“Well, you shall have to put up with it for me, then. The reason I need you there is that she does not know how to dance. Last time, the girls arranged for her to dance with someone sensible, but she could only manage the basic dances. So I need you to dance with her once or twice when the more challenging dances come up. You are a good dancer, so you will help her feel comfortable, and then you will make sure that no unfortunate gentlemen try their hand at ruining her.”

“Will it not look a little peculiar if I, a gentleman, accompany her?”

“Not if Marianne comes with you as well. You will go as a trio. You will dance with Marianne when you don’t dance withFrances, and when you’re not dancing with either, you can indulge in the lemonade. Or better yet—” She smirked and got up.

The way she moved reminded him of a battleship navigating stormy seas.

She opened a drawer, walked back to him, and held out a small flask—small enough to fit into the inside pocket of his jacket. “This will help make the lemonade not quite so weak.” She winked at him. “Now, if you will excuse me, I am going to bed.”

James stayed behind, shaking his head as his godmother left.

The years had changed her. She was far more strong-minded and meddlesome than she had ever been, and he had to admit he found that somewhat alarming.

Because he knew that once his godmother set her mind to something, she wouldn’t let it go. And he was nowhere near convinced that she had abandoned the idea of making a match out of him and Frances.