Page 15 of Three Rules to Wed a Duke

“What’s that?” Juliet asked, cringing.

“I mean has anything untoward occurred? You know, between the two of you?”

Juliet still looked thoroughly confused, and Frances sighed in frustration. She looked around to ensure that no one had crept into the garden, then leaned closer and whispered in her cousin’s ear just in case. Juliet’s eyes went wide as she pressed a hand to her heart.

“No! Absolutely not!” she cried. “I would never! But moreover, Thomas would never!”

“That is very good to hear, but there’s one lesson that was imparted to us at Miss Chatham’s school almost daily: there is no such thing as a man who wouldnever, especially if we are permitting or encouraging him. Always remember that,” Frances cautioned in earnest. “Come now, let’s return inside and rejoin the party. But mark my words, you and I shall talk about this another time.”

CHAPTER 6

Despite Frances’ protests, Juliet was determined to remain close to her side for the rest of the evening. Even though their feelings toward each other were still tentative, she did have to admit it was nice to have her younger cousin to stand with her and keep her from feeling so out of place. When Emma or Agnes would stop by to chat with them between dances, it made the entire party seem even more lively.

There was only one thing that kept the ball from being positively enjoyable, even in spite of all of the unexpected conditions surrounding the evening.

The Duke of Preston.

To Frances’ dismay, he was in attendance as well. On its own, that wouldn’t be such a terrible thing. But the fact that he did not dance nor speak with anyone was unnerving. It was made worse by the knowledge that he was watching her, staring at her openly at times. Frances tried to tell herself it was only her imagination, or that perhaps he was actually enthralled with the painting onthe wall behind her. Perhaps he was hypnotized by the flickering candlelight from a sconce just over her shoulder, reduced to a trance that he couldn’t awaken from.

“Why is that man staring at you?” Juliet whispered, crushing Frances’ hope.

“I don’t know who you’re referring to,” Frances said, looking around the room.

“That man,” Juliet said, raising her hand to point before Frances pushed it back down roughly.

“It’s not polite to point.”

“Then how will you know who I mean?”

“It’s probably for the best that I don’t know. Besides, I’m certain no one is staring, for that would be rude.”

“But he is! I can see him quite plainly. Watch, I shall wave to him, and when he returns my wave you will know—”

“Do not!” Frances hissed, pushing Juliet’s arm down once more. “Fine, I know who you’re referring to. I’ve seen him quite well myself. I’m just pretending to ignore him, as should you.”

“But he’s so handsome! How can any young lady possibly ignore someone with such dashing good looks? Though I must say, hedoes look very much like he might devour someone. He’s so cross looking!”

“Juliet, please. Shouldn’t you be dancing?” Frances asked, sighing with exasperation.

“No. I don’t want to dance with any of these men.”

“Then perhaps you should run along to the garden and see if Thomas is still waiting for you.”

“Really?” Juliet asked, her eyes bright.

“No, not really. I’m sorry, I was only being facetious. The fact of the matter is I have no wish to look at that man. There’s something unusual about him that I don’t like.”

“Wait a moment… isn’t he the one who came to the house the other day? The one Mother got all in a tizzy about?”

“Perhaps they look somewhat similar. I really can’t tell from across the room,” Frances said, looking around and hoping to see Agnes or Emma coming to her rescue.

“Oh. Well, you’ll get a better look at him soon enough. He’s coming over this way,” Juliet said, raising her hand to point again but remembering and putting it down.

“What?” Frances demanded, looking directly at him without thinking.

To be certain, the Duke of Preston was walking towards them, his gaze still fixed on her. The thought of a man with such unbelievably handsome features moving closer, unable to take his eyes off her, should have sent thrills of delight flooding through her limbs. Instead, recalling their two previous encounters, Frances wished for nothing more than a sudden accident to end the party at once.

“Miss Turner,” the duke said, bowing. He paid no heed to Juliet standing very close to Frances’ elbow, smiling as though she’d just discovered some sort of prize. “Would you be willing to dance?”

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