CHAPTER 10

The duke had seen her now. He had also apparently noticed that a couple of gentlemen were hastening toward her, determined to get there before he did. A smile touched the corner of his mouth. The expression in his blue eyes made Clara feel ridiculously hot and bothered. She felt as though his gaze were stripping her *****. Damn the man. How could he work such mischief across a crowded ballroom?

Fleet had caught up to the two young men, Lords Elton and Tarver, and had diverted them from their original course toward Clara by grasping their arms, bending to have a word in their ears and then sending them packing in no uncertain terms. Clara’s lips thinned. Though she had not particularly wished to be importuned by either Elton or Tarver, nor had she a need for Fleet to play the high-handed protector. Especially when she earlier rejected his offer of help.

Fleet was upon them now. He bowed, first to Lady Juliana, then to Clara.

“How do you do, Lady Juliana, Miss Davencourt? It is a pleasure to see you this evening.”

A faint smile curved Juliana’s lips. “Thank you, Fleet. How pretty of you. Now, I sense you want something. How may we help you?”

Clara could sense Fleet watching her. She turned away and pretended a complete lack of interest. Surely there was some fascinating event occurring on the other side of the dance floor that she could focus upon... Fleet took her hand. Her pulse jumped. He was smiling, very sure of himself.

“I was hoping you would grant me the pleasure of a dance, Miss Davencourt.”

Lady Juliana was looking pointedly at their clasped hands. Fleet let go of Clara and she have him a look of limpid innocence.

“I beg your pardon, your grace, but I do not dance this evening.”

Both Fleet and Juliana looked startled.

“You do not dance tonight!” Fleet sounded thoughtful and not in the least put out. “How very dull for you to attend a ball and not indulge in the dancing.”

Clara smiled. “I have no wish to indulge with you, your grace. You must forgive me. Pleasant as it is to see you, I told you earlier that I was not in need of your escort.”

She sensed both Juliana’s amusement and Fleet’s chagrin, although he did not permit any expression to mar his features. Instead, he turned to Lady Juliana.

“If you were to recommend me as a suitable partner, ma’am, Miss Davencourt might be persuaded to relent.”

Clara’s lips twitched. She had to concede that it was clever of him to try an approach through Juliana but she was fairly certain her sister-in-law would not let her down.

Juliana laughed. “I cannot recommended you as suitable in any way, Fleet, at least not to a respectable young lady.”

Fleet gave Clara a rueful smile that nevertheless held a hint of some other, more disturbing emotion in its depths. It promised retribution.

“Then if you will not consider me suitable, Lady Juliana,” Fleet continued, “pray take pity on me.”

Juliana flicked an imaginary speck from her skirts with disdainful fingers. “Pointless to appeal to my sense of pity, Fleet. You know I have none.”

“I know your husband intends to dance with you, Lady Juliana,” Fleet said, watching Martin finish his conversation with an acquaintance and make haste to join them. “A pity that Miss Davencourt denies herself—and me—a like privilege.”

Juliana’s whole face lit up at the sight of her husband. “When you are married, Fleet, then you may have the privilege of dancing with your wife. For now it is Miss Davencourt’s right to deny a suitor if she chooses and she is weary of rakes. I suggest that you nurse your disappointment in the card room. Clara?”

Clara inclined her head. “Lady Juliana is in the right of it, your grace. I shall bid you good evening.”

Fleet bowed gracefully. “Then I shall take you at your word. Good night, Lady Juliana, Miss Davencourt.”

He went without a backward glance.

Clara watched him go. The lowering thing was that he radiated such indifference. She wished she had not given in to the childish impulse to thwart him. It was not that she wished to dance with either Lord Elton or Lord Tarver, but she had wanted to make that choice for herself. Once Fleet had dismissed them and presented himself as substitute she had vowed to reject him.

“A word of warning,” Juliana said, turning back to Clara for a moment as Martin urged her toward the dancing. “Do not make a habit of playing these games with the Duke of Fleet. He made the game when you were still in the schoolroom.”

“I think Clara was quite right to turn Fleet down,” Martin said unexpectedly. “He can do nothing to enhance a lady’s reputation.”

“No, dear,” Juliana said with an affectionate smile, “but as usual you have no notion of what is really going on.” She led her spouse away to join the set that was forming for the quadrille.

He made the game...

Clara shivered a little. Fleet had told her that very morning he was no ordinary rake. She must be mad.

Everyone else was dancing and Clara realized she was the only girl left sitting out. It was not something that had happened often, but whatever Fleet said to Elton and Tarver had evidently made the rounds, for although plenty of gentlemen were looking in her direction, none were making any move to engage her. How exceedingly annoying. Clara’s exasperation with the Duke of Fleet grew stronger. Some of the debutantes were smiling behind their fans, clearly delighted the prettiest girl in the room was partnerless for once. Clara gritted her teeth. She would not stay to be laughed at. She would have to make a strategic retreat to the ladies withdrawing room.

It felt like an unconscionably long time that she lurked in the shadows, pinning and repinning her silver brooch, tidying her already immaculate hair and smoothing her dress. Eventually she was so bored she could bear it no longer. She stalked out into the corridor wondering whether Juliana and Martin had concluded their dance and would provide her with some company.

The corridor was dark and quite. Sprigs of holly and mistletoe adorned the walls here, as well, between the flaring lanterns.

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