Page 8 of A Chance to Dance with the Duke
“Then to the library. My visitors and I would like some privacy.”
And for just one hour to pass without having to discuss the dratted Duke. But, of course, even after Charlie ran off, the Duke still remained.
Jane’s eyes were wide. “Did the Duke really call upon you at your home, Meg?”
Meg’s smile was tight. “He did.”
“And you…” Jane blinked a few times, as if dazed. “You told him you were not at home for visitors.”
Meg’s cheeks began to heat beneath their scrutiny. “I did not tell him anything. That would rather defeat the point.” At their continued stare, she smoothed her skirts, and muttered, “But yes, I had the housekeeper inform him I was…not well.”
And in her defense, she hadn’t been. Oh, she was not ill, by any means, but if it was possible to die of mortification, then she’d been very close to death indeed.
Wasn’t that the same as being on one’s sickbed?
The logic seemed sound to her mind.
It was why she’d lied to her mother, saying she was unfit to attend the Garners’ dinner party the other night.
Her mother hadn’t believed her, if her look of pity was anything to go by. Even her father agreed that her presence would only stir up more gossip.Best to let the laughter die out, he’d said.Lord knows we don’t need Meg causing any more damage to our good name.
She’d tried not to wince at the not-so-subtle reminder that she was once again a disappointment to them.
But in the end, they’d let her stay home from the ball.
Like a coward.
No, it wasn’t cowardly to stay out of sight. It was sensible. Her chin came up, and she was fully ready to defend the cowardly move, but Jane was staring at her with nothing short of awe. Ann’s smile was full of understanding. And not even brave Felicity seemed disdainful of her cowardice. Her dark, sharply arched brows were drawn together in thought. “You did well to avoid him, Meg.”
Meg blinked. “I did?”
“Of course.” Felicity’s thoughtfulness morphed into anger in a heartbeat. “That callous cad should not be forgiven so easily for his crimes.”
“His…c-crimes?” Ann might have stuttered, but Meg knew it wasn’t because she was frightened of Felicity’s ire. More like, amused by it.
Felicity’s quick temper was endearing, especially when it was on one of their behalfs. Which…it typically was. As the least diffident member of their group, she’d cast herself as their protector at some point.
It was rather nice to have someone sticking up for them. Even if it was just to rail against good society from where they sat on the outskirts.
Jane’s eyes were wide as she considered Felicity. “The Duke’s…crimes?”
Meg burst out laughing. She couldn’t help it. “I think perhaps ‘crimes’ is taking it too far, Felicity.”
Felicity let out a noise that sounded a bit like a harrumph as she crossed her arms and fell onto the settee beside Meg. “I’d always heard that the Carver men were pompous and cruel, but I’d thought?—”
“I did too,” Ann hurried to say.
Jane nodded. “He always seems so…charming.”
Meg’s smile faded to a smirk. “He does, does he not?”
“But we’ve only ever seen him at a distance,” Ann pointed out. Pragmatic as ever.
“That’s true,” Felicity said. “We were all duped by his good manners.” To Meg, she added, “No one could blame you for not suspecting the worst.”
They sat in silence for a moment, and Meg knew they were all back in the ballroom, replaying that horrid moment when His Grace had approached their table and asked her to dance.
“I’m sorry, Meg.” Felicity muttered it so softly, Meg nearly missed it.
