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Lady Margaret Haddington whirled around, suddenly not at all interested in the conversation with another society matron that she had up until a moment ago been so vivaciously engaged in. “Who is dancing with whom, child?”

“The Duke, mother! Dancing with Charlotte!”

“Nonsense, that cannot be true!” She shook her head insistently, but her blonde hair, firmly pinned up in a complicated arrangement that had taken her maid nearly an hour to complete, did not move at all with the motion.

“I am not blind,” Alison said pettishly. “Look over there, and you will see it with your own eyes.”

“Upon my word, you are right,” Lady Margaret said, her voice lowering in disbelief. “I cannot fathom it. What can he be thinking?” She paused for a moment. Alison could almost hear the cogs ticking in her mother’s mind. “Ah, perhaps he doesn’t know?”

“Know what, Mama?”

The viscountess huffed. “Well, he has been away for such a long time, dealing with his father’s affairs, poor man,” she said, her eyes fixed on Charlotte and the Duke as they made their way along the dance. “Perhaps he has forgotten, or he simply does not know how very odd those two sisters are, how odd their mother was. Perhaps he does not quite understand their position in society, that they do not fit in, that they are not like the rest of us.”

“But surely everyone knows! It cannot be that he has not heard stories about the first Lady Haddington and her strange ways. It is common knowledge in the ton that she was an oddity who refused to conform, despite the great elevation of her marriage.” Alison parroted the story she had heard her mother tell so many times, both in private and sometimes in company, when her stepfather was not around.

“Well, we must make sure that he is reminded of it somehow,” Lady Margaret muttered darkly. “Come, Alison, let us go and get some punch, and then when this dance finishes, we shall be close to where they will leave the dancefloor. And then we can divert the Duke’s attention away from that wretched girl and in the direction where it should rightfully lie.” Lady Margaret looked at her daughter with a look of smug satisfaction.

Alison nodded, returning her mother’s sly smile with one of her own. She knew she looked much more attractive and appropriately dressed than either of her sisters. It has never been spoken out loud between herself and her mother, but their strategy was clear. Charlotte and Martha’s frocks were truly frightful; Alison was astonished that they had managed to persuade either of them to leave the house, looking as dreadful as they did. She would never be seen in public in such monstrosities. But they were both such strange girls. Perhaps they didn’t even realize how ridiculous they looked. Or mayhap their mother had never taught them any better before she departed this life. And yet, surely, Charlotte and Martha could not have failed to notice the stares and the giggles as they entered the ballroom this evening.

She looked down at her own frock, a becoming shade of lavender that she knew suited her olive complexion well. Yes, she looked much prettier than the two of them put together. But what on earth had possessed the Duke to dance with Charlotte? It was most vexing.

She positioned herself next to her mother on the edge of the dancefloor and watched as the dance moved through its various stages. “She does dance rather well, Mother,” she observed through gritted teeth. And she could not help but notice that Charlotte and the Duke were in animated conversation wherever the dance permitted them to speak to one another.

“What can they be talking about?” Lady Margaret speculated, taking a gulp of punch.

Alison said nothing for a moment. A wave of panic suddenly took her over. It couldn’t be that the Duke was interested in her stepsister, despite her obvious strangeness and inability to fit into the society of the ton. They knew so little of man, having seen scarcely anything of him in society for these past few years. He had been away studying and then traveling abroad in his youth, then the death of his father had taken him to London for a long time. The people of the ton had hardly since him since he was a young man, home from school for the holidays. Perhaps he himself had adopted some strange ways while he was away. These things did happen when young noblemen spent too long away from their homes and families.

“You don’t think they are forming an attachment, do you, Mother?” Alison asked, a lump forming in her throat as she said the words out loud.

Her mother let out a bark of laughter. “No, indeed! I never heard such a ridiculous thing!”

But as Alison watched Charlotte and the Duke, turning about at the end of the dance and making their way back along the middle, hand in hand, smiling at one another, she felt something in her heart drop. If her stepsister were to secure the Duke, then she and her mother would no doubt fall out of favor with Lord Haddington, her stepfather. And then what would become of them?

She stood up straighter and took a deep breath. The dance was drawing to a close. Now was her moment to impress the Duke. She had to show that she was better than her stepsisters; more beautiful, more charming, more worthy of his attention. Everything depended on her impressing him with.

CHAPTERSIX

Charlotte tried to keep her composure as she made her way through the dance with the Duke. But she felt as if every eye in the ballroom was upon her, and despite her best efforts, it was hard not to feel intimidated by the stares.

She knew what they would all be thinking. Why was a man such as the Duke dancing with her? And it was the question she had been asking herself for the last few minutes, too, since he had asked her to dance with him.

The harshest glares were coming from her stepmother and stepsister. Lady Margaret would be simply furious that the Duke had chosen to dance with her instead of with Alison. It was Alison’s first season, and this ball was a great opportunity for her to make herself known to the eligible gentlemen of the ton. Lady Margaret would not be pleased that her own daughter was standing on the sidelines watching while Charlotte danced with one of the most important men in the room.

And how he danced! He shot Charlotte a smile as he turned her about in a twirl, his feet executing the steps perfectly. For someone who insisted that he did not enjoy dancing at balls, he was making a good show of it.

“Are you enjoying the dance, Miss Hervey?” he asked as they stood side by side, watching another couple making their way down the middle of the dance and waiting for their next turn to move.

“Indeed,” she replied, and it was true. She was enjoying it, despite the impertinent stares of those around her. Perhaps even because of the stares. She could not help but admit that she enjoyed causing so much annoyance to her stepmother and stepsister.

But as they moved off into the next round of the dance, her eyes fell again on Lord Harry. It seemed like he and Miss Thomas were the only people in the room who were not looking at her. And that was because they seemed to have eyes only for each other. She felt a pang in her heart as she saw them together, Lord Harry’s mother looking on fondly from a short distance away, where she stood with Lady Thomas. She could only imagine the thoughts going through that lady’s head at this moment, the pure delight she would be feeling that her son was showing an interest in a more suitable lady than herself.

“Miss Hervey, try not to look at them,” the Duke whispered at the next opportunity. “He will notice by and by, I promise, and then you will see that our plan has worked.”

She gave him a weak smile. “Thank you, Your Grace.” She did not know what else to say, but she felt no such confidence that their ruse would be successful.

At that moment, though, Lord Harry turned away from Miss Thomas and headed towards the table where the punch was being served, and he saw Charlotte on the dance floor for the first time. Their eyes met, and Charlotte felt for a moment as if time was standing still. This would be the moment that he would show some hint that the sight of her dancing with another man affected him in some way.

But he held her gaze for just a second, his face devoid of emotion, then turned away and took two glasses of punch from the table. He was not thinking of her, only of Miss Thomas and her need for refreshment.