Page 20 of Dukes Do It Better
Champagne sparkled in her glass, and strands of diamonds and citrines glittered from Emma’s throat—her mother’s necklace she’d borrowed for the evening. Most of her dances were spoken for shortly after arriving. Since every man was a friend of her brother’s, single, and respectable, she suspected Calvin was launching a counterattack for her affections after meeting Mal in their drawing room over a week before. Either that, or he was simply being, well, Calvin, and smoothing the way for her first official Season event in years.
“Emma, may I present Lord Mason. Mason and I went to school together and he’s heard so much about you.” Cal swept a hand toward a decent-looking fellow with very little hair and a bright smile.
Lord Mason bowed over her hand, but didn’t go so far as to kiss the top or squeeze her fingers, which she appreciated.
“Lady Emma, I’ve been looking forward to meeting you. Would you care to dance?”
And so it went.
Lord Mason, cheerful and unassuming.
Lord Dawson, dashing and flirtatious.
Lord Hamilton, light on his feet and attentive to every word she said.
Mr. Percy, shy and endearing.
Her brother was, if nothing else, thorough. As one dance ended and she returned to her original place in the ballroom, the next man stepped forward. By the end of the second dance, she motioned to Cal to pass along the gentleman to Adelaide for the next turn around the room.
Thank God Adelaide could dance, otherwise it would have been an awkward moment for everyone. As it was, Adelaide hadn’t taken too kindly to Emma forcibly removing her from the foliage along the edge of the ballroom. Now on her third partner, Adelaide’s smile had overtaken the initial discomfort of leaving the cover of the palms and ficus.
Madame Bouvier had created a brilliant confection of a gown from the apricot satin. And as predicted, the rustle of slippery material shot through with gold lent a fantastical quality to gliding around the room on the arm of one eligible man after another.
Emma was curtsying to a dark-haired viscount at the end of a quadrille when it occurred to her that this was only the second time since Alton was born that she didn’t have to be a mother for the night. Not in this exact moment, anyway. Alton was home, safe, and able to be tucked away for an hour or two from the forefront of her mind. The one other time she’d handed off her responsibilities to this degree, she’d landed in Mal’s arms.
She scanned the room for him, for the tenth time since arriving. No matter who Calvin sent to dance with her, Emma couldn’t help being on the lookout for a tall, dark-haired piratical duke who’d told her in no uncertain terms he wanted her back in his bed.
Adelaide met her as she exited the cluster of dancers lining up for the next set. “I’m parched. I don’t think I’ve danced this much in years. Do you want to find the refreshment table with me?”
“I’d be happy to fetch you a glass of punch, ladies,” Lord Hamilton said, letting go of Adelaide’s arm and stepping away.
Emma stayed him with a gentle touch on his coat sleeve. “No need, milord, but thank you for offering. Miss Martin and I shall find our way.”
He stuttered, “Are, are you sure?”
Emma confirmed with her friend through a silent glance, then smiled. “How else do you expect us to steal a moment and discuss what charming company you’ve been this evening?” She winked and linked her arm with Adelaide’s, then headed for the double doors leading out of the ballroom.
“I love not having a chaperone. Being a widow is fantastic,” Emma whispered, and Adelaide giggled.
“I can hardly wait to be married so I can do whatever I want. Within reason, of course.”
“And what would you do with your day if you had no one to answer to?”
“I’d spend so much more time in the British Museum. I’d get involved with charities—and not by sitting on a committee and donating money. But actually helping. I want to finally matter, if I can say such a thing without sounding maudlin.” Adelaide smiled tightly. After a moment, she shook it off, then offered a real grin. “Thank you for passing along your partners. I truly haven’t enjoyed an evening so much in years. Maybe ever.”
They entered a less populated hall and followed the next rise of noise toward conversations in the refreshment room. There, tables were laden with beverages and bite-size things to nibble. The Vanfords’ annual ball was a showcase of elegance and exquisite taste all the way from the decorations to the delicate cakes nearly too beautiful to eat.
“Was there anyone noteworthy tonight? Someone you’d like to encourage?” Emma asked.
Adelaide took a cup of punch from the footman minding the table and sipped.
“You’re avoiding looking at me and haven’t answered the question.” Emma bit her bottom lip to contain her grin. “Did you like one of them? More than Lord Marshall…” She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. Over the last week, Adelaide had mentioned Mal’s friend more than once, and always in glowing terms.
The brunette rolled her eyes. “I haven’t seen Lord Marshall yet. And all those other men are your suitors. I can hardly poach one before you’ve given them adequate time to win you over.”
“I’m not in the market for a husband. And if I was, I’d only need one of them to stick. If I have extras, why not give you the chance to enchant one? Or two. Let them fight a duel over your favors and the last one standing gets your hand,” Emma joked, and took her own glass of punch from the footman, who appeared so stone-faced, she had to assume he was pretending he wasn’t listening to their exchange.
Adelaide blinked.
