Page 30 of A Bluestocking for the Wicked Duke
“I can never make a bride of that chit. She has no form of feminine hubris. She’s too simple,” William said.
Lord James had turned and was walking to their curricle. William followed him.
“So the Duchess is chasing the wind in hope that something can come up,” Lord James said.
“I did speak to her as if I had designed for us to meet at the ball but that was because of what mother had said. I have no interest in the damsel,” William said.
Lord James had driven the curricle beside William.
“Get in, we are late.” Lord James shouted to his friend.
William got in and shook his head. He had just finished speaking to Esther and he couldn’t keep his mind off his dance with Joane. He feared that he was too infatuated; he would be caught in his own trap.
I cannot allow that happen. I have to build a relationship with Esther Wembley.
He had to use his mother’s forwardness to his advantage. He could use the Earl’s daughter to take his mind off the Duke’s daughter.
Chapter 9
A Man of Class and Good Conduct
Joane rubbed her forehead, squeezing the skin between her thumb and index finger. She had loved the dance with William and that was leaving her confused. A man doesn’t take a blow to his honour with such amiability especially not a man with different facets like William. He seemed too nice for someone that had just lost a duel especially someone of his standing and given the underhanded tactics her father used in gaining an advantage.
He didn’t look like he knew what father did.
It didn’t matter. He was too calm with her. He hid his emotions well behind that handsome face.
He truly is handsome.
She liked the way he didn’t smile so much. It looked like he needed something genuinely humourous to get a smile out of him. His height was just how she liked it despite the fact that she was four inches away from six feet. He knew how to hold a woman during a dance, guiding her to match his every step. When he brought her close, Joane felt the air around them still. It was electric. She smiled when she remembered how both of them had snubbed the partner exchange during the dance; they both didn’t want to leave each other.
“What are you thinking about that is making you grin so much?” Emma asked Joane, dragging her out of her reminisce.
Joane answered her, smiling before she spoke.
“The dance, I was thinking about my dance with Mr. William,” Joane replied her.
Emma turned up her mouth with playful scorn.
“You just met the man today, don’t be so gullible,” Emma said.
Joane turned to look at Emma; there was a shadow of anger in her eyes.
“I liked the dance, is it a crime to like a dance?” Joane asked her.
Emma shook her head, the wisps of her blonde hair vibrating side to side.
“A woman does not like a dance Joane, a woman likes the person she danced with,” Emma answered.
Joane turned away from her friend. She looked through the slot and saw the driver holding the reins with his black cap slightly off the center of his head. She and Emma were in the cabin and he couldn’t hear but Joane still watched him for any signs that he did.
“Have you forgotten that your father almost killed this man? And he used underhanded methods too,” Emma said.
Her voice had risen up a pitch, which happened when she was agitated about something. Joane looked at her again.
She is more worried about this than I am.
“Why are you so worried?” Joane asked her.
