Oh. Well, I suppose I can forgive him that.
Eleanor stood there, undecided about what to do next. Should she accept his roundabout apology? Engage him further? He was the most interesting person she had met so far tonight, besides Sarah. Perhaps she should talk to him despite her usual policy of avoiding conversation with men.
He shifted and shoved his hands in his pockets. “I hope none was taken,” he added.
She cleared her throat and stared down at the offending blot on the tablecloth. “Apology accepted. I cannot fault you for presuming I was making an attempt at humor, I suppose.”
The awkward silence between them resumed, amplified by the music and laughter from the dance floor and nearby tables. The man pursed his lips. Was he now annoyed with her? He gestured towards her table with a little reluctance. “Would you like to return to your drink alone? If my presence is unwanted…”
“I…” Eleanor hid behind her fan again, seeking a moment to recover her thoughts and decide on the appropriate response.
“Perhaps I ought to introduce myself,” he said.
She lowered her fan with a frown.
The man looked uncomfortable with the idea, but he continued anyway, “I am the Duke of Richmond.”
We are equals then. I should have been more polite towards him.
“It is wonderful to meet you, Your Grace. I am Lady Eleanor Reeves.”
The Duke smiled. “I am aware.”
Eleanor blushed again and stared down at her feet. “Yes, I suppose you are.”
“What are you doing out here alone, anyway, Lady Eleanor?” The Duke glanced about. “I would not have expected the daughter of the Duke of Fife to be without company.”
No one who knew her expected her to be without company at these parties. “I find most of the people here droll or too impressed with themselves for my fancy.”
“I see.” His response was smooth and warm. “I do hope I fall under neither category. Would you like to dance?”
Absolutely not!
She would have nothing to do with being courted or wooed, no matter how good-looking the Duke was. Nothing good could possibly come out of dancing with him, so she floundered about for any excuse to escape. “I am afraid the floor is too slippery for me, Your Grace. Perhaps another time?”
The Duke raised an eyebrow, and he looked as if he was about to respond.
Eleanor picked up her wine glass with a tight smile. “If you will excuse me, I just recalled I have to speak with one of the other ladies about something of vital importance.”
The disbelieving expression on his face told her he wasn’t buying her excuse, but he didn’t stop her as she turned on her heel and fled for the opposite side of the room. On her way around, Eleanor spotted Sarah laughing and talking to a handsome young man. The man seemed as enamored with her as she was with him.
There would be no extracting Sarah to return to some dark corner now, and Eleanor didn’t want to be around if the Duke decided to renew his request later in the evening.
Searching about, she located her chaperone and hastily joined the older woman. “Lady Devonshire, might we leave? I find myself quite thoroughly worn out.”
The woman stared down at Eleanor’s empty dance card and then glanced in the direction she’d come from. “What did His Grace want?”
“He was laughing at me for a small mishap,” Eleanor muttered. “Please, let us go.”
“Oh, very well.” Lady Devonshire made her excuses to the group of older women she’d been talking to and accompanied Eleanor out of the ballroom. “You shall have to answer to your father for that empty dance card, though, young lady.”
Better that than having to make more excuses to avoid dancing with the Duke or enduring more of the mindless inanities of the ton for the evening.
Eleanor climbed into their barouche with the help of the footman her father had sent along with them. She remained silent for the drive home, and Lady Devonshire made no attempt to encourage her to talk, thankfully.
The entire drive home, the only thing Eleanor could think of was the encounter with the Duke and the way his hazel eyes lit with good humor as if he were laughing with an old friend about some private joke. It was the one thing she desperately wanted not to think of, but no matter how she tried, she couldn’t get her mind off it. Eventually, she abandoned any effort to do so and let her mind go over the conversation they’d shared until she and her chaperone reached home.
When she arrived at home, Eleanor stopped by her father’s study before she went to her rooms to retire. William was in his study, as always, working on papers, his gray head bent low as he squinted at whatever he was writing. Eleanor smiled fondly and turned, intending not to disturb him.
