Page 95 of A Duke in the Rough

“Until our next dance, Lady Honoria,” he said. “Let us hope it’s lessdramatic.” He tilted his head toward Burwood and Charlotte, who miraculously had not killed each other.

“What do you suppose that was all about?”

Before Drake could answer, Burwood approached and tugged his arm. “A word, Merrick.”

Drake craned his head, peering over his shoulder at Honoria as Burwood dragged him away.

The rich alto of Charlotte’s voice snapped Honoria’s attention away from Drake. “Do you have another dance with Mr. Merrick?”

“Yes. Three more, to be exact.”

Anne sidled up to them. “Three more dances!” She looked down at her own card, her mouth forming a pout. “I only have one with him. I don’t think I like this method of determining partners.”

“No one asked you,” Charlotte snapped. “Although since it was Burwood’s idea, I’m inclined to agree with you. Except . . .”

“Except what?” Anne asked.

The hair on the back of Honoria’s neck prickled, and it had nothing to do with the strands that Susan had so carefully crafted in Honoria’s coiffure. No. All credit belonged to Charlotte’s devious expression.

“Except,” Charlotte said, giving a pregnant pause. “Honoria’s card appears perfect.”

Anne huffed. Honoria almost expected her to stamp her foot. “But she has four dances with Mr. Merrick! Surely, there must be a mistake.” Anne’s eyes widened. “Perhaps that was supposed to be my card.”

As Anne reached for Honoria’s card, Honoria pulled it away. “No! Burwood himself told me it was specifically meant for me.”

Both Charlotte and Anne blinked.

Honoria felt the tiniest remorse at being so abrupt with her friend. But only for a moment. For once, or perhaps the second time in her life, she intended to stand up for herself, even if it meant a less than peaceful resolution. “I’m sorry, Anne. But it’s true,” she said, trying at least to smooth things over a little.

“Bravo, Honoria, and don’t apologize to her,” Charlotte said. “Anne, you cannot go snatching other people’s dance cards because you think theirs is better than yours.” The grin on her face reminded Honoria ofCharlotte’s brother Lord Nash. “Although I’m tempted to let you have mine. I have the waltz with that boor, Burwood.”

“And Honoria has the waltz with Mr. Merrick.” Anne’s disappointment tugged at Honoria’s heartstrings. “I have it with”—she peered at her own card, her expression changing to horror—“Lord Middlebury.”

Guilt twisted like a dagger at Honoria’s conscience. For a moment, she considered?—

“WhereisMiddlebury?” Charlotte asked, her brow furrowed as she turned and scanned the room.

The man was nowhere to be seen. And he, admittedly, was hard to miss. “He’s gone,” Honoria said.

“Good. Maybe he’ll stay gone the rest of the night,” Anne said, the desperation clear in her voice.

“He’s probably offended and stalked off in a huff after his dance with Miranda,” Charlotte said.

Unlike Anne, Honoria practically bubbled with anticipation for her waltz with Drake.

“What the bloodyhell was that all about?” Drake shot—what he hoped was—a scathing glare at Simon.

The man had the gall to appear affronted. He held a hand over his heart, adopting an expression of innocent ignorance. Neither of which ever applied to Simon. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“That business with Lady Charlotte. I’m surprised she didn’t slap you across your arrogant face.”

“That harpy doesn’t need any encouragement to inflict pain. My toes may never recover. But if youmustknow, I simply reminded her that, surprising as it may seem, we were both after the same result.”

Drake resisted the urge to grab Simon by his cravat and give him a good shake. “Which is?”

“To get Miss Weatherby to realize you and Lady Honoria are meant to be together.”

Drake blinked and shook his head. “You’re working together?” Inconceivable.

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