned in close. “I must warn you that he is in the market for a wealthy bride to save his ailing estate in Cornwall.”
“You already warned me, Jane.” A lock of hair that had loosened during the dancing tickled her cheek and she tucked it behind her ear. “He seemed a pleasant sort. His need for money doesn’t necessarily make him a bad match for me.”
“Of course not.” Jane looped her arm through Catherine’s. “A lady will forgive a man much if he is as pleasing to the eye as Lord Tregony.”
Catherine raised her brows. “Are you implying that I am only interested in him because of his looks?”
“Of course not. I’m certain you are interested in his title as well.”
“Oh, Jane.” She laughed.