A Crime of Manners by Rosemary Stevens Page A

conscience smote him. He decided to dance with the girl and later put it about his remarks were meant as a jest. He failed to understand what the great fuss was about. Anyone could see she was attractive.
    Before he could respond to Colonel Colchester, that man spoke again. “I would have thought a man in your position would have a care about what he said in public.” Playing his ace, he stated, “It is your duty, Giles, to turn the situation around and bring the girl into fashion with the social power you hold.”
    “Doing it too brown, Colonel. I have already decided to do just that. Only, the next dance is about to begin. Allow me to partner the girl first, then you may join us when I return her to Lady Fuddlesby. In that way, we can all spend a few minutes in tedious social chatter ensuring the girl’s success.”
    The duke took himself off, and the colonel looked in frustration at his retreating back. Even though the rank of duke deserved respect, someone needed to take Giles down a peg, he decided.
    Over by the chaperons, Henrietta, engulfed in the familiar pain of rejection she often suffered at her parents’ hands, stared at the floor. This was a different kind of rejection, she decided, and made worse by its being public. She wondered if one could die of mortification.
    The Denbys’ ball was a sad crush. Lady Denby had packed in as many of the ton as possible. People were standing at the edges of the ballroom talking and gossiping. As everyone realized the duke was walking in the direction of Miss Lanford, the room grew quiet for a moment, then fans fluttered and the dreadful whispering began again.
    Henrietta asked herself what could have happened now and raised her head. The Duke of Winterton, looking heartbreakingly handsome, was making his way toward her.
    He will not approach me, she thought wildly. But as it became evident she was indeed his goal, she quickly looked down at her lap, her heart pounding so hard, she thought it might burst from her chest.
    At her side, Lady Fuddlesby saw salvation and whispered to her, “How good of him. He will set everything to rights.”
    Pain coursed through Henrietta anew, but now an intense surge of anger accompanied it. How dare he! How could he have the audacity to seek her out after what he said of her? Surely he knew what the consequences of his horrible words would be to her come-out. Why, the man had no more feeling than an old shoe!
    The duke was almost to Henrietta’s chair, his intention to speak with her obvious. Quiet descended on the gathering again as everyone waited in hushed expectancy.
    Suddenly Henrietta knew she could not bear to exchange a single word with the beastly man. Hands at her sides, she grasped the little gilt chair she was sitting on and with a jerking movement turned the chair pointedly, presenting him with an excellent view of her back.
    Sharply indrawn breaths and titters met her ears. Dimly she was aware of the duke turning and moving past her.
    Next to her, Lady Fuddlesby moaned, “Oh dear, oh dear,” and fanned herself vigorously.
    Across the room, Colonel Colchester raised a hand to cover a smile.
     

Chapter Four
     
    Impertinent baggage, the duke thought furiously, forgetting his part in the contretemps. This is what one got when one associated with persons of inferior rank.
    The duke walked past Miss Lanford and directly over to where Lady Clorinda Eden stood with her mama, Lady Mawbly.
    Lady Clorinda, a slight smile on her pink lips, looked positively enchanting in white satin. The bosom of her gown was cut down to the very limit of the amount of flesh she could show and remain a lady. She pointed at the duke with her breasts as he approached.
    The duke’s mood lightened at the vision of the creamy mounds before him. “Lady Mawbly, Lady Clorinda, you are looking exceptional this evening,” he said smoothly, directing his gaze at the daughter and certainly not at the puce-attired Lady Mawbly. “May I hope, Lady Clorinda,