Chapter Nine
Lady Frescot’s ball was in full swing at almost two in the morning when Percy arrived. He scanned the gathering from the upper bowers, raising an eyebrow at the small crowd of people surrounding his ward, mostly young bucks. How fickle they were, though he could full well understand what had drawn them to her inner flame. Tonight, she was dressed in a lower-waisted rosebud silk gown with a daringly low neckline. It bared her shoulders and had three rows of lace alternating with gauze ribbon edging the hem.
She wore tiny pearl earrings that matched the three strings of pearls around her neck. Her short hair had been curled and framed her face most enchantingly. Percy had always known Freddie to be pretty, but she robbed him of breath. Her dark blue eyes shone with intelligence and laughter. Her mouth held that half curved smile which hinted that she was secretly amused with the world. With her flushed cheeks and bright eyes, Freddie appeared remarkably pretty. She was also so sensually formed his teeth ached. Several young bucks took second and third looks, and even Viscount Crawford stared at her with slackened jaw from his corner of the room.
“Earlier when she stepped into the ballroom, several young bucks did second and even triple takes,” the Duke of Hartford said as he came up to stand beside Percy.
“I supposed she has danced all the dances?”
“She has refused everyone,” Sebastian said with a rueful laugh.
Percy snapped his gaze to the duke. “Is she not disappointing my efforts? Are you certain she was asked?”
The duchess came up to her husband and caught that question.
“Lord Wolverton,” she greeted, inclining her head.
He bowed. “Your Grace.”
She gave him a brilliant, smug smile when he straightened. “I daresay Frederica has refused no less than six dances. Those young bucks do not quite know what to do with themselves and perhaps cannot accept that she should not be grateful for their attention.”
He should have known Freddie would not have let them forget their earlier slight. Unless she was waiting to dance with the buffoon who had yet to notice her. She hoped when he did, his Freddie made him suffer. That thought filled Percy with too much satisfaction.
The Duchess continued, “Whether to be this elusive was a part of her plan or not, it has increased Frederica’s allure, and I believe after tonight, no one would dare refer to your ward as a wallflower.”
The duke and the duchess went below stairs and took to the dancefloor themselves. They made a beautiful couple, and the love they stared at each other with filled him with an unexpected surge of longing. That longing had him searching for Frederica once more, only to find her looking at him.
A tender smile curved her mouth, and she glanced away to look at the young man approaching her. It was the young Viscount Thurgood, whom she had once dropped her handkerchief before. The man bowed over her hand before attempting to kiss it. Percy almost choked when she ungraciously withdrew her hand before his kiss could reach her gloves. The viscount recovered rather well and clearly asked for her hand in a dance. Even from where Percy stood, he saw the red that mottled his face. The man’s shoulders stiffened; he spun sharply on his heels and melted away in the crowd. Clearly, he had anticipated success where lesser men had failed.
Percy chuckled.
“An unforgiving young lady,” Lord Crawford said, coming up to him. “I do not think it does her credit. Ladies are to be soft and understanding.”
Percy snagged a glass of champagne from a passing footman. “What do you mean?”
“Come, man, everyone knows that she dopped a handkerchief before the viscount. He certainly thought it proper to mention several times.”
“I am heartened that Miss Williams has claws. Not every situation calls for soft understanding,” Percy said drily.
“Well, I suppose a man of your notoriety would be proud. Now she has publicly brushed him off and reclaimed her reputation.”
“You mistake the matter,” Percy said icily, “Miss Williams’ reputation was never lost, and if little boys find it necessary to discuss a dropped handkerchief with others…now I understand her amusement when she told the tale.”
Lord Crawford flushed and tugged at his cravat. “I meant no insult, Wolverton. I merely wanted to indicate that I would like to repay my addresses to Miss Williams.”
“That was the problem,” Percy said, taking a sip of the champagne. “You never paid any addresses to her. You paid them to me.”
“You are her guardian,” the viscount said, all astonished.
“I am, but after I gave you permission to court her, you never once asked her to dance or sent her flowers.”
“I hardly think such frivolity necessary,” he returned stiffly. “If you do believe it would improve my chances, I will, of course, act appropriately.”
Percy looked at the man through new eyes. How had he once thought the viscount the right balance to her vivacity, wit, intelligence, and light? The man would bore her within seconds, and this damn fool would try and cage her effervescent spirit. “I do believe should you call upon her at my home, I might shoot you, Lord Crawford.”
He walked away uncaringly. The man spluttered as if he choked. Percy went down the stairs and over to Frederica. She looked uncommonly bored, and he noticed those around her were not her usual friends. Relief lit in her eyes when she saw him.
“If you will excuse me, ladies and gentlemen, I have come to claim my dance with Miss Williams.”