Page 6 of King of Rogues
She gave a disinterested shrug. To her way of thinking dances like the quadrille, were boring. They lacked passion. Only a waltz would tempt her, and even then, it had to be with the right partner. The only man who held her interest was the same man who paid more attention to his drink than the entertainments which the party had on offer.
“I think I may have a touch of ennui. To be honest, dear brother, if you hadn’t badgered me into accompanying you this evening, I would have likely stayed at home,” she replied.
It was late July, and Naomi was just about at her wits end. The social season had seen her once more left on the shelf. Certain that they couldn’t ever give her what her heart desired, she had refused marriage suits from two perfectly suitable noblemen.
At six and twenty, she was in grave danger of becoming a set-in-stone, spinster, an ape leader. No other duke’s daughter of her generation remained unwed.
Her father and eldest brother had both assured her, she would never be compelled to marry. And while financial security was one thing Naomi didn’t have to worry about, she still hadn’t managed to overcome the problem of her aching need to be wanted. To have a man in her life who truly loved her.
I’ve half a mind to march up to Monsale and demand that he offers for me. I would make a wonderful birthday present. Something warm and willing for him to unwrap.
Harry leaned in and nudged her once more. “Come on Naomi, cheer up. Augustus and Evangeline are arriving from France later this week. You must be eagerly awaiting their wedding ball; I know Mama and Mrs. Jones are planning a party of special magnificence.”
Naomi forced a tight smile to her lips. The last thing she needed was to attend a function where love was being celebrated. And while she was happy for Gus and eager to meet his bride, she found it a struggle to dampen down her own disappointment.
She quietly admired Gus Jones’s grand gesture of love. Only a man who had lost his heart completely to a woman would give up his family, his country, and go to live with her in the ruins of an old château.
How romantic. Evangeline is a lucky girl. After all that Gus has been through, he deserves to be happy.
She was still lamenting her own lack of success with love when the orchestra struck up the opening strains of a waltz. Couples quickly gathered on the dance floor once more. Naomi’s pink-slipper clad feet itched to dance.
It was time to take a chance.
Nothing ventured, nothing gained.
She stepped away from her brother and came to stand in front of his friend. A scowling Monsale peered down at her from his lofty height. “Lady Naomi.”
It was a familiar game; one which they had played many times before. And all with the same outcome. She had always lost.
“Your grace. Would you be so kind as to indulge me with a turn or two around the dance floor?”
His brows furrowed in their all too familiar way. Anyone would think she was asking him to ride naked along Oxford Street such was the look of surprised distaste which appeared on his face.
“Dance?”
Naomi painted a smile on her lips. “Yes. That’s when people move about together in time to music. It’s really quite fun. I am sure you would enjoy it immensely if you would just try. I am quite accomplished when it comes to the waltz, so I promise we won’t look foolish.”
A duke’s daughter reduced to begging. What has the world come to?
The frown on his face deepened. “I don’t dance.”
And there it was, yet another rejection. Why did she even bother?
Because you are a silly girl who still lives in hope that he will one day see the love which shines for him in your heart. And that he will decide he cannot live without you.
Her bitter frustration spurred her on. “Didn’t you hear Harry as he extolled the virtues of wedded bliss not five minutes ago? You will never find a wife if you don’t socialize with the fairer sex. And if you don’t have a duchess, how is the McNeal family line to continue? You have a duty to make sure that the sixteenth Duke of Monsale is born, and the title passed on.”
Naomi cursed the tears which threatened. How many more times would she make a fool of herself over this man?
Monsale glanced down at the glass of brandy in his hand. “I am in no haste. When I eventually feel that it is necessary for me to take on a wife, I shall do something about it. Until then…”
He couldn’t even be bothered to give her a full answer. She wished nothing more than to punch Monsale. To knock some sense into him. To make him finally see that she was more than just Harry’s little sister. That in her heart of hearts she knew they were destined for one another.
She blinked back the tears, determined not to show him, or anyone else her pain.
I should not have come this evening. When am I ever going to learn that he doesn’t give a damn?
“If that’s the case then you should be relieved to know that women are not lining up, to become your duchess. Excuse me, your grace, I have better places to be this evening. Happy birthday, Monsale. Enjoy the rest of your night.”
