Page 31 of If the Slipper Fits
A feminine voice rose from the crowd of bystanders. “How are the pairs to be chosen?”
Lady Fenton held up two woven baskets, filled with scraps of white parchment.
Here it came. The dreaded name-drawn-from-a-hat pairing.
Lady Fenton’s answer rang out. “The names of each person present have been written on a—”
Lady Wentworth’s booming voice cut her off. “Nonsense, Lady Claudine. Such a process is far too time-consuming.”
“Er…It is?” Lady Fenton asked, her exuberance dimmed.
“Of course. Instead, every lady shall turn to her right—” Lady Wentworth’s skirts swished as she angled her body toward Caden “—and touch the arm of the first man she sees.” She tapped his forearm. “That man will be her partner.”
After a moment of silence, the sounds of scuffling boots and slippers, feminine giggles and raucous male laughter filled the room as people shuffled hither and yon, seeking to accidentally-on-purpose sequester his or herself with a preferred partner.
Caden considered the elderly woman whose gloved fingertips rested lightly on his sleeve. He could fare worse, and damned if he didn’t like the old—how had Harrison phrased it?—she-dragon. He might learn a useful thing or two about her companion, to boot.
From the corner of his eye, he spotted Hardasher, heading straight for Anna. He gritted his teeth as everything in him railed against the notion of Anna paired with the man.
“And you, Mrs. Jones, shall stand in my stead.” Lady Wentworth, sounding decidedly pleased with herself, took Anna’s gloved hand and slapped it on Caden’s arm where hers had rested a moment before .
“But—” Anna began.
Hardasher stalled in his tracks, his responseechoing hers. “But—”
Caden clapped his free hand over Anna’s so fast, he surprised even himself. “Sorry old chap. The lady has spoken.” He bared his teeth at Hardasher.
Hardasher’s lips compressed into a thin line. “See here,” he began, but a glance in Lady Wentworth’s direction, evidently, caused him to rethink his objection. He broke off, sent Anna and Lady Wentworth an ingratiating smile, then said, “At least grant me the favor of an introduction, Thurgood.”
“Yes, indeed, Mr. Thurgood, do introduce us to your game partner,” came a woman’s plaintiff voice.
Miss Applegate, Miss Egerton and Harrison had opted to join them.
“Hullo,” Harrison said with a finger waggle. “The girls insisted we make our way over.” The apologetic look he gave Caden said he knew they weren’t exactly welcome.
Caden returned an affable grin, not the least bothered by their arrival for some odd reason.
“Harrison,” Lady Wentworth said with a nod of acknowledgment. The others, along with the requests for introductions, she ignored. “I need a word with the Lady Claudine before I retire to my chambers. Anna, I leave you in Mr. Thurgood’s capable hands.” Nose aloft, she swept away.
Anna stared after her, a look of longing in her eyes. Damn but the woman vexed him.
“Well, Mr. Thurgood?” one of the misses prodded.
Caden frowned, unsure of what she expected from him.
Harrison cleared-up the matter. “But the two of you met the infamous Mrs. Jones yesterday, if you’ll recall. The woman of the hour? She who rescued Thurgood at the lake?”
Lady Applegate narrowed her eyes, studying Anna as if considering her for purchase at auction. “Oh, yes, Lady Wentworth’s companion.” She spoke the last word as if it left a sour taste in her mouth.
Irritation pricked him. What unspeakable rudeness. For a split second he considered calling the woman out. Gentlemanly restraint won out, however. Lambasting her would accomplish nothing other than to assuage his own temper. He doubted Jones would thank him, in any case. He opted to take a page from Lady Wentworth’s book. He ignored her.
“Lord Hardasher, may I introduce my game partner, Mrs. Anna Jones?”
Only then did he notice the regal, head thrown back Anna was gone. The downcast, face-hidden Anna took her place.
“A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Jones.” Hardasher grasped her hand and bent over it.
“Lord Hardasher,” Anna murmured, tucking her chin even further and dipping an elegant curtsey.
