Page 27 of The Trouble with Tweed

“Oh, I forget nothing.” He offered his arm easily. “Now let’s take a turn about the ballroom and let everyone see how happy we are.”

Claire let out an exasperated breath. Impossible man. She didn’t like the feeling of being taken off guard. She wasn’t used to being the one rocked back upon her heels, emotionally speaking. Yet, even as he vexed her, he coaxed a smile from her at the same time. She didn’t know how he did it; it was as if he slipped humor in amongst her irritation.

Claire took Michael’s elbow. For the next hour, she allowed him to lead her around the periphery of the room. Michael had an abundance of friends and acquaintances; he was received warmly everywhere they went. Because Claire was on his elbow, she was offered much the same treatment. It was slightly bewildering that she’d had so much apprehension and fear before this evening, and now it seemed to be going so well.

“There,” he murmured in her ear once they had completed a full circuit and were more or less standing in the same corner in which they’d begun, “that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Claire shook her head.

“Ah, here comes Aunt Dora. She’s with some of her friends. Watch the one on the left. She has a sharp tongue.”

Claire blinked when she realized she recognized the lady of whom he spoke. It was Dahlia’s Aunt Janie, who nodded and smiled.

“Good evening, Miss Preston,” she said. “How are you finding the ball?”

“Very well, thank you.” Claire’s smile came easily, and she realized that Michael’s suggestion of champagne had been sound advice.

“There are a relatively even number of gentlemen to ladies, thank goodness,” the grand silver-haired lady in the center said.

Michael’s Aunt Dora leaned forward and said, “Your Grace, may I please present Miss Claire Preston?”

The lady in the center jerked a nod. “I’ve heard a great deal about you.”

Claire gave a winning smile and a regal nod, though she still wasn’t sure whom she was addressing.

“Heaven’s sake, Marie,” Janie said brusquely to the woman in the center. “You’re always going out of turn, aren’t you?” Janie made eye contact with Claire. “This is the Dowager Duchess Reeves.”

“Well, of course she already knew that,” the woman in the center snapped. “Didn’t you?”

Claire was grateful when the other ladies began to interject, for she didn’t wish to contradict the esteemed, elegant lady, or to offend her by informing her that she hadn’t known who she was. Claire realized that she might as well have spent the past four years in a prison, so much had passed her by.

She and her sisters had treated their townhome as such—or perhaps worse, because prisoners are encouraged to look out the windows—or so she imagined. But Claire and her sisters had stayed away from the banks of glass in order that the house might appear vacant and the bill collectors would leave them be.

“If the two of you aren’t married by the end of the Season,” Janie shocked Claire by saying, “you should come see us, Miss Preston.”

Claire just blinked at her.

“Oh, leave the girl be,” the dowager duchess said. “It’s the first ball, for heaven’s sake. Besides, we’re busy enough. We hardly need additional clients.”

“Clients?” Michael leaned forward, his eyebrows raised. “Aunt Dora, what’s this about clients?”

“Oh, nothing, dear,” she said with an easy smile, even as she reached over and pinched the dowager duchess.

The grand lady looked momentarily shocked, then swatted at her with her dangling fan. The three ladies left as if on cue, bickering about telling everyone in all of London.

“What on earth was that about?” Claire murmured.

“Nothing good, I’ll tell you that,” Michael said. “Aunt Dora always was one for a ridiculous scheme, and now that she’s fallen in with that lot, I shudder to think of what they might be coming up with.”

“She keeps excellent company. She cannot be getting into too much trouble,” she said.

Michael seemed mollified by the thought. Another servant passed by, carrying a tray of champagne flutes.

“What do you think?” Claire said, nodding at the glasses. “Shall I have another?”

“Gotten a taste for it, have you?” Michael smiled down at her. “I think you’re just fine with one.”

“That’s very controlling of you,” Claire said. “What if I want three more?”