Page 72 of The Wedding-Crashing Duchess

Augusta looked surprised. “Keep me company?”

“At the ball,” Gregory explained. “Ravenhill rarely attends such things.”

Augusta laughed, “I hardly think I would be abandoned. Charity will be there.”

“Charity is married to Blackford, who will undoubtedly steal her away for half the dances, and Temperance becomes distracted the moment she sees someone she knows. You could find yourself alone within minutes.”

“I will attend,” Ronan said.

He immediately disliked the expression that appeared on his friend’s face.

Pure, unmistakable satisfaction.

Gregory rested his forearm against the edge of the table and regarded Ronan with open amusement. “You will?”

“Yes.”

Gregory’s mouth curved. “What a pleasant surprise. I was simply unaware that you had developed an affection for balls.”

“I have not.”

Gregory leaned back, his smile deepening. “Then I admit I am struggling to understand this sudden enthusiasm.”

Augusta was looking between them again, her expression increasingly amused.

Ronan continued before Gregory could say anything else. “My wife is attending. I will accompany her.”

Gregory nodded slowly. “Naturally.”

Augusta looked at Ronan. “You truly mean to come? I would not want you to spend an entire evening doing something you dislike simply because you think you are obliged to.”

“There is no need,” he brushed off her concern. “You are still welcome to attend, Gregory. I am not forbidding you from going.”

Gregory looked up with exaggerated relief. “How generous.”

“Temperance says it will be terribly crowded. She claims everyone in London has been trying to secure invitations.”

“They have,” Gregory told her. “Hetherford has recently renovated the ballroom.

The irritation returned, though there was no reasonable explanation for it.

Ronan had no objection to Augusta speaking with other men. She was a duchess. She would attend countless social events.

Gregory remained for another hour after dinner.

By the time he finally stood to leave, Ronan had exhausted what little patience remained to him.

Augusta rose as well. “I am glad you stayed, Lord Brawnhite. Despite what my husband would have you believe, you were very welcome.”

Gregory bowed over her offered hand. “You are very kind, Your Grace. And I assure you I shall remember that invitation the next time Ravenhill attempts to have me removed from the property.”

That damned smile returned.

“I shall see you both at the ball, then.”

“You will,” Augusta replied.

Gregory took a step toward the door before pausing and looking back. “Ronan?”