Page 135 of The Dueling Duchess

Cecile laughed. “I would say adequately done is more accurate.”

It was easy to spot Guy in the crowded room because he was taller than most of the other men.

“How was it?” Guy asked as they approached. “Did Elliot knock you over or tear your frock?”

“He dances exquisitely,” Cecile assured him.

For his part, Elliot was so busy gazing at Blade that he didn’t even hear his friend’s teasing.

Cecile and Guy exchanged an amused look as Elliot and Blade stared silently at each other.

A handsome blond man appeared at Guy’s elbow, his eyes admiring as he looked at Cecile. She couldn’t recall the newcomer’s name, but she’d seen him at the Fayre many times, always in the company of several other loud, ill-behaved aristocrats. “I say, Fairh—er, that is, Darlington—could you introduce me to your lady friend?”

Guy’s good humor evaporated like a drop of hot water on red-hot steel. “No, Lorimer, I will not introduce you. Go back and frolic with all the other young pups.”

Cecile almost felt sorry for the younger man, whose face turned an alarming shade of red before he beat a hasty retreat, scurrying away like a rodent.

Guy glared after him, his expression thunderous.

Cecile knew it was a breach of etiquette to ask for an introduction in such a way. Clearly Lorimer hadn’t thought a mere circus worker merited much courtesy.

“Good show,” Elliot commended his friend. “Best to nip that sort of behavior in the bud,” he added, looking rather fierce himself. He turned his intense, dark blue gaze on Blade. “May I have the next set and the supper set if you’ve not already thrown it away on this rogue?” He jerked his chin toward Guy.

Blade gave him a surprisingly arch look. “You may.”

“And may I also say that you look quite stunning this evening, Miss Brown?”

Blade’s cheeks flushed, but her expression remained cool. “I believe you just did, Mr. Wingate.”

Guy threw his head back and laughed.

Chapter 23

Guy knew it was petty of him to want to keep all Cecile’s dances to himself, but he could accept that he was petty where she was concerned.

However, what he wanted was not what he would get.

Marianne made a constant stream of introductions to both women after she left her position in the receiving line. By the time the supper waltz came around, Guy was bloody tired of seeing every bloke in the ton lining up to have a dance with Cecile. He was grateful to Sin and Marianne for saving them places at their supper table.

“I don’t suppose you know where Elliot and Blade have disappeared to?” Sin whispered to Guy as Marianne and Cecile chatted happily with Sin’s aunt Julia.

Guy eyed the very conspicuous two empty chairs at their table—prime real estate—and gave a slight shake of his head. “It’s not like Elliot to be so obvious,” he admitted. “You might as well give the seats away.”

“Not just yet. They may show up,” Sin said.

But neither Elliot nor Blade made an appearance at supper.

“Can you make sure nothing has gone amiss with them?” Sin asked as their table broke up.

“I’ll keep an eye out for both of them if you can convince your wife to quit bringing me giggling dance partners,” Guy retorted.

Sin laughed. “I’ll see what I can do. Right now, however, I’m engaged to dance the next set with Cecile,” he said, glancing around. “Where did she disappear to so quickly?”

“I don’t know, but you’d better not keep her waiting,” Guy warned, amused when Sin went hurrying off.

Guy had no dances with Cecile to look forward to after supper, so the evening loomed before him. Given the current state of his reputation, he’d hoped that he’d not be called upon to dance with many debutantes. Unfortunately, it appeared that a goodly number of matchmaking mamas still considered him eligible husband material, if only for his august connections, so he’d been trapped into more sets than he would have liked.

It was during one of those unwanted dances that Nathan Whitfield saw an opportunity to claim a dance with Cecile. A waltz, no less.