“I have criteria.”
Margaret laughed softly.
“You have been out officially for but half an hour.”
“That is ample time to know what I do and do not want, I rather think.”
A gentleman approached then, bowing with eager politeness. He addressed Poppy first. Margaret stepped slightly aside, watching her sister accept the invitation with careful dignity. Poppy glanced once at Margaret before being led away, her smile impossible to contain. Margaret felt a swell of affection.
Then she looked toward the entrance again. Still nothing. She told herself he would arrive when it suited him. A duke was rarely punctual in the manner of lesser men, after all. The thought did not comfort her as much as it should have. Emily appeared at her side without announcement.
“You are scanning the doorway still,” Emily said quietly. “It is evident.”
“I am observing arrivals.”
“You have been observing arrivals for several minutes.”
Margaret did not deny it.
“He will come,” Emily said.
“I did not suggest he would not.”
Emily’s expression shifted, something restrained beneath it. A new set began, and couples arranged themselves along the floor. Margaret watched without registering the figures. She was supposed to be among them, and yet there she was on the outskirts as though nothing had changed at all.
“He is delayed,” Emily said. “That is all.”
“Possibly.”
Suddenly, Margaret’s attention shifted as the entrance stirred with fresh arrivals. A ripple of recognition passed through the nearest guests, and conversation altered in tone. She did not need to be told.
Hehad entered.
His Grace stood just within the threshold, dressed in deep evening black that rendered him almost severe against the candlelight. He paused long enough to exchange greetings with their host before his gaze lifted. It found her with unsettling ease. Emily followed the direction of her stare.
“There,” she said. “You need never have worried.”
“I did not!”
“You appear relieved.”
“I am not.”
Emily did not respond to that, but she did laugh softly at it. She watched as the Duke began his slow progress across the room, intercepted twice before he could advance further.
“He moves as though he owns the floor,” Emily murmured.
“He does,” Margaret replied before she could stop herself.
Emily’s brow lifted slightly. Margaret steadied her posture. She could not look eager. At last, His Grace freed himself from the last interruption and approached. He bowed first to Emily, then to Margaret.
“Miss Emily. Miss Fairleigh.”
“Your Grace,” Margaret replied.
“You are late,” Emily said plainly.
“I am aware.”
