“You have to excuse me, Nicholas.”
Nicholas gave her a faux frown. “And what is so important that you have to leave your husband alone?”
Violet smiled, shaking her head. “Well, usually you know very well that you are my top priority, but this evening, I have decided to play matchmaker for someone very important.”
Nicholas raised an eyebrow in curiosity. “Matchmaker?”
“Yes,” she laughed. “My mother and I have discussed this at length in our letters, but I shall tell you about it all later. For now, I must go to my family.”
She embraced him quickly and headed straight over to her mother, Arabella—who looked as though she had been waiting for her daughter.
They exchanged a look—no need for words. It was already planned what they had come here for.
Soon after, Violet stood at the center of a small group of young, unmarried ladies, each of them watching her with mixture of admiration and curiosity. Arabella was by her side.
“Leopold is a wonderful dancer,” Violet said, putting on what she felt was her most convincing tone. “Though he may not admit it, he has a particular talent for the waltz.”
“Far too modest for his own good,” Arabella added, nodding conspiratorially. “He always says he despises these events, but I can assure you, once on the dance floor, he is entirely in his element.”
“Yes, yes,” Violet conceded quickly. “In fact, I’d be confident in saying that my brother is the life of any room that he steps into.”
Her little convincing act seemed to be working, at least at the outset. The young ladies exchanged glances, their faces lighting up at the thought.
A petite brunette ventured, “Your Grace, do you think he might enjoy dancing tonight?”
“Oh, I’m sure of it,” Violet said, her tone laced with just the right amount of mischief. “Though you may need to be a little… persistent.”
The young lady blushed, and the others giggled softly. Arabella smiled, clearly pleased with how well this match-making session was going.
“Leopold is a man of excellent taste,” Arabella continued. “He values kindness and intelligence above all else.”
“And a good sense of humor,” Violet added. “He claims he doesn’t, but believe me, he loves to laugh.”
The group erupted into hushed whispers and shy smiles, and Violet felt a swell of satisfaction.
Oh.
Her brother had finally arrived.
At the very least, this would teach Leopold to show up late to events such as these.
As if summoned by her thoughts, Leopold appeared at the edge of the room, his expression already teetering on exasperation. He moved toward their group, his dark hair slightly mussed from running his hand through it.
His gaze flickered from the group of ladies—who were now staring at him admiringly—to his sister, whom he could only glare at.
“Violet,” he said, his voice low but firm, “what are you doing?”
“Me?” Violet replied innocently, her smile widening. “I’m just having a conversation with some delightful young ladies.”
Arabella chimed in, “We were merely sharing what a fine gentleman you are, Leopold.”
Leopold’s eyes narrowed, and he leaned in slightly. “You’re embarrassing me.”
“Embarrassing you?” Violet echoed, feigning shock. “Whatever do you mean? I’m simply stating facts.”
The young ladies giggled again, and Leopold groaned softly. “I knew letting you marry into a title would inflate your sense of authority.”
“Oh, nonsense,” Arabella said. “We’re doing you a favor. Look how popular you’ve become tonight.”
