Page 20 of The Duke’s Matchmaker

He opened his mouth to say something else, to try to recapture her attention—but Lady Caroline had put a hand on his arm and was speaking to him again. “So, Your Grace,” she was saying, “I haven’t seen you at many of this season’s events. What brings you out today?”

“Well…that’s odd,” he managed. “I’ve been at several balls. I’m not sure why you and I haven’t seen one another.”

He knew what Jonathan would say, of course. You don’t see anyone if you spend all your time holed up in libraries. And his friend would be right—but this wasn’t exactly a strong case to do otherwise. He didn’t find himself wishing that he had spent more time with the ladies of the ton before now, for if he had, he would no doubt have crossed paths with Lady Caroline, and she would have forced her company upon him. And without Dorothy to steer him right, he wouldn’t have known he was making a mistake by accepting her company. He might even have found himself committing to a courtship with her. The thought was ghastly. Thank heavens I found Dorothy when I did, and that I have her help in these matters!

He looked over at her, hoping to signal his gratitude in some way—even if only by the expression on his face.

But she wasn’t looking at him. Her jaw was clenched and she was staring down at her plate. She was clearly angry about something. Angry at me? It was impossible to say for certain, but he had the sense that she was.

He did his best to catch her eye for a moment longer, but she was resolutely looking away from him.

Well…that was fine. If she wanted to make this difficult, he wasn’t going to fight her, even though she had promised she was going to help. He turned back to Lady Isabelle, hoping to say something to her.

Lady Caroline interjected again. “Do you think, Your Grace, that there will be dancing after dinner has concluded?”

“I’d imagine there might be,” he said, trying to keep his voice cordial.

“I’ll save a dance for you,” she said giddily. “Perhaps a pair of them. We can get away with that, and it won’t seem too untoward, I think. Don’t you think so? Two dances ought to be all right. I don’t think we can manage more than that in a single night, but will you be at the Whitworth Ball next week? Because I will be, and we’d be able to have a third dance there, and a fourth…”

“Indeed,” he interrupted her. “We can think about all that when the time gets closer, perhaps, but it would be rude of me not to socialize with the others at the table. If you’ll forgive me, Lady Caroline.”

And he turned his back on her so resolutely that he was sure she couldn’t possibly mistake his intention.

This left him facing Lady Isabelle, who he both needed and wanted to speak to, but once again he was at a loss as to what he should say. Would it be right to tell her he found her pretty? It was the truth, but it seemed a strange way to begin a conversation. Maybe it would be better to ask her a question, such as how she was enjoying the food. But then she would give the answer to the question and he would be right back where he was now—casting about for something to say, completely at a loss. This was impossible. What did anybody do under these circumstances? How were you supposed to get from introductions to a meaningful conversation?

If only he could speak to Dorothy! She was easy enough to talk to. A conversation with her wouldn’t bring her any nearer the marriage he sought, of course, but at least it might help him to relax.

The trouble was that not only was Dorothy still looking away from him—she was facing the gentleman on her other side now, making easy conversation—he wasn’t sure he wanted to speak to her. He couldn’t help but feel a little stranded. She had pledged to help him. Yes, she’d signaled who she thought he should be talking to, but then she had gotten angry for no clear reason that he could see, and now she had turned her attention to someone else altogether. How was that going to help? What if he needed her? Shouldn’t she have her attention on him?

He had expected a wallflower. Instead, she was the liveliest conversationalist at her end of the table. So much for that plan. He had abandoned the head of the table, with its circle of eager debutantes, to sit near the one woman who noticed everything. But if she never stopped talking, he would learn nothing from her at all.

He knew he shouldn’t really be angry with her. She had lived up to her part of the bargain. She had warned him away from Lady Caroline, and that had proven to be the right move. She had even signaled yes to Lady Isabelle. He didn’t know what else he wanted her to do.

But the fact that he was in this without her…it just felt wrong, somehow. It felt like he was at loose ends. If he could have spoken to her, he was sure he would have known exactly what to do next, but as it was, he was on his own and adrift.

CHAPTER 11

“Are you enjoying your soup, my lady?”

Dorothy turned to the gentleman next to her. She thought he had introduced himself, but she couldn’t recall his name. “The soup is very nice,” she said politely. “The whole meal is lovely.”

“I quite agree. I’m having a marvelous time.” He beamed and looked at her expectantly.

Dorothy knew she ought to answer, to keep the conversation moving, but she couldn’t seem to focus. All she could think about was her interaction with Nathaniel and the way he had reacted to it.

What was the matter with him?

Didn’t he want this plan to work? Didn’t he realize that she had signaled him to move forward with Lady Isabelle? She was a perfect match, Dorothy thought. She was exactly the sort of lady he was looking for. She was kind and even-tempered, she was lovely, she knew how to handle herself in social settings, she wasn’t one who would be looking for social advancement in making a match. She was, in other words, perfect.

And Nathaniel had hardly spoken to her.

She glanced up at him. His eyes were narrowed…was he angry at her? How could he possibly justify that? She was living up to what she had promised him and doing so flawlessly. He had no grounds to be angry.

The rest of dinner was spent in a sort of stand-off, the two of them taking it in turns to look at one another and then looking away quickly before they could be caught in the act. Even so, they did catch one another several times. Every time Dorothy’s eyes locked with Nathaniel’s, she felt heat rush into her face, until by the time the dessert plates were being cleared away she was sure that everyone must be able to see that something was going on between the two of them.

Nathaniel rose to his feet the moment decorum permitted him to do so, and now he did make forceful eye contact with Dorothy. A shudder ran through her, rooting her where she sat. She hadn’t imagined it. He was angry with her.

He jerked his head toward the hallway. His meaning couldn't have been clearer. He wanted her to excuse herself and go out there with him so that they could speak privately.