“Mama, you did that before,” she reminded her softly, not wishing to make her mother feel downcast. “And those poor gentlemen did ask me to dance, but they looked as if they had been given the most awful dose of cod liver oil.”
“Yes,” her mama allowed with a sigh of recollection. “We are in a bit of a predicament, aren’t we?”
“Indeed, we are,” she agreed, swallowing back a wave of concern as she eyed the towering entry doors, hoping to spy the duke. She couldn’t stop the thought tumbling past her lips. “Lou’s beauty would have caught—”
“Yes, your sister is beautiful,” her mother cut in quickly. “There is no denying it, but you are attractive. My darling girl, if you would but enjoy yourself more and perhaps not lecture the gentlemen on justice for the fox. Whilst I agree with you, it is most intimidating, your lecturing tone.”
Intimidating, was she? She couldn’t help but be a trifle pleased. Except the truth was it was causing her trouble.
Louise had never had such a problem. No, her blonde, bouncing curls and blue eyes had seemed to make it clear she would be amenable to whatever a gentleman had to say.
Louise even knew how to swoon.
Even though she didn’tactuallyswoon.
Jack was fairly certain that if she did attempt to swoon, no one would catch her, and she’d bang her head on the floor. Therefore, she’d never made the attempt.
Besides, she’d look an absolute cake doing it.
She ground her teeth, eyeing the dancers. All she wished to do was retreat into a salon and find a pianoforte and begin to play upon it. Hopefully a room far enough away that it wouldn’t contradict the orchestra’s sugary notes.
After all, the sweeping notes of the minuet did not go well with the brooding notes of Beethoven’s “Moonlight Sonata.”
She far preferred to play Beethoven than to dance about to a silly tune written by Bach. Bach was well and good, and she admired his abilities greatly, but he lacked the soul of Beethoven.
Her mother let out a sigh so fierce it blew her artfully arranged curls about her face.
She eyed her mother and pondered whether she should say something reassuring, but then she teased gently, “Mama, you too have an expression that will not induce a young man to come to us. You look a veritable firebrand.”
“If only your brother would arrive,” her mother lamented. “And then perhaps he might ask you to dance.”
“My brother asking me to dance will not induce any eligible gentleman to do so,” she said as cheerfully as she could, even as the very thought of taking the floor with any of her brothers caused her to scowl. “It will only affirm that no one wishes to dance with me.”
“My dear girl, you are a woman of parts who is capable of so much,” her mother loyally insisted with a surprising dose of passion. “If they could see that, if you could but show them that somehow in company, you would be the jewel of the season.”
Jack frowned.
She had no idea how to go about showing her inner self to company. Besides, she was fairly convinced her inner self was not at all what gentlemen were looking for and would in fact send them running for the garden.
No, her inner self was one who would challenge a duke and leap through his window.
And, well, she didn’t think that that was really what most gentlemen were looking for.
At that particular moment, as she was thinking about the duke’s window, she spotted him across the room.
She was not the only one.
In fact, the entire room seemed to spot him at once.
The crush swung as one in his general direction.
He stood in the elaborately framed entryway, amidst burgundy curtains and gilded wainscoting. His name was called out.
Everyone seemed transfixed.
She understood why.
Well over six feet tall, he dominated the room with a single look. The Duke of Stone stood in his perfectly tailored black cutaway coat. His ivory-colored waistcoat clung to his broad chest. The gold buttons shone in the glow of the candelabra as did the emerald stick pin perfectly placed in his cream-colored cravat. His chiseled cheeks seemed sharper than ever.