Page 133 of The Dueling Duchess

Personally, Guy dreaded seeing the Regent. His father had been a great friend of the Prince of Wales, the two of them bringing out the worst in each other. What made the situation even more complicated was that Guy’s grandfather had been close friends with the king. Since his grandfather had never been one to mince words, he’d once, over port and cigarillos at Fairhurst, pinned the Prince’s ears back on the subject of filial responsibility. Prinny had cut his stay short after that dressing down and had never visited the ducal seat again.

Guy realized he’d been gathering wool and shook himself, looking from Cecile to Blade. “I’d like to claim my two sets with you both now, before what will surely be an eager rush. Cecile, may I have the first waltz and the supper dance?”

“You may,” she said.

He turned to Blade. “How about the first set and the after-supper dance?”

Blade’s lips curved into a faint smile. “You may.”

Guy and Cecile had discussed the matter of Blade and Elliot only yesterday. It had been Cecile’s idea that Guy should ask Blade for the first dance.

“But Elliot will be there; perhaps he’d like to ask her for the first dance,” Guy had pointed out.

“No, this will be better. It will give him something to think about.”

Guy had laughed at that. “If you think I can make Elliot jealous, think again. The man is as unflappable as they come. Besides, I haven’t stayed friends with him for so long by behaving like a cow-handed thruster.”

“I take it that is some sort of hunting cant?” she had asked, cocking a glossy black eyebrow. “If Elliot is interested in her, then he needs to show it.”

It just so happened that Guy agreed with her sentiment. If he had to suffer the slings and arrows of love, he wanted his friend to suffer, too.

“So, here we are,” Guy said as they approached the square. He pointed out the window. “It’s just ahead—four houses away.”

“People won’t just get out and walk?” Blade asked, her eyes wide as she took in the line they’d joined.

Guy gasped. “For shame, Miss Brown! You would ruin your dancing slippers.”

Blade glanced down at her feet as if she couldn’t recall what she was wearing.

“Are they comfortable?” he asked.

“Not as comfortable as my boots.”

Guy laughed. “I couldn’t agree more.”

* * *

Cecile knew she was staring around the massive foyer and grand staircase like a yokel, but how could she not?

It had been many years since she’d lived at the Duc de La Fontaine’s country estate, and even then, she’d not gone into any part of the house other than the servant areas.

“I’m so glad you could come,” Sin said, looking every inch the duke he was, his pale blond hair gleaming, his green eyes like peridots in his handsome face.

“Thank you, Your Grace. It is a pleasure to see you again,” Cecile said, offering her hand in greeting.

The people surrounding them were deadly silent and Cecile knew they were all waiting to hear what was exchanged. Not just because of Guy—who had certainly caused a flurry of chatter when he’d entered the house—but also because a goodly number of the men would recognize her.

Blade was more fortunate; thanks to the mask she wore for all her performances, nobody would suspect that she was the knife expert at Farnham’s Fayre.

Marianne, who stood beside Sin, looked every bit as grand as her magnificent husband in a flattering gown of gold silk. The gems around her neck were reminiscent of some of the ones Cecile had seen at the Tower.

She had to admit that as grand as the other woman’s jewelry was, she preferred her daintier filigreed necklace.

Marianne squeezed her hands so hard it hurt. “I’m so pleased you could come,” she said, taking one of Blade’s hands, too. “Both of you.” She leaned close to Cecile, as if to inspect her necklace and said, “My, what a lovely setting that is! So beautiful and unusual.” Before Cecile could respond, Marianne whispered, “We shall save places for you at our supper table.” She pulled back and smiled, her mask firmly in place. “I do hope you enjoy yourselves.”

“Well, that was that,” Guy murmured once they’d stepped away from the receiving line. He smiled and offered Cecile and Blade an arm. “Shall we, ladies?”

“I don’t think that will be necessary,” a low voice said from off to their right.