Page 60 of Her Beast of a Duke
Oscar cared little for ballroom politics.
“Indeed,” he intoned. “I do recall you beingveryamused. My ears continue to ring with your laughter and… colorful comments.”
“Heavens, Mama, are you terrorizing Isabella and her husband again?”
The new voice had Oscar on edge, turning to face the Duke and Duchess of Branmere, Hermia and Charles, Isabella’s sister- and brother-in-law. He looked at the Duke, nodding once, receiving the same in return.
“I think we ought to say nothing and see which man speaks first,” Hermia giggled, looking between the two of them.
Charles’s head whipped around so he could scowl at his wife, but there was no denying the slight smile that grew on his face.
Outfitted in a blue gown that resembled the deepest part of the sea, Hermia looked beautiful, and it was clear to see why the Duke kept sparing glances around the ballroom, just as Oscar had. The comparison of himself and the established couple had Oscar shift uncomfortably.
“I believe Charles will always speak first, if not to gain authority,” Isabella laughed, and Oscar was surprised at her comfort with using his given name. “My husband enjoys his silence, doing his talking for him, so to speak. He believes it is powerful.”
Oscar’s eyes narrowed on his wife, his head tilting to the side, both amused and irritated at being understood so much and so vocally.
Behind the Wicklebys, Sibyl stepped forward. Her hair was braided around her head and decorated with tiny pearls. Immediately, both Hermia and Isabella went to her, taking up arms at their sister’s side.
There was something about the sight of the three of them, standing together like a force against their parents, that made Oscar see Isabella in a different light for a moment. She was not just his wife, but he could truly see her as an older sister to Sibyl, a younger one to Hermia, somebody who had both guided and been guided.
He turned his face away just as a smile almost formed.
“I do believe Lord Alexander is present tonight,” Hermia said. “I have been told you were seen dancing with him at a previous ball.”
“Oh, I believe I can agree to this,” Isabella answered. “I saw the two of you together at Lord Harcross’s ball, going toward the dance floor. The two of you were rather red-faced, laughing. It lookedmostcozy.”
“Is he blond?” Hermia asked, and Oscar was amused by the girlish gossiping that Isabella seemed to enjoy with her sisters.
“Indeed,” Isabella said, as though they were conspiring to set up their younger sister.
“Could this be him walking toward us?”
Sibyl turned to look, and hope lit in her eyes as she confirmed this was the Lord Alexander her sisters teased her about.
As soon as he approached, enquiring about being saved a dance, a couple of other lords tentatively approached, their eyes flickering over the two dukes. Oscar wondered if they thought the two of them stood protectively over Sibyl.
Discreetly, he did shift closer to the young lady but said nothing. After a moment, Charles did the same, and the two of them glanced at one another.
“Lord Bennington,” Sibyl was saying to one dark-haired man, “I have already refused your dance at the last ball. Please do not ask me again.”
Oscar tensed, ready to fight for Sibyl if any trouble occurred, or the man proved to be anything like Lord Peregrine, but the gentleman only sighed, backing away.
“Sibyl,” Lady Wickleby scolded. “You ought to be more pleasant to the lords if you wish to reject them. I do not think you are entirely in a position to reject anybody, but for heaven’s sake, at least do it politely. Hasn’t Isabella demonstrated enough? I recall her rejecting several suitors, for she was quite inundated with offers.Once.”
The slight had Oscar tensing, forcing himself not to glare at Lady Wickleby.
“Mama,” Isabella sighed, shaking her head, “if Sibyl has already tried to reject Lord Bennington once, then why does he deserve such pleasantness? He clearly has not listened. Perhaps a stronger approach will finally get through to him? Sibyl does not have to be like me, nor Hermia.”
She turned to Sibyl, taking her hand. “Take your time, sister,” Isabella continued. “There is no rush, and what Mama is failing to mention is that youdohave time to take. Simply look at Hermia and me.”
“Heavens, donot,” Lady Wickleby complained. “I cannot go through any of that again.”
Together, the two older sisters only rolled their eyes, dismissing their mother’s complaints. It was interesting for Oscar to see what got under Isabella’s skin and what she let simply go over her head. The times she prickled the most were when her mother insulted somebody she cared about deeply.
Yet that would suggest she cared about him, for she had defended him in the drawing room during that disastrous visit.
He filed that consideration away, averting his gaze from the family as more couples filed onto the dance floor in time for a waltz to begin.
