“Amelia, darling,” an approaching woman cooed to Lady Chesterfield. “I have not yet had the pleasure of meeting your charming protégé.”
Introductions, dancing, more introductions, more dancing, chatting, warm and disgusting lemonade, it was a carbon copy of almost every night she’d had since moving into Lady Chesterfield’s home. It was hard not to think of all the books she’d read, all the movies she’d seen. This wasn’t elegant; this wasn’t magical. It was a damned bore. Where was the romance of the whole thing? It seemed to have gotten trampled beneath expen-sive kid slippers and the feet of aristocrats.
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Leah’s smile started slipping as she stood in a group of young people who were cheerfully gossiping about some countess she didn’t know. A longing glance at the clock revealed that it was approaching midnight. People were being nice enough to her, but she didn’t want to be there.
She wanted to be in an attic room, snuggled on a thin mattress with Avery’s strong arms around her.
“Miss Ram,” the high male voice intruded on her fantasy, and she jumped.
“I’m sorry,” she said, turning to Granville. “I was daydreaming.”
“Dare I hope that I took part in your dream?” His teasing smile wasn’t as hopeful as his words.
“Oh, you,” she said, smiling tightly and thwapping him in the arm with her fan. She should have smacked him harder. “I’m pretty sure we both know better than that.”
“Would you take a turn with me about the room?”
He held out his elbow to her. She gave a desperate glance to her conversation-mates, but there was clearly no help there. The two young gentlemen appeared completely in awe of the duke, and the ladies were all shooting daggers at Leah.
Just her luck.
“Yes,” she said, trying to make it enthusiastic. She slipped her hand in the crook of his elbow and the two of them moved toward the edge of the crowded ballroom.
“Quite a crush, is it not?”
“It is,” she agreed, opening her fan. The slight stirring of air across her throat helped, but it wasn’t enough. “It’s a very nice ball.”
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“I had hoped to dance with you earlier, but I was detained.”
“Oh?” She scanned the crowd for Lady Chesterfield.
A chaperone to run interference would make the conversation much easier.
“Yes,” he said, patting her finger gently. “As a member of the Fancy, I attend many of the tournaments.
There have been some exciting events of late, and our next bout promises to surpass them. Lord Charleston requested my assistance with a matter related to it, or I should have been here in time to claim my waltz.” He nodded to an acquaintance as they passed.
“Fancy?” she repeated, tilting her head toward him.
The name was completely unfamiliar, and she had to admit talking about anything other than waltzing was a great idea right then.
“The Fancy. Ah, I forget that you have lived abroad for so long.” He smiled down at her like she was an igno-rant child, which she guessed she was, to him. “Boxing tournaments, Miss Ram. But they are not a tale for such a proper young lady as yourself.”
“Oh, Miss Ram.” A young man with a rose-colored waistcoat came up to her with a smile. “I do beg your pardon, but I believe it is time for our dance.”
“Of course, Mr. Lowell.” She turned to the duke.
“Will you excuse me, Lord Granville?”
“Quite reluctantly,” he said, bowing over her hand.
“Perhaps afterward, I may again claim your attention?
There is a matter that I wish to discuss with you.”
Crap, crap, and triple crap. She took a deep breath and put on her most polite act. “Yes, to be sure.”
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worried the inside of her cheek. Her brain whirred like a wind-up robot toy. The duke and boxing matches.
Avery’s bruises and muscles that were much too nice for a valet to have…Could Granville have been forcing him to fight? That didn’t seem likely. Granville was too nice.
She curtsied to Mr. Lowell as he bowed, and they began the quadrille. Fortunately, she’d been practicing Regency dances since she’d first planned to marry Mr.
Darcy, so she only had to pay a minimum of attention to the steps.
Avery fought, and the duke was a member of the Fancy. What was she missing? Weren’t fights like that illegal? But there was something else, and she wished she knew what it was.
“You look quite fine tonight, Miss Ram.” Mr. Lowell nodded as he gripped her hand. They stepped together in a line with another couple, moving to the music.
“Thank you,” she said. Turning, they moved through the formation and took their place at the end of the line.