Page 33 of If the Duke Demands

“That they don’t auction off wives at Tattersall’s,” Quinn finished, choking back his laughter.

Sebastian said nothing, choosing to ignore his brothers’ antics tonight, and took another swallow of wine. They could taunt him all they wanted, but the reality was that his choice in wife was not his but one he owed to the title and to the prestige of the family. And to his father, for being with an actress the night Father died instead of with his family, a woman so inappropriate for him that he had to deceive them in order to be with her.

What he wanted as a man didn’t matter.

“The dancing will start soon.” He finished the glass of wine. “Go make your requests to dance with Miranda and make certain she has enough partners for the evening to enjoy herself.”

“That won’t be a problem,” Quinn commented with a nod of his head, drawing Sebastian’s attention to the interested looks of the men in the crush who noticed her arrival and were now making their way toward her.

“Good for her,” Robert murmured, letting his own gaze trail appreciatively over her figure.

A flash of annoyance pulsed hot through Sebastian. The last thing he needed to worry about tonight was Miranda and those gentlemen who were clamoring to meet her, falling all over themselves to request a dance from her, doing their best to draw her attention…And why the hell was Robert looking at her like that? He’d promised her to help make his brother notice her as a potential wife, not like…that.

“Request a dance, Robert,” he ordered, beginning to dislike the agreement he’d struck with Miranda. “And make certain it’s a waltz.”

He handed his empty glass to Quinn and strode forward, weaving his way through the packed room to Lady Jane. It was time to find a wife.

He reached her side, and the group of women parted around her to give him room to bow. “Lady Jane, you look lovely this evening.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.” She smiled warmly at him, her eyes sparkling. “So good to see you again, Trent.”

They had been formally introduced two weeks ago at the Duke and Duchess of Strathmore’s breakfast, held to toast the start of Parliament. The breakfast had gone exceedingly well, and Lady Jane had moved to the top of his list. Looking at her now, he knew he’d made the right decision.

The dynamics exuding from the group of admirers flocking around her changed palpably at his arrival. The men narrowed their eyes on him in competition, and the women on her in jealousy. Good Lord, he’d be grateful when he’d settled on a wife and could go back to avoiding all this courting nonsense.

Ignoring them, he smiled at her. “I would like to request a dance, my lady, if you have any left.”

“I would be honored.”

“Dare I hope for a waltz?” he pressed.

A smile played knowingly at her lips. “Will the first one do, Your Grace?”

His lips twitched. She’d obviously been reserving that dance for him. So Lady Jane was not only accepting suitors this season but accepting him most of all. Instead of being relieved that he had no real competition for her hand, his chest tightened with consternation at the manipulation of the whole marriage charade thetonenacted every season. In which he had now been swept up.

He nodded his head to accept the waltz. “And so they go to it,” he mumbled beneath his breath asHamletinexplicably popped into his head.

“Pardon?”

“Nothing.” He smiled down at her. “Before the dancing begins, it would be my pleasure to escort you on a turn—”

He cut himself off. From the corner of his eye, he saw Diana Morgan enter the ball on the arm of her father, General Morgan, and heard the whispered hush that fell across the party at her arrival. In her white satin dress and with her blond hair swept high onto her head in a pile of golden curls, the woman looked simply angelic, and her presence captivated the attention of the entire room.

Including Miranda, who turned away toward the wall and raised her fan, but not before Sebastian saw the anguished expression on her face. His heart broke for her.

***

Miranda blinked hard behind her fan, flitting it rapidly in pretense of being warm in order to cover the pain squeezing her heart. Diana Morgan…looking like an angel. She knew the woman was attending the ball; she’d surreptitiously confirmed it with Elizabeth Carlisle two days ago. But knowing that hadn’t prepared her for the full force of the woman’s arrival.

Miss Morgan looked lovely in her white dress as she floated down to the ballroom with her hair shining like spun gold beneath the chandeliers, and everyone in the room paused to watch her. Including Robert, who left Quinn at the refreshment table to go immediately to her side to welcome her to the ball with a low bow and kiss of her hand. And, judging from the length of time it took him to speak with her and her father before he returned to Quinton, to also claim several dances with her.

But of course he did, and who could blame him? Apparently, the retiring room gossip Miranda had been passing along to Sebastian was wrong. Lady Jane wasn’t this season’s Incomparable. Miss Morgan was. And leave it to the Carlisle brothers that they would end up with the two most sought-after women of the season, while she…while she…

Nothing!It mattered nothing about her. Oh, how could she ever compare? Even tonight, in the finest gown she’d ever worn, with her hair perfectly coiffed by Josie’s maid and wearing the emeralds that Elizabeth Carlisle had lent her, she couldn’t capture Robert’s attention.

“Excuse me,” she mumbled and hurried away from the group of Carlisle family friends who had gathered around her with the duchess and marchioness. She needed to find the retiring room. Desperately. To gain a moment of peace and quiet where she could gather herself and breathe, fight back the unshed tears stinging at her eyes, and find a way to go on with the rest of her evening without anyone knowing—

“Miranda.”