It wasnot done.
Which made it classic Cynthia Louise Finch.
“Who wants to go ice racing later?” she asked her friends at the refreshment table.
“Do you mean iceskating?” asked one.
“She means iceracing,” said another. “I lost ten quid to her last December.”
Miss Finch laughed in delight. “Want to lose another ten?”
Had the audacious hoyden failed to notice his receiving party of one?
He hoped she hadn’t glimpsed the Duke of Nottingvale ducking ignominiously into the closest shadow rather than greet Miss Cynthia Louise without the protective buffer of his sister at his side.
Bellewas the reason Miss Finch was here.
Belle had been bashful during her come-out. Her first season had not gone as planned. At the time, Miss Finch was on her sixth unsuccessful season. She’d been extraordinarily kind to Belle, and earned a lifelong friend in the process.
And by extension, an open invitation to Alexander’s famous Christmastide house parties. How he had railed against the suggestion!
Alexander had been certain Miss Finch would not get on with any of his guests.
He had been wrong.
She lived an hour away in Houville. Miss Finch visited Cressmouth so often, she’d been on a first-name basis with every soul in the village long before Alexander ever built his cottage.
She might have fizzled out of Polite Society after six years, but here in Cressmouth, she was celebrated like family.
He watched in horror.
Whilst her puppy was humping the leg to Alexander’s refreshment table, Miss Finch linked arms with her cousin, a terrified-looking waif of eighteen years, and began introducing the chit to everyone in sight.
No amount of shadow could save him now.
It was only a matter of time before Miss Finch started toward Alexander.
His muscles tightened. The last thing he needed at a party as important as this was a dare-devil spinster causing trouble.
Alexander was in search of an aristocratic young lady who would bring honor and continued decorum to the esteemed Nottingvale dukedom.
Miss Finch’s only connection to the aristocracy was an aunt who had married a second son, who decades later inherited an earldom. The waif at her side was the earl’s youngest daughter, Lady Gertrude, whose come-out had occurred scant months earlier.
Miss Finch’s come-out had been twelve long years ago. She’d had no dowry, no connections, and no luck. By society’s standards, now she was simplyold.
Yet it was difficult to think of Miss Finch as “on the shelf” when she never stood still.
Her brand of beauty was like a summer storm rising over the horizon. Fascinating to watch from a safe distance, but dangerous to go anywhere near.
And she was coming toward him.
“Thereyou are,” Miss Finch said as though Alexander had been hiding from her, which he absolutely had been. “Lady Gertrude, this is His Grace, the Duke of Nottingvale.”
Despite the obvious terror on her face, Lady Gertrude dipped in an exquisite curtsey.
Alexander made an extravagant leg in response. “How do you do?”
Lady Gertrude swung panicked eyes toward Miss Finch.
