to stand beside Licia. With his face flushed from the exertions of the dance and his eyes sparkling from whatever cause, he looked rather less melancholy than usual. He stood for several minutes before he said, “Miss Dudley, may I ask you a question?”
“Of course.”
“I . . . that is . . . do you think . . . confound it!” He swallowed and tried again. “I’m wanting to ask you: Do you think Miss Dezzie might . . . might welcome my suit?”
Licia took pity on the boy. “I think she might.”
He grabbed her hand and pumped it with great exuberance. “Oh, Miss Dudley. Thank you! You’ve made me so happy!”
“I only said might,” she reminded him. “And do not let on to Mama yet.”
“Yes, yes. Thank you.”
Watching him go, Licia sighed. They would have a hard time of it. Mama was determined that Dezzie land the duke. And she didn’t care in the least that the duke had no wish to be landed.
“So,” Ravenworth said, coming up behind her. “What was that all about?”
“What?”
“I saw my nephew beaming at you. And pumping your arm like—”
“Oh, he wanted to know if I thought Dezzie liked him.”
“Just as I suspected. The boy is head over heels in love.”
She waited for him to say more, but he remained silent. Finally, unable to restrain her curiosity, she inquired. “And what is your feeling on the matter?”
He smiled. “I think they suit each other.”
This statement rather took her back. “You mean, you aren’t against their marrying?”
“Of course not. The boy’s been into his melancholy state far too long. With your sister around he couldn’t possibly stay melancholy.”
Licia absorbed this. “But I thought you were against the institution.”
He shook his head. “Not for others. Only for myself. You see, I think it takes a certain sort of person, like you and I, to be able to function alone.”
For some reason his compliment failed to make her feel pleasure. “But they’re so young. Aren’t you afraid they’ll run amuck?”
“Not really. Underneath the patina of fashion the boy’s really a sensible chap. I think they’ll do quite well together.” He frowned. “Of course, there’s your mama to be considered. I collect she’s aiming higher than a viscount.”
Licia sighed. “I’m afraid so.”
* * * *
The evening passed far too rapidly to suit her. Ravenworth seemed to take the duties of friendship quite seriously. He spent much of the evening by her side while they engaged in the most pleasant conversation. So it was with some surprise that she heard the clock strike such a late hour.
She was trying to cope with a strong sensation of regret that this lovely evening would soon be ending when from beside her the duke uttered an exclamation of dismay. “That mutton-headed boy will ruin it all!”
He grabbed her hand. “Come. We must be quick.”
“But we’ve already danced twice. We can’t—”
He swung her expertly into the procession and whispered, “We must. With luck, the gossips will fix on us instead of your sister and my unthinking nephew. This is the third time he’s danced with her.”
“Oh.” The prospect of becoming the topic of gossip was not at all to her liking, but there was Dezzie to think of. So she followed him through the steps, a false smile on her lips.
“People will not . . . ” she began when the figure of the dance brought them together again. This whole incident was most distressing to her. And trying to talk about it made her want to cry. But talk she must. She tried again. “I do not think people will believe that you have . . . fixed your interest on me.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Take a look at those dragons over there. See the one with the purple turban and the four ostrich feathers?”
She looked, and saw the wagging fans and sidelong glances. Perhaps he was right. And if the Duchess of Oldenburgh talked about the bed . . . “But they are looking at Dezzie too.”
“So they are. Hmm.”
Her mind
“Of course.”
“I . . . that is . . . do you think . . . confound it!” He swallowed and tried again. “I’m wanting to ask you: Do you think Miss Dezzie might . . . might welcome my suit?”
Licia took pity on the boy. “I think she might.”
He grabbed her hand and pumped it with great exuberance. “Oh, Miss Dudley. Thank you! You’ve made me so happy!”
“I only said might,” she reminded him. “And do not let on to Mama yet.”
“Yes, yes. Thank you.”
Watching him go, Licia sighed. They would have a hard time of it. Mama was determined that Dezzie land the duke. And she didn’t care in the least that the duke had no wish to be landed.
“So,” Ravenworth said, coming up behind her. “What was that all about?”
“What?”
“I saw my nephew beaming at you. And pumping your arm like—”
“Oh, he wanted to know if I thought Dezzie liked him.”
“Just as I suspected. The boy is head over heels in love.”
She waited for him to say more, but he remained silent. Finally, unable to restrain her curiosity, she inquired. “And what is your feeling on the matter?”
He smiled. “I think they suit each other.”
This statement rather took her back. “You mean, you aren’t against their marrying?”
“Of course not. The boy’s been into his melancholy state far too long. With your sister around he couldn’t possibly stay melancholy.”
Licia absorbed this. “But I thought you were against the institution.”
He shook his head. “Not for others. Only for myself. You see, I think it takes a certain sort of person, like you and I, to be able to function alone.”
For some reason his compliment failed to make her feel pleasure. “But they’re so young. Aren’t you afraid they’ll run amuck?”
“Not really. Underneath the patina of fashion the boy’s really a sensible chap. I think they’ll do quite well together.” He frowned. “Of course, there’s your mama to be considered. I collect she’s aiming higher than a viscount.”
Licia sighed. “I’m afraid so.”
* * * *
The evening passed far too rapidly to suit her. Ravenworth seemed to take the duties of friendship quite seriously. He spent much of the evening by her side while they engaged in the most pleasant conversation. So it was with some surprise that she heard the clock strike such a late hour.
She was trying to cope with a strong sensation of regret that this lovely evening would soon be ending when from beside her the duke uttered an exclamation of dismay. “That mutton-headed boy will ruin it all!”
He grabbed her hand. “Come. We must be quick.”
“But we’ve already danced twice. We can’t—”
He swung her expertly into the procession and whispered, “We must. With luck, the gossips will fix on us instead of your sister and my unthinking nephew. This is the third time he’s danced with her.”
“Oh.” The prospect of becoming the topic of gossip was not at all to her liking, but there was Dezzie to think of. So she followed him through the steps, a false smile on her lips.
“People will not . . . ” she began when the figure of the dance brought them together again. This whole incident was most distressing to her. And trying to talk about it made her want to cry. But talk she must. She tried again. “I do not think people will believe that you have . . . fixed your interest on me.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Take a look at those dragons over there. See the one with the purple turban and the four ostrich feathers?”
She looked, and saw the wagging fans and sidelong glances. Perhaps he was right. And if the Duchess of Oldenburgh talked about the bed . . . “But they are looking at Dezzie too.”
“So they are. Hmm.”
Her mind
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