Page 65 of Christmas Comes to Little Valentine

“Miss Bancroft, how do you do? I understand this is your first ball. How are you enjoying it so far?”

Meg looked at him in surprise but smiled warmly, for he seemed friendly and interested. “Very well indeed, sir. Though one could not fail to be pleased by such a splendid setting, and Nathaniel’s family has made me feel so very welcome. I am not half so nervous as I might have feared.”

He nodded approvingly at her. “You are looking forward to the dancing, I imagine?”

“I am, very much. Though I have not had quite as much practice as I would have liked, but I shall do my utmost not to tread on any toes!” she added with a laugh.

“Well, I am willing to risk it, if you would do me the honour?”

Meg was surprised by the request but complied happily, opening the little dance card. “Would you be agreeable to the quadrille?”

“Most agreeable,” he said, smiling at her.

“Then I shall look forward to it,” Meg said, handing him the card to pencil in his name.

“Likewise, Miss Bancroft. I shall see you later,” he said, handing back the dance card before giving another bow and taking his leave of them.

Meg looked back at the dowager, who appeared satisfied but said nothing until she spied another victim. “Ah, I see some of my young friends. Miss Honeywell, Miss Marwick, come here, if you please, and don’t let that silly chit run away. Have courage, Miss Halfpenny, we won’t eat you.”

Meg smiled at the newcomers, greeting Miss Isabelle Honeywell warmly and recognising the terrified looking Miss Halfpenny as the young woman with the dog in front of whom she and Nat had dissolved into hysterics. She might have felt embarrassed at the memory if she’d thought the young woman remembered, but she was clearly in too much distress to think of anything but escape. She was gazing at Hawkney with a look of sheer horror, which, rather to Meg’s surprise, was echoed upon the duke’s face.

“You!” he said, apparently so shocked he was betrayed into saying something he never should have done or would have done under any other circumstance.

“Hawk!” Nat hissed, glaring at him.

But at his outraged tone, the girl—who had looked as though she might disappear in a puff of smoke before their eyes she was so mortified—put up her chin. “Indeed,” she replied stiffly, holding his gaze.

The dowager was watching this exchange with obvious fascination. “You know Miss Halfpenny, Hawkney?”

“No,” he replied, his tone implying that he had no desire to remedy the situation either. “I do not. She is merely responsible for nearly breaking my neck.”

“Do you mean to say this is the creature you came home ranting about, the one who leapt out in front of your horse?” his grandmother demanded, looking astonished.

“The very same.”

“I did nothing of the sort, as you well know, sir,” Miss Halfpenny replied furiously, before turning to the dowager. “I had merely bent down to pick up my dog, who was fatigued by the climb. It’s no fault of mine that this… this ill-mannered creature has not enough skill to control his mount, who almost killed me and my dog, and then had the temerity to shout at me for his own poor judgement.”

There was a silence so absolute Meg felt it ringing in her ears.

“That’s your grace,” the duke bit out, the words delivered crisply, whilst his indignation swelled around them.

Miss Halfpenny’s complexion underwent a series of colourful shades, segueing from scarlet to alabaster until finally settling upon a sickly green.

“Excuse me,” she managed, and then fled.

“Well, well, Miss Halfpenny has a backbone after all,” the dowager said, with a delighted smile.

“A backbone?” Hawkney repeated, incensed. “Did you not hear her? She’s a bold chit with no manners and a complete disregard for her betters.”

“Lord, Hawk, never mind her, hear yourself. When did you get so stuffy?” Nat complained, shaking his head.

His cousin glared at him. “Did you listen to what she just said to me?”

“I did, and it sounded perfectly reasonable,” Nat replied with a shrug. Meg pinched his arm, knowing he was being deliberately provoking. “I’ve never known you to bully shy young women either, Hawk. What got into you?”

“That creature is not shy!” Hawkney protested.

“I can’t believe it,” Miss Honeywell said, in obvious confusion. “Clara never says a word… to anyone.”