She turned to face the Duke of Selburn. ‘Your Grace.’
Behind him, she saw Lord Carlston quicken his progress through the throng. It was all happening just as she had predicted — two snarling wolves — but it was too late to try to stop it.
She curtseyed to the Duke. ‘Allow me to introduce Miss Cransdon.’
Delia curtseyed. ‘Good evening, Your Grace.’
The Duke bowed and turned his attention back to Helen. ‘It is marvellous to see you again. You are radiant, as ever. Would you do me the honour of the next two dances?’
At that moment Lord Carlston stepped in beside the Duke; a little too close for courtesy, but the perfect distance for threat. ‘You are too late, Selburn. Lady Helen has promised these next to me.’
The Duke stood his ground. ‘Carlston. You look positively ill,’ he said with mock concern. ‘A reflection of the inner man perhaps? Are you sure you are up to dancing?’
Helen drew a sharp breath; the barb had more truth than Selburn realised.
Carlston gave an ironic bow. ‘Thank you for your solicitude, Duke, but I am quite well.’ He offered Helen his arm. ‘Shall we? I believe Lady Elizabeth is about to call the dance.’
Helen flushed at his proprietary manner, but took his arm. ‘Please excuse me,’ she said to Selburn. ‘I am already promised to Lord Carlston.’
The Duke regarded them for a moment, then turned to Delia. ‘Miss Cransdon, would you do me the honour of the next two dances?’
Delia’s eyes darted to his lordship. ‘I am … I mean …’
Helen saw a young officer hovering nearby; clearly Delia’s promised partner for the set and somewhat cowed by the Duke’s presence.
With a drowning glance at Helen, and a small helpless shrug to the lurking officer, Delia took the Duke’s proffered arm. ‘Thank you, Your Grace.’
What was Delia thinking? She was lucky the officer did not dare confront a man of Selburn’s rank.
‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ Pug called loudly. ‘Pray take your partners for the Perigordine.’
A murmur of surprise and delight surged through the company. The Perigordine was on the very edge of respectability, being French and slightly vulgar. Helen squeezed her eyes shut. Trust Pug to choose that particular dance. It was an old cutting in jig that gave the gentlemen leave to swap partners at will.
She opened her eyes to find the Duke leading Delia to the dance floor but staring back at her, his intention clear in his eyes: he was going to wrest her from Carlston at the first opportunity. The last thing she needed was to be in the middle of this fight.
‘I wish to sit down,’ she hissed at Carlston as they watched Pug and her partner take the position below the Duke and Delia to begin the dance. ‘I will not be the excuse that you and Selburn fight over.’
The first notes of the music started.
‘Too late, it has begun,’ his lordship whispered back.
She was caught now; one could not abandon the floor during a dance.
‘Why do you encourage him?’ Carlston added.
Helen glared at him. ‘I do not encourage him. Quite the opposite. He is determined to rescue me from your influence. It is you who are at the core of the problem.’
It seemed he was at the core of all her problems.
The Duke and Delia, as first-ranked couple, set the series of steps: a skipping chassé to the right, then to the left, a full turn to the right and once again to the left, and finally a small leap into the finishing jeté. All four danced the steps again, then the Duke abandoned Delia and took Pug’s hand, twirling her into the steps. It was time for the third-ranked couple to join: Helen and Carlston.
‘This should be interesting,’ he said, taking her gloved hand in his own and leading her into the middle of the dance floor. Through his grip, Helen felt the tension in his body; the kind of tension she fancied was reserved for pre-battle.
She skipped into the first chassé, her eyes on Selburn behind them. He had manoeuvred Pug across the floor in a travelling step so they danced in striking distance of Helen and Carlston. The second chassé brought Helen back to stand in front of Carlston.
‘It is customary to look at your partner, not another gentleman,’ he drawled as he took her offered right hand.
‘He is behind us,’ Helen said as they turned.
‘I am quite aware of his position.’
They turned again, then made the leap into the elegant final jeté.
Two more couples joined the dance as the Duke passed Pug on to another man and crossed to Helen.
‘Lady Helen?’ he asked, claiming her hand before she could answer.
‘You are nothing if not predictable, Selburn,’ Carlston said.
‘You are allowing Miss Cransdon to stand without a partner,’ the Duke replied as he led Helen into the first chassé. ‘Come, let us quit this area.’
Retaining his hold upon her hands, he swung her into three long travelling steps away from the Earl. They ended up on the other side of the dance floor. A young officer released his rather gawky partner and approached, ready to claim Helen.
‘Stand down, Lieutenant,’ Selburn said, his smile akin to a snarl.
Startled, the young man bowed and backed away.
‘That is not in the spirit of the dance, Duke,’ Helen said.
His smile relaxed into something more genuine. ‘True, but I have only just secured you.’
She had to smile back; there was such complimentary delight in his face. They turned the first circle hand in hand.
‘Your brother joins me on Monday,’ he said. ‘He wishes to call upon you as soon as he arrives in the evening. I believe he has a proposal to discuss with you — one to your advantage. Will you be at home?’
They clasped hands for the opposite turn. A proposal to her advantage? She doubted Andrew would have come up with a plan himself; he was not one for thinking beyond his own needs. No, she would wager the Duke had put some idea for her protection into her brother’s mind. She knew it was his regard speaking, but even so, the intrusion was unwelcome.
She composed her expression into polite regret. ‘I believe Lady Margaret has made plans to join the promenade on Monday evening.’ At least the excuse was true.
‘I see. Then Andrew and I will meet you there. I am sure he will enjoy a walk after such a long journey.’
Helen bit down on her chagrin. There was no escaping it. ‘That would be most agreeable.’
The Duke observed her narrowly as they completed the jeté. ‘And yet I sense that it is far from being agreeable.’ He took her hand again for the new figure. ‘Forgive me if I am trespassing upon family affairs, but you do not seem overjoyed by the prospect of your brother’s visit.’
‘I believe Andrew will wish me to leave Lady Margaret’s house, but I have accepted her kind hospitality for the summer. I will not be persuaded otherwise.’