Page 26 of The Mistletoe Duke

“She does,” Christian said, earning a glare as well. “It was a Susana’s doing,” his friend said when he noticed the frown.

Susana laughed. “Hardly. All I did was loan her a dress.”

“And the sapphires, of course,” Meg said, touching the bluer than blue stones at her throat.

“You look…” He couldn’t finish the sentence. Words failed him.

“Doesn’t she though?” Susana said with a smile. “Now come, darling.” She hooked her arm in Meg’s and towed her off into the room, presumably to make introductions. Jonathan didn’t want her to go. He wanted her to stay here by his side. Where she belonged.

But what could he do?

There was propriety to follow after all.

He hated bloody propriety.

Once Meg had arrived, the last thing Jonathan wanted to do was stand in the receiving line, but there was nothing for it. Mother wouldn’t let him leave. Not until all the guests were accounted for.

Was it wrong to be peeved that Mattingly and St. Clare were late?

By the time they came down the stairs, the party was in full swing. It was a small crowd, for a London soiree, but an absolute crush for a house party with over fifty guests. Mother had arranged for a string quartet to play in the niche, and a full buffet featuring her favorite holiday offerings. But Jonathan had no desire to eat.

Once his friends appeared, all he wanted to do was go find Meg. She had disappeared into the throng.

He worried that she would be out of her depth with the mavens of the ton, and the mothers of the young girls Mother had invited. He hated the thought that she might be uncomfortable, or feel out of place. She hadn’t been to a real party in…

Well, he had no idea.

“So,” Mattingly said, rubbing his hands together. “Where is she?”

The question was beginning to annoy him. “Who?”

“Who?” St. Clare chuckled. “This woman we’ve come all this way to meet. You must introduce us so we can take her measure. Oh, I say, is that Hisdick?”

Mattingly whistled. “And who is that lovely creature with him?”

Jonathan scanned the crowd. His stomach tightened as he spotted Hisdick in a corner, where he was wont to be. But he was sitting with Meg. And she was laughing.

Laughing!

He set his teeth and headed in that direction, ignoring Mattingly and St. Clare as best he could.

As he approached, Meg smiled at him. “Hallo, Your Grace. Is the receiving line finished?”

“Quite finished.” He tried not to snap.

“This is a lovely party,” Hisdick said. Was he aware there was a crumb clinging to his moustache? Probably not. Hisdick never was aware of much.

“What are you two doing?” Surely this was not the accusation it sounded.

“We’re talking,” Meg said with an elated glint in her eye, “About Pride and Prejudice.”

Jonathan frowned at her. “Odd topic.”

She laughed. “It’s a book, silly.”

“By Jane Austen,” Hisdick felt required to add. “It’s a fiction.”

Meg nodded. “But a lovely fiction.”