“Violet told me.”
“You stay away from her.”
Duke smirked. “Oh, the way you stayed away from Clem?” He shook his head. “Don’t worry, Lady Violet Musgrave has about as much interest in me as I do her.”
Roman lifted an eyebrow.
“She’s a beautiful and charming woman.” Duke leaned forward. “And far too much like myself. Can you imagine two of me in some sort of affair?”
“I’d rather not.”
Duke grinned. “Precisely. Now get out of my office before I kick you out.”
“I’d like to see you try,” Roman muttered but left nonetheless.
He paused in the entrance way and let a group of women, carrying what appeared to be more parasols than necessary, pass by. He still wasn’t convinced. Could he really make a future with a Musgrave of all people? Would Clementine even forgive him? He wasn’t certain he could stand spending the rest of his days this miserable and before the discovery of the letter, he was certain they would be perfect together.
Was he going to let a mere slip of paper change that?
He grimaced. Duke was right about one thing—he might not be a complete fool like his father had said, but he’d certainly behaved enough like one recently.
Chapter Twenty-Six
“Lily, you have a little something...” Ivy gestured to the bodice of her twin sister’s gown and Clem peered at the spot.
“Ink?” Clem asked.
Lily rolled her eyes. “I should not be allowed to wear nice things. I always ruin them.”
Violet rose onto her tiptoes to peer over the heads of the many people ahead of them slowly filing into the assembly hall—the first proper ball of the Bath Season was proving to be popular. “It’s too late to turn back. We’re in the thick of the crowd now.”
Clem glanced at the marbled tiles underfoot. She should never have agreed to come. Violet had it on good authority from Duke that Roman intended to propose tonight. Not to her, obviously. To Miss Fisher.
She pressed a hand to her belly. The very thought made her sick to her stomach. She was too late.
She drew up her chin and forced a smile when Violet murmured something about the decor. The only reason she had agreed to attend was to put on a brave face for her sisters. She didn’t need Roman, she had told them. After all, she probably wasn’t made for marriage anyway.
Or perhaps she just wasn’t made for marriage to just any man. If she had her chance again, she’d marry Roman in a heartbeat. She could not even summon a single doubt any longer. Being without him was utter misery.
The four of them shuffled into the ballroom and followed their parents to a suitable spot between two stands of white and pink flowers, near a comfortable chair for Papa to install himself on and not too far from the table of punch for Mama.
Clem wrapped her arms about herself and tried not to search the room for Roman. No good would come of seeing him with Miss Fisher. She wished Mama did not still enjoy a ball. It would be much easier if the family had decided not just to flee to Bath but to become complete recluses. No one could get their heartbroken in the country surrounded by cows and sheep, surely?
Her throat tightened at the sight of a tall, dark-haired man then her heart sank when he turned. Not nearly handsome enough and most certainly far too happy to be Roman. Though Miss Fisher might make him happy for all she knew. They might well be perfect together. Perfectly dull, but that was what Roman wanted. Maybe she would even try to be happy for them.
Maybe she would hope perfect Miss Fisher tripped over the hem of her gown on their wedding day and fall face first into the punch...
Mama came to her side and curled an arm about Clem’s waist, drawing her close. “Be sure to dance, darling. Violet already is.”
Clem blinked and looked toward the dance floor to see her sister had already been scooped up for the first dance. Despite the scandal surrounding them, Violet could always be counted upon to attract attention from the opposite sex. Everyone had expected Violet would wed swiftly upon her debut and even with their escape from London, that sense had clearly lingered. However, Violet was a romantic soul at heart, even if she never admitted it. She needed someone utterly devoted to her and too many of these men never noticed that.
“I do not feel much like dancing, Mama,” Clem admitted. “I shall likely escape to the supper room.”
“You have been out of sorts all week.” She squeezed Clem closer. “Do not linger on your heartbreak for too long. It shall do you no good.”
“How do you know I’m heartbroken?”
“Oh, my darling, it is written all over your face.” Her mother gave a loud laugh. “Even your father noticed.”