The Marriage Lesson by Victoria Alexander

hadn’t had a glimpse of the girl she might have been. “It’s the waltz I’m concerned with. I am not overly familiar with it. If you ask my nieces, they will tell you I am older than the earth beneath my feet and will swear to you my own days in London were spent when Elizabeth was queen. There was no waltz then. They will further inform you the earth itself will shake should I so much as crack a smile.”
    “And will it?” Thomas grinned.
    “Yes.” Lady Dragon stepped away and seated herself at the pianoforte. “I will play and you may begin with Lady Rebecca.”
    “Becky,” the youngest said under her breath.
    “Lady”—Thomas bit back a smile—“Becky.” He swept a polished bow, indulging in the satisfaction of knowing it was every bit as good as Sabatier’s. Perhaps better. “Will you honor me with this dance?”
“Of course, my lord.” Becky bobbed a curtsy, smiled and placed her hand on his arm.
    He escorted her out onto the floor and took her in his arms. For a few moments they circled the room in silence.
    He glanced at Becky and smiled. “I believe your aunt has underestimated you.”
    She looked up at him. “Do you?”
    “Monsieur Sabatier has taught you well.” Reluctantly, he acknowledged a touch of gratitude for the Frenchman’s skill. If Thomas didn’t have to pay constant attention to leading her through the steps, he could concentrate on much more important matters. “So tell me, my dear, are you looking forward to the season?”
     
    “He really is a fine figure of a man.” Jocelyn squinted at the dancers. She couldn’t see well past a distance of about ten feet but vehemently refused to even consider wearing spectacles.
    “Indeed he is.” Marianne nodded. “Still, there is the problem of his character to consider. He is arrogant and quite annoying.”
    Jocelyn slanted her a suspicious look. “That’s the second time today you’ve made such a comment. I find it difficult to believe you are simply making assumptions based on nothing more than his lack of attention to us. You’ve never been one to leap to misguided conclusions. Come, now, Marianne, what do you know about the man that we don’t?”
    Marianne sighed. “I simply had the opportunity to chat with him for a few minutes last night in the library.”
“Did you?” Jocelyn raised a brow. “How very interesting. Almost as interesting as the fact that you would keep such a rendezvous secret.”
    “It wasn’t exactly a secret. And it certainly wasn’t a rendezvous.” Marianne shrugged as if the encounter meant nothing. “I simply didn’t think it merited mention.”
    Jocelyn snorted in disbelief. “You didn’t think a late-night rendezvous—”
    “A chance meeting.”
    “—with the heir to a dukedom, no less, was worth mentioning?” Jocelyn shook her head. “I don’t believe you for a moment.”
    “Nonetheless, it’s true.”
    “Um-hm.” Jocelyn studied her curiously. “So what did he do to annoy you so?”
    He refused to kiss me again. Marianne ignored the thought that was every bit as irritating as the man himself. And ignored as well how very much she enjoyed that kiss. “For one thing, he seems to be taking his responsibilities toward us as guardian or protector or whatever he is entirely too seriously. I daresay between him and Aunt Louella none of us will be able to so much as breathe without notice. For another, he is not at all happy to have us here—”
    Jocelyn laughed. “That’s scarcely surprising.”
    “And he has a plan to rid himself of us.”
    “What?” Jocelyn scoffed. “Does he plan to bash us over the head and bury us all in the garden?”
    “Worse,” Marianne said grimly. “He plans to find us all husbands.”
    “The beast.” Jocelyn paused and her brow furrowed. “Perhaps I’ve missed a significant point, but what is so terrible about that? Given his wealth, position and family, the man knows everyone who is anyone. Why, with his help we can all make