“Oh, is it Lady Grey and her family?” Modesty asked at once and then began to self-consciously iron out the wrinkles in her gown. “I have been waiting for them. They’ve traveled all this way just to attend this ball.”
“You best greet them now,” Emma replied. “I just saw them walk in and ask for you a few moments ago.”
“Dear Lord, you should have told me sooner.”
Modesty scurried away quickly to attend to her guests.
“Are you doing all right?” Emma asked, now that their mother was gone. “Are you upset that Lady Joanna is not by your side?”
“Heavens, no.” The words slipped out of his mouth before he had a chance to stop them. Horrified at himself, he cleared his throat quickly. “I meant that she is in the retiring room, fixing her powder. She should be back soon.”
“Oh, right. Have you seen Deborah tonight by any chance?” Emma’s words were calculated, as though she was trying to see something by mentioning Deborah’s name. “I believe she was headed towards the dance floor, last I caught a glimpse of her.”
The Duke’s head snapped over to the dance floor, his eyes searching for a familiar mop of brown hair. But his curiosity soon changed into a look of annoyance as he finally spotted her dancing together with the same man she had been with yesterday.
“Oh, there she is with Lord Macaulay now.” Emma smiled, not taking her eyes off her brother.
“And what might be his relation to her?” Henry scowled, failing to maintain his strict poker face.
“He is a friend of Peter’s and has expressed interest in marrying Deborah,” Emma replied.
The Duke now focused on this strange man’s face, which was unremarkable in every way but somehow filled him with rage.
“And what other information do you have on him?” Henry demanded.
“I am afraid that Peter is more appropriate for this kind of conversation. I only know that he does not possess an important title but is well off enough to take care of Deborah if she goes forward with the marriage.”
“He seems to be more in need of dancing lessons rather than a title,” the Duke remarked, noticing how Lord Macaulay kept stumbling as he danced together with Deborah.
Emma laughed. “Deborah seems quite graceful in comparison to him, but Peter seems to believe that he is a good man.”
The Duke looked back at the duo and felt himself seething as Deborah laughed at something Lord Macaulay had said.
What could he possibly say that is so funny? He doesn’t even look as though he can string together a coherent sentence, let alone a humorous one.
“They look quite happy together,” Emma added.
She would be happier with me.
The thought surprised Henry, and the realization that despite his best attempts to dodge it, he had been struck by cupid’s arrow.
With the wrong person.
As he watched Deborah close her dance with the other man, he realized he was, indeed, in love with her. All his life, he had prided himself on the fact that he did not get jealous. But seeing Deborah with someone else evoked a strong jealousy, and he felt almost angry at her for making him experience this.
Lost in his thoughts, he had not even noticed that Peter had now joined in on their conversation. To his displeasure, Emma had not yet moved on from the topic of Lord Macaulay and was now discussing him with her betrothed.
“Yes, she agreed to give him a chance. I was surprised, as she has never expressed an interest like this in anyone before,” Peter explained. “Perhaps we should be expecting wedding bells to ring once again sometime soon.”
The words twisted in the Duke’s stomach like a dagger, and he found himself turning green with envy.
He thought back to what Deborah had told him about not wanting to pursue marriage. Had she really changed her mind this time? For someone as unremarkable as Lord Macaulay.
What does she even see in him?
“Deborah!” Peter called out to his sister now that the dance had ended. “Come here.”
CHAPTERNINETEEN
