Page 33 of The Earl’s Hoyden

It was a quadrille this time, though Lucien would have much preferred for it to be the waltz again. In this dance, they would be separated often, sharing each other with the couple they danced across from.

Their conversation continued in snatches and quick, one-word replies as they danced from one partner to another before finally ending up together once more. Yet somehow, it wasn’t maddening but enjoyable. Each separation made him all the more eager for her return to hear what she truly did think of the puffed sleeves that were newly into fashion and exactly how large might be too large.

When the dance finally ended, his cheeks ached from smiling.

“You’ve nothing to fear, Lord Brightstone,” she said, her face aglow. “Your conversation leaves nothing wanting, I assure you. Remember, when all else fails, ask questions that will keep them talking. It will always prevent moments of silence from stretching out too long.”

He nodded at the final piece of advice and delivered her to her friends. However, as he made good on his promise to dance with Lady Alison, he dreaded the prospect of having to engage in banter with another lady.

If only Miss Bexley could be his dance partner for the whole of the evening.

And if only she truly did wish to wed.

7

Perhaps it was the shrimp.

Hannah’s stomach clenched with unease. Her fingers gripped the lemonade cup hard enough to crack the delicate glass.

Lucy sidled up to her, then innocently looked about as her fingers moved in her reticule. “You appear to need this more than me,” she whispered and dumped the contents of her flask into Hannah’s lemonade.

Hannah shrugged and sipped the drink. There was a neat burn at the end that slid through her, loosening knots of tension as it went down.

Perhaps it was not the shrimp.

Lord Brightstone swept past on the dance floor with Lady Alison, whose girlish giggle followed them, echoing in Hannah’s brain. The unease in her stomach coiled tighter once more.

Perhaps it was him.

“Lady Jillian.” The Duke of Dudley joined their small group and bowed. “I should like you to do me the honor of a dance.”

Jillian turned easily to him, a smile plastered on her lips. “Can you imagine if the room was filled with water, and we were dancing beneath the surface instead? Our ribbons curling up to the surface like resplendent seaweed, our hair shimmering about us like mermaids.”

“But we are not underwater,” the Duke of Dudley replied dryly.

“Well, that isn’t nearly as fun,” Jillian sighed.

The duke held out his hand to her as she hesitated for the blink of a second before accepting the unwelcome offer. He took her hand, and together they sailed off toward the dance floor and a fate she’d never wanted.

“Do excuse me,” Elizabeth said. “My mother wishes to speak with me. I’ll return in a moment.”

She drifted away, leaving Lucy and Hannah alone, as Amy had been taken to the dance floor earlier by Lord Ranford.

“He’s becoming quite popular, your Lord Brightstone.” Lucy watched the dance floor, her hazel eyes locked on the earl as he swirled Lady Alison around the room. Again.

Of all the women in attendance, Lady Alison was hardly the one she expected Lord Brightstone to dance with a second time. No doubt the other woman bullied her way into that extra dance. It was, after all, her way.

“He isn’t my Lord Brightstone,” Hannah hissed.

From across the room, Lady Brightstone glared at her in a manner that was entirely unwelcoming. A chill squeezed Hannah’s spine.

“It’s as though he suddenly knows exactly what to wear and say,” Lucy continued. “Do you think that is somewhat strange?”

“Hmm?” Hannah turned to her friend. “How so?”

“It’s almost as if someone has been instructing him on fashion,” Lucy mused.

Hannah took an unladylike gulp of the spiked lemonade, then fought to squelch the cough as the powerful alcohol hit the back of her throat like fire. “I don’t even know what you mean,” she croaked.