The Trouble With Being a Duke (3 page)

In any event, she couldn’t possibly wear it to the Kingsborough Ball. Could she? She would be betraying her parents’ trust by doing so. It would certainly be the most daring thing she’d ever done. And yet . . . this would be her last chance for a fairy-tale experience. Closing her eyes, she made her decision. She would do it. Isabella would seize a moment for herself—one night of adventure that would have to last a lifetime. She only hoped that she wouldn’t one day look back on it with longing and regret.

Chapter 3

“L
ady Frompton! So good of you to join us this evening,” Anthony said, completing his salutation with an elegant bow. He straightened himself so he could shake hands with the gentleman at her side. “And Lord Frompton, there’s a cigar for you in the gaming room.”

“The card tables have been readied, Your Grace?” the old earl asked, his voice muffled as he leaned a little closer to Anthony.

“Indeed they have, my lord,” Anthony replied quietly.

Lord Frompton gave a nod of approval before taking his wife by the arm and leading her inside the ballroom, allowing Anthony to welcome his next guest. It was a tedious affair, not to mention a tiring one. Standing up like this while two hundred people paraded past him was
not
his idea of fun. His back ached and his feet were practically begging for him to remove his shoes. They looked good—all shiny and black—but Lord, did they hurt! He tried to ignore it as he greeted the Earl and Countess of Rockly and considered his mother, who stood beside him as regal as ever. She looked radiant in a stunning creation of burgundy silk and without the slightest hint of fatigue in either her posture or features.

Pulling himself together, Anthony smiled at the Rocklys’ five daughters, who were presently staring up at him as if their eyelids had been pulled to the back of their heads. It was flattering, of course, in a peculiar sort of way, though Anthony could have done with less snickering on their part. He smiled back at them, complimented the ribbons they’d chosen for their hair and had promised them each a dance by the time they followed their parents to the ballroom.

“It looks like a smashing success,” Casper Goodard, Anthony’s longtime friend, said as he came to stand across from Anthony after all the guests had arrived. There were so many that there was only room for the closest friends and family to stay at Kingsborough Hall. The rest would either journey home the same evening, depending on how far they had to travel, or remain at one of the other estates in the area as overnight guests.

“Mama definitely put a lot of time and effort into outdoing all the previous balls she’s ever hosted.”

“I take it this explains the carriage that’s shaped like a pumpkin?”

Anthony nodded and tried not to smile too much. When his mother had told him that she had selected the theme of
Cendrillon
for her ball, he’d thought it a novel idea. He never would have imagined that she would go so far as to have a special carriage designed for the occasion. The vehicle (which had thankfully
not
been fastened to any horses) offered a place for people to sit while a sketch artist drew their portraits. “Did you happen to see the glass slipper?” Anthony asked as he nodded toward the refreshment table, where a dainty shoe stood fashioned in ice.

Casper nodded. “She’s certainly invested herself in this affair, hasn’t she? It’s all rather practical, really, now that I think of it. Don’t young ladies adore fairy tales—all that romance with a prince and so forth?”

Anthony smiled. “Are you suggesting that we use this to our advantage?”

“You must admit that it’s a wonderful conversation starter.”

“Certainly, but I have already promised to dance with five young ladies this evening, so I’m really not in need of any more female company. You know that I cannot flee the ballroom, but I am doing whatever I can to avoid eye contact with any more eager mamas.”

Yes, he was hoping that making the acquaintance of some of the young ladies present might lead to an attachment, but that did not mean that he wished to exhaust himself by participating in each and every dance—especially when he wasn’t all that fond of dancing to begin with.

“If that is the case, then I really must suggest that you try a little harder. Lady Snowdon has just cut across the entire ballroom with her daughter in tow—the one with the limp, not the other one. She’s bearing down on us as we speak.”

“Lady Georgina?”

“The very one,” Casper confirmed.

Well in that case, there was nothing for it, Anthony decided. He would simply have to dance with one more lady, because there was no bloody way that he was going to turn down Lady Georgina. The poor woman had suffered enough rejections thanks to her mother. Really, Lady Snowdon ought to know better than to subject her daughter to the constant scrutiny of others. From what he knew of Lady Georgina, she was a lovely person, but the world was a cruel place with too many people looking to mock those they deemed inferior.

Taking a deep breath, Anthony closed his eyes for a moment before turning around to face the ladies in question. They were approaching at quite an alarming speed—Lady Snowdon looking as though she would not hesitate to push aside anyone who happened to step in her way, while her daughter kept doing an awkward hop and slide in order to keep pace.

“Your Grace,” Lady Snowdon gasped as she came to a halt before him. “I hope you will forgive us for being late, but we were forced to have one of our carriage wheels changed just as we were ready to set out.”

“That’s quite all right, Lady Snowdon—I would have done the same had I found myself in your position. It’s always best to keep one’s safety in mind.”

“Oh, indeed it is.”

“I see that you brought Lady Georgina along with you this evening,” Anthony said as he offered Lady Snowdon’s daughter a smile. The young woman, who wasn’t all that young anymore (rapidly approaching her thirtieth year, if memory served), attempted a curtsy. Anthony bowed before adding, “And your husband, the earl? Is he here too?”

“Yes, yes, I believe he’s having a word with your dear mama,” Lady Snowdon replied. “Georgina and I were speaking to her as well, but then I spotted
you
and well . . . we simply had to come right over and thank you for inviting us here this evening—so kind of you.”

“Think nothing of it,” Anthony replied. He gestured toward Casper, who had otherwise kept completely silent during the exchange, no doubt in the hope of going unnoticed. Well, Anthony wasn’t about to allow that to happen and said, “Have you perhaps had the pleasure of making the acquaintance of my very good friend, Mr. Goodard?”

Lady Snowdon’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly, and then she turned her head in Casper’s direction until . . . “Oh, I say!”

Anthony was finding it damn near impossible to keep a straight face. Apparently the poor woman had been so focused on
him
that she’d failed to notice the man he was with—a man many a young miss had claimed to be the handsomest man they’d ever seen. It wasn’t something that had ever stood in the way of their friendship though. Anthony was certain that it had always bothered Casper more than it had him, but with his blonde hair and blue eyes, Casper was the sort of man who invariably turned heads. In short, he could probably have had any woman he wished regardless of the fact that he lacked a title.

“Ladies,” Casper said as he reached for Lady Georgina’s hand first and placed a kiss upon her knuckles. He repeated the gesture with her mother, who immediately turned a bright shade of pink.

Hoping to bring them all back to level ground, Anthony made the suggestion that he knew Lady Snowdon would try and coax out of him. He hated groveling, though, and decided therefore to avoid her pleas on her daughter’s behalf altogether. “Lady Georgina. Would you do me the honor of dancing a quadrille with me?”

“Certainly, Your Grace,” Lady Georgina replied, looking terribly bashful as she dropped her gaze to the floor and shifted uneasily from side to side.

And then, much to Anthony’s surprise, Casper chimed in. “If you still have room on your dance card, Lady Georgina, I would also appreciate the opportunity to dance with you—a waltz, perhaps?”

Lady Georgina’s gaze snapped back up to stare at Casper in wonder while her mother let out a squeal of delight beside her and clapped her hands together for emphasis. “That is very kind of you, Mr. Goodard. Thank you.”

And then the two women took their leave—Lady Snowdon undoubtedly eager to prepare her daughter for the big moment ahead of her. Anthony turned to Casper. “Feeling charitable?”

Casper shrugged and took a sip of his champagne. “Not particularly. Actually, I’m not sure what came over me other than that I felt a need to stop her mother from making things worse for her.”

Anthony knew precisely what he meant, for he had felt the exact same way the few times he’d happened to find himself in Lady Snowdon’s presence. He was just about to make another comment to that effect when he caught a glimpse of a woman edging her way along the periphery of the room until she came to a halt beside a pillar on the far side of the dance floor. Her face was turned slightly away from him, so it was difficult to get a proper look at her with all the people that kept blocking his line of vision, yet something about her caught his interest—she looked stranded. It was most peculiar, really, because she appeared to be dressed elegantly enough, yet instinct told him she didn’t quite belong. It must have been in the way she carried herself—she simply didn’t possess the same degree of aloofness as the rest of the guests.

Like Lady Snowdon and her daughter, she must have arrived late, for he had not seen her in the receiving line—he would have remembered if he had. And then she turned her face toward him and smiled, a smile so full of inner purity and goodness that for a moment he forgot to breathe. “Casper,” he muttered, jutting his chin in the mystery woman’s direction. “Who is that?”

“Who?” Casper asked, straining his neck as he tried to find the person to whom Anthony was referring. “There are a lot of people present—you’ll have to be more specific.”

“The woman over there by the pillar, just to the left of the orchestra—the one in the yellow gown.”

Casper moved his head a bit and then his eyes suddenly widened. “I’ve no idea, Anthony, but if you don’t ask her to dance, then I will.” He frowned as he turned to face his friend. “Forget what I said—I’ll ask her to dance regardless of whether or not you do.”

Anthony was just about to protest when he felt someone pat him on the shoulder. “You’re looking sharp as always.” Turning his head, Anthony found Winston smiling back at him.

“A miracle, really,” Anthony remarked as he stopped a passing footman so Winston could take a glass of champagne. “I’ve never understood why jackets have to be so bloody snug. If I had it my way I’d have a looser one made, though I do believe my valet would have an apoplectic fit.”

“It’s not so bad,” Casper said. “One does get used to it, you know.”

Anthony found himself tugging at his cravat. “It’s restrictive, that’s what it is. I’ll wager that most gentlemen here are finding it a nuisance, but they’re too cowardly to do anything about it—keeping up appearances and all that. In fact, I think I’m going to take my jacket off. I’ll be the most comfortable man here and consequently the envy of one and all.”

“Don’t you dare!” came a soft female voice. Anthony groaned. It was Louise, who’d made her approach together with her husband. “You know how important this is to Mama—you will not cause a scandal by allowing the guests to see you in a state of undress.”

A state of undress?

“It’s just a jacket, Louise. I would still be wearing my shirt and cravat.” He turned to her husband. “What say you, Huntley?”

Glancing at his wife, whose firm expression suggested that she’d taken it upon herself to defend the laws of fashion come what may, Huntley replied, “I believe I must concur with her ladyship on this, Kingsborough.” He leaned a bit closer to Anthony and whispered, “One must pick one’s battles wisely.”

“I heard that!”

“Perhaps that was my intention,” Huntley said, eyeing his wife, whose countenance had turned to one of suspicion.

Anthony shook his head and turned to Winston. “Where’s Sarah? I haven’t seen her since the two of you arrived earlier in the day—she hasn’t taken ill, has she?”

“Oh no, not at all,” Winston replied. “She was detained by Lady Deerford at the refreshment table. With little desire to hear about her ladyship’s latest acquisition, I wasted no time in excusing myself, so here I am.”

“Latest acquisition?” Casper asked. “Is she perhaps a collector?”

“Surely you must have heard,” Anthony said, surprised that such a bit of information might have slipped by his friend.

Casper responded with a blank stare.

“It doesn’t look as though he has,” Winston murmured, sounding intrigued.

“That hardly seems possible,” said Louise as she turned to her husband. “How could he not have heard?”

Huntley shrugged.

“Heard what?” Casper hissed, looking all but ready to pummel the lot of them if that was what it would take to get the information out.

Anthony wondered how much longer he could keep a straight face. He and his siblings were notorious for irking Casper in precisely this fashion—a skill they’d perfected with many years of practice. “Very well,” he relented, taking pity on his friend. “Lady Deerford collects dolls.”

“Oh.”

Anthony frowned, not in the least bit satisfied with Casper’s response. Clearly he would have to elaborate. “I don’t believe you understand—Lady Deerford is reported to have over one thousand dolls. She doesn’t just collect them, Casper, she obsesses over them—buys expensive gifts for them and such. Frankly one has to wonder about her ladyship’s sanity, but then again, I do believe she suffered a terrible blow when her daughter went missing all those years ago.”