The Duke had moved into the crowd, the young woman—Octavia—still at his side. They were speaking with a group of village elders, and Joan found she couldn’t look away from the picture they made together. They looked matched. Suited to each other in a way that made Joan’s chest ache with something she refused to name as jealousy.
She was watching them when Octavia suddenly detached herself from the group and began making her way across the hall, directly toward Joan and Victoria.
Joan straightened, pasting on a polite smile as the young woman approached. But then Octavia’s foot caught on something, and she stumbled. The wine glass in her hand tipped precariously, spilling a few drops that landed dangerously close to Joan’s crimson skirts.
“Oh!” Octavia’s hands flew to her mouth. “Oh, I’m so terribly sorry! I’m so clumsy sometimes. I do hope I haven’t ruined your lovely dress!”
“It’s quite all right,” Joan assured her quickly. “No harm done.”
“You’re certain?” Octavia looked distressed. “I would feel awful if?—”
“Truly, it’s fine,” Victoria added with a warm smile.
“Thank goodness. I would hate to make a terrible first impression.” She dipped into a graceful curtsy. “I’m Octavia St. Vincent. I don’t believe we’ve been introduced?”
“Joan Sinclair,” Joan replied, curtsying in return. “And this is my sister, Victoria.”
“Sinclair,” Octavia repeated thoughtfully. “I don’t believe I’ve seen you in the village before. Are you new to the area?”
“Yes,” Victoria answered. “We only recently arrived.”
“How lovely!” Octavia’s smile was bright and seemingly genuine. “I do hope you’ll find the community welcoming. Everyone here is quite wonderful once you get to know them.”
She leaned in conspiratorially. “I should tell you—my brother Hugo is currently unattached. He’s the Duke of Ravenvale, you know. Terribly handsome and quite charming, if I do say so myself. And I’m engaged to be married soon, which means he’ll be all alone. I worry about him, truly I do.”
She gestured vaguely toward where Hugo stood speaking with the local physician. “Either of you would make an excellent match for him. He needs someone sensible and kind, and you both seem to fit that description perfectly.”
The air grew awkward. Joan’s mind raced.She’s engaged? But to whom? Is it Laurence?
Before Joan could formulate a response, two figures approached from behind Octavia—the Duke himself, with Hugo at his side.
Octavia immediately brightened and turned toward them. She moved to the Duke’s side, her hand reaching out to rest on his arm in a gesture that seemed both familiar and possessive.
“Laurence!” she said warmly. “I was just telling these two lovely ladies that they would make wonderful matches for Hugo.”
She gestured toward Joan and Victoria. “May I present Miss Joan Sinclair and Miss Victoria Sinclair? Ladies, this is theDuke of Ashcroft, and my brother, Hugo St. Vincent, Duke of Ravenvale.”
Hugo’s eyes swept over both sisters with obvious appreciation, and his smile was warm and genuine. “Miss Sinclair, Miss Victoria. You both look absolutely stunning this evening.”
“You’re too kind, Your Grace,” Joan murmured.
Hugo turned to Joan specifically, his expression openly admiring. “Would you do me the honor of a dance, Miss Sinclair?”
He extended his hand toward her.
“Oh, you must!” Octavia encouraged. “Hugo is an excellent dancer. You’ll have a wonderful time.”
Joan opened her mouth to accept—it would have been rude to refuse—but before she could speak, another hand appeared in her line of vision.
Larger than Hugo’s. Scarred across the knuckles.
“I believe,” the Duke said, his voice cutting through the moment with quiet authority, “that Miss Sinclair is promised to me for the first dance.”
His fingers closed around hers before Joan could respond. “I did personally invite her, after all. It would be remiss of me not to claim the first dance.”
He pulled her gently but firmly away from the group, toward the dance floor where other couples were already assembling.
Behind them, Joan heard Victoria’s delighted giggle, barely suppressed.
