Page 43 of To Ensnare a Duke

"Portswell, so very good to see you again." The baron makes his way into our circle, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

"And you, Lord Harhall. How are the shipping tariffs finding you?"

His smug face falls for a fraction of a second, far too swiftly to notice unless looking. "The votes have not been completely in my favor, but I have a feeling things will turn around." He lowers his voice as if imparting some grand secret. "They always do. But enough about business around these lovely ladies."

"Lord Harhall, I present to you, Miss Hunt, sister to Lord Hunt, Viscount of Hardon."

He drops into a bow over her offered hand, keeping his lips just out of reach… only just. My spine bristles as he makes an obvious overture, gazing into her eyes as he comes back up.

"If I may be so honored as to have a dance with so beautiful a lady."

His praise sends a flush up her face. Surely the chit can't be buying into his effusive words. No doubt he's said as such or more flowery to the last prospect.

"Forgive me, Lord Harhall," she begins, allowing the band to loosen just a touch. Seems she can do as she's told without the threat of violence. "It seems as if all I have is a quadrille. But if you would be so willing."

Before I can say a word, he picks up the card and scribbles his name, winking to me before standing upright. "I shall be delighted to claim my dance."

"Are you hard of hearing? Or just hard of listening?" I hiss, grabbing her elbow.

"Seems as if I'm in want of a more thorough explanation than just no. No matter. I will find out all while dancing with him. 'Twould be unseemly to break his heart."

"Most unseemly," I grumble as she yanks away and steps toward the girls.

They exchange giggles and peeks at the other's dance cards, not understanding the enormity of these interactions. It matters not. I shall ensure that he only dances with her as promised then they are separate for the remainder of the evening.

Grabbing a glass, I tip back the contents, allowing the burn to soothe my nerves. Not only do I have her aunt in attendance, but Norhaven and Redleigh as well will help me keep an eye on her. Thankfully, those they traveled with are not here with us, allowing them to navigate the room, watching out for anything suspicious.

My heart continues to pound as I pace the floor, watching her talk with one gentleman and the next. Off to the side, Lord Harhall watches her, his eyes trained on her every movement. Unfortunately, until he steps out of line, nothing can be said or done.

Besides, if we three were looking to get married, we would no doubt do the same. I just wish he'd put his attention onto some other girl and not the one I'm supposed to be watching after. These men don't know him like I do. They don't know how his tastes run similarly to mine.

On the surface, he's an upstanding pillar of his name. Back in the recesses of The Rose and Thorne, he's a completely different animal. Though I am not one to judge, I do know my desires at least run in parallel with the girl's wants and needs. His wants and needs are only about himself.

For Augusta to end up with someone like him is just unconscionable. Damn my honor. Damn my pride. Damn the fact that I find myself caring for this girl.

"Your Grace," Miss Campbell murmurs, her face trained to the floor. "You seem ill at ease. Is everything well with Miss Hunt?"

"It is kind of you to inquire, but she should be all right. It's merely my responsibility to do well by her in the absence of her brother that has me on guard."

"I see. Is there anything I should worry about for me? Or my friends even?"

I give her a gentle smile, not wishing to scare her away. "As long as you keep your wits about you, all will be well."

She gives a light giggle before looking out over onto the dance floor, her demeanor sobering as she watches Norhaven take to dance. "But then," she murmurs. "Is that not true of every soiree?"

"Indeed it is." A heavy sigh drifts from my lips as I lock eyes onto where Augusta is once more. "Indeed it is."

If only my stomach would stop churning. If only I could tell myself, it's just one more ball. If only…

But I can't. From the instant we stepped foot into this place, something deep inside has demanded we leave. But for the sake of honor, I have forced myself to stay.

CHAPTER 21

AUGUSTA

As I whirl about on some duke, earl, baron, or viscount's arm, my gaze never strays far from Portswell. He stands at the edge of the dance floor, simply glowering at me with each turn about the room I take. If the poor man is jealous, then he only has himself to blame.

Not once did he offer to dance with me or find a place on my card. No. He's more concerned with who I'm entertaining. Besides, we're in public. It's not as if I can do anything untoward here. Not with everyone watching.