The Matchmaker And The Duke

‘You waltz better than most ladies I have danced with.’

She frowned. ‘You flatter me, Your Grace.’

‘I do not flatter, Mrs Durant. It is not in my nature.’

‘Then I thank you for the compliment.’

She glanced up and was surprised to find that while his face retained its usual expression of cool detachment, his blue eyes were dancing with amusement.

‘What is the jest?’

His lips twitched as if he was holding back a smile. ‘No jest. I do wonder, however, what I have done for you to take me in dislike.’

She started and he somehow caught her before she stumbled and swung her into a turn beneath his arm. At the conclusion of the move they were face to face and exceedingly close. Close enough for her to inhale his bay-scented cologne and see the faint haze of dark stubble on his square chin. She really liked the firm set of his jaw. It showed character and purpose.

She collected her wandering thoughts. ‘I have not taken you in dislike, Your Grace.’

‘Stone, if you please.’

She nodded at his inclusion of her in his circle of friends, though she was sure his closest friends likely called him Jasper.

‘But you are reserving judgement,’ he said as he turned her and then glided down the length of the room with his hand firmly on her waist. There was nothing improper about his touch, but every nerve in her body seemed to tingle with awareness.

‘Not at all.’ She would be glad when this dance was over. Would she not?

‘One hates to argue with a lady, but the expression on your face says otherwise. For some reason, I make you nervous. We met before, did we not? I have a faint memory that eludes me in detail.’

She gazed at him, surprised. Even a faint memory was more than she had expected. Unless he had pretended not to recognise her the second time they met. ‘There is nothing to recall.’

He tilted his head. ‘Was I so unremarkable, then?’

Dash it all. He was not going to be satisfied. ‘We met the year I came out.’

His brow furrowed slightly. ‘And?’

‘And nothing. We were introduced. We did not speak again.’

‘Was I rude?’

‘You were yourself.’

He twirled around and back again. ‘So, I was rude.’

‘It does not matter, Stone. It was years ago. Before I was married.’

‘If it did not matter, then you would not still be...annoyed.’

They reached at the end of the room and he guided her around several couples who were making a hash of the turn.

‘I am not annoyed.’ She huffed out a breath. ‘I will admit, I was not impressed by the haughtiness of your manner, but it is or should be long forgotten.’

‘I see. You know, when I inherited the dukedom, it did not take me long to realise that many of those offering friendship were drawn to me by the idea of the title. I admit to being a little standoffish.’

‘Only a little?’ She gave him a quizzical look.

‘Very well. Very standoffish. Wary of all except those I knew to be my good friends.’

Heat attacked her cheeks as she recalled her mortification at the moment he had looked down his nose at her and moved on. ‘It is good to see you coming out of your shell at last, then.’ Her voice sounded a little more tart that she had intended.

His lips flattened. ‘I see that I caused you great offence.’ The music ended and he offered her his escort, returning her to the corner of the room where her charges awaited.

‘It is water under the bridge,’ she said. ‘I scarcely recall it.’

‘Then there is no more to be said.’ His voice was chilly.

He bowed to the girls and sauntered away. She watched him go with an odd feeling in her chest. A painful sense of regret that she had not been a little kinder.

‘Mrs Durant, Lord Sherbourn wants to know if he can dance with me again. He said as long as no more than two—’

‘I thought all your dances were spoken for.’

‘They are.’

‘Then there is your answer. Once you have agreed to dance you cannot go back on your word. It would not be polite.’

‘I expect if it was the Duke of Stone who wanted a second dance with me, you would find a way to arrange it.’

She stared at Charity in surprise. ‘Of course I would not. What would make you say such a thing?’

Charity sighed. ‘Because you want me to marry him. You and Papa.’

‘I think it is far too soon to be talking of marriage to anyone,’ she said briskly.

The young man who had engaged Charity for the next dance arrived at her elbow.

‘Miss Mitchell, are you ready for our dance? I hope you like the quadrille,’ he said. ‘It is my favourite.’

For a moment Amelia thought the easy-going girl might dig in her heels, but she smiled sweetly at the young man. ‘I do like it.’ She went off with her partner seeming happy enough, but left Amelia with a feeling of foreboding.

Perhaps Amelia should warn Stone off. Tell him that Charity’s feelings were engaged elsewhere.

She froze. What would Mr Mitchell say if she did any such thing? And what if she was wrong? Surely Charity could not prefer Lord Sherbourn over the Duke of Stone? What if Stone’s emotions were truly engaged? He would be terrible hurt to be rejected for the likes of Sherbourn. The idea of Charity causing him pain gave her a little stab in her heart.

Perhaps when Charity got to know the Duke better, she would see his true worth.

It was clearly her duty to help open her eyes. Duty was not always a kind master.

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