softly. I don’t want Mama to suspect.”
The duke grimaced. “How can she not when you wear such a gown?”
Penelope tapped his arm with her fan. “You forget. Mama has no sense of fashion. One look at her should make that clear. And you know these dresses are now all the rage.”
“And quite the ugliest things I’ve seen in an age.”
“Quite so,” agreed Penelope cheerfully. “And now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to find the major and give him another good dose of married life. Perhaps that will be enough to discourage him altogether.”
Ravenworth laughed. “I rather expect so.”
Penelope was soon gone, and Ravenworth turned to Licia. “She’s a resourceful girl, Pen is.” The duke adjusted his cuffs. “She’ll manage to elude this one.” He turned his smile on Licia. “But tell me, how did you outwit your many suitors?”
He seemed determined to be kind to her. And she did not really mind answering his questions. It was always pleasant to talk to him. “It was very easy. I simply said no.”
“And your mama did not protest?”
“No. You see, she was not eager to have me marry.”
“Because that would leave everything upon her shoulders?”
She wanted to deny this, but she had never been good at lying. “Perhaps. It was a sad time—after Papa died. And for a while she needed someone to lean on. Truly I did not mind.”
“There were none of these suitors that took your fancy?”
“No. I did not find the institution of marriage particularly appealing. Nor any of the men who proposed it. So I simply stayed home with my family.”
“An admirable choice,” he said with warmth. “The institution should be avoided.”
“Perhaps.” She wondered that she should go on with him in this fashion, but perversity drove her to say, “I have nothing against the institution itself. But I should wish to enter it with the right man.”
A strange gleam came into his eyes. “And have you encountered such a man?”
Oh, dear. She felt the warmth flooding her limbs. How could she reply to such a question? But there he stood, waiting for an answer. “I . . . I am past the age of marrying.”
“But—”
“Ravenworth.” Lockwood appeared, tugging at the duke’s sleeve. Ravenworth did not look pleased to be thus interrupted, but he said, “Yes?”
“We need your help. Miss Dezzie wishes to try the new waltz. And the orchestra will not comply. P’rhaps if you’d speak to them . . . ”
Ravenworth fixed his nephew with a stern eye. “I have already spoken to them. And I assure you, they will not be playing a waltz.”
Lockwood shifted uncomfortably. “But—”
“No buts,” said the duke. “You know how Almack’s patronesses are. Do you want to ruin the girl’s chances altogether?”
“No, no. Course not.” Lockwood pulled nervously at his cravat. “I’ll tell her. I’ll ‘splain.” And he scurried off.
Ravenworth sighed. “The boy means well. He just doesn’t think.” He offered her his hand. “These affairs are abominably slow. Shall we dance again?”
As they traced the steps of the quadrille Licia tried to think sensibly. Aunt Hortense and Penelope had both cautioned Dezzie. She might dance two dances with the same gentleman but no more. Even two dances might mean the gentleman held her in high regard. And more than that . . . more than that just wasn’t done.
Of course, Ravenworth was not dancing with her because he held her in high regard. He was simply a kind and generous man. And he was looking out for Penelope’s country cousin. But in spite of this sensible and undoubtedly true fact, her pleasure in the duke’s company was quite untouched.
They finished the quadrille and stood again upon the sidelines, watching Lockwood and Dezzie tread a measure. As the two young people finished, Ravenworth said, “Excuse me. I believe this is my dance with your sister.”
As the duke dutifully led Dezzie through the maneuvers of the dance, young Lockwood came
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