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Ophelia smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “You and Lord Hartwell were on the balcony for an excessively long time.”
Juliet huffed. “Don’t be absurd. He mostly wants to talk about you.”
Ophelia raised a brow. “Me?”
Juliet stepped toward the window. “He sees himself as Chase’s protector, I think.”
“Really? The protective sort?”
Juliet turned back to her sister. “You’re not offended that he thinks he needs to protect Chase from you?”
Ophelia shook her head. “I’m not offended at all. I love anyone who only wants the best for my future husband. I’m sure Lord Hartwell will see that in time.”
Juliet frowned. How could her sister be so generous of spirit? Now Juliet felt petty and inferior. Then again, perhaps Ophelia was the person that Juliet should protect.
Chapter Five
Dane stood behind the settee as one of the sisters played at the pianoforte. She was very good and he tried to enjoy the music but Juliet sat just in front of him, distracting him. She leaned forward, intent upon her sister’s performance, the small of her back arched in the loveliest way. Her auburn locks were pulled back in a loose coif that then trailed down her pale green silk gown, caressing the soft fabric.
He itched to reach out and touch the strands. He clenched his teeth. What the bloody hell was wrong with him? He never allowed fits of infatuation to affect him so. Well, not since Tiffany.
He’d been all of eighteen when he’d met her. At the age of one and twenty, she’d dazzled him with her beauty, sophistication, and social grace. As a new marquess, he’d been weighed down with his loss and the responsibility that came with a new title and she seemed the answer to a prayer.
He’d courted her without pause and, for once in his life, he’d acted on instinct rather than reason. And in a matter of a few weeks, everything fell into place. He’d even purchased a ring, a large diamond, to adorn her finger and make her his wife.
He blinked back to the present as a round of voracious clapping filled the room. The guests were all the same as the morning, with the exception of one addition, Lord Dashlane. Dane had met the man in London, a pretty dandy, the man liked attention the way a harlot might like gold.
“Bravo,” he called, standing and clapping the loudest in the group. “Well done.”
Dane frowned as he stared at him, before his gaze drifted back to Juliet. She also stared at Dashlane with a slight frown marking her brow. Did she not approve of the man either?
“Well done, Cordelia,” Mr. Moorish said as Cordelia rose from the bench and gave a slight bow, returning to the group.
“What shall we do next?” Bianca called. “Juliet, any ideas?”
Juliet shook her head silently and several Moorish sisters turned to stare.
“Not one?” Cordelia asked, looking her sister up and down. “Are you not feeling well?”
“I feel fine,” she answered, straightening up. “Never better. I just don’t have any games in mind.”
Dashlane clapped his hands. “How much time do we have until dinner?”
“No more than half an hour,” her father said.
“A quick game then,” Dashlane said. “How about Blind Man’s Bluff?”
The assembly clapped and Dashlane began to untie his cravat from his neck. “We’ll use this as a blindfold.”
Everyone scattered to grab chairs and formed a circle. “Who shall be the blind man?” Bianca asked as she settled into a chair.
“Juliet,” Ophelia called.
Dane, who’d stayed behind the settee, found himself approaching the circle. The idea that Juliet would be touching the other men made his chest tighten. He hadn’t intended to join in but he didn’t want to sit and watch her either. He let out a slow breath, irritated with his own reaction.
Juliet shook her head. “Oh no, that’s all right.”
Cordelia tsked. “You love to be it.”
