It wasn’t that she felt out of place. The duke was doing everything he could to shepherd her... buther, therealher, didn’t belong here. She would rather be home reading a book.
She was asked to dance by several gentlemen. Well, they asked her but they looked to the duke for approval. Char found that annoying. She wondered what they would do if she grabbed them by both ears and made them face her—
Her thoughts came to a halt.
The small hairs on her neck tingled with awareness. The false her that smiled politely and didn’t grab ears joined with her real personality and she becamepresent.Aware.
She knew he was here.
Glancing over her shoulder to the main doorway, she discovered her senses had not lied.
Whitridge appeared as handsome as his ducal brother in the black evening dress. His hair was still overlong. Considering how impeccably presented the duke was, Char could speculate that there must have been some mention during one of their conversations that Whitridge needed his hair cut.
She could also easily imagine him telling his twin he’d not submit to barber’s shears. He was that sort of man. He did as he wished, and she was jealous.
Someone was talking to her. A gentlewoman complimented her on the lovely braiding design on her dress. Char brought her mind to where it belonged. “Thank you,” she said, and smiled because that was all anyone really wanted her to do.
And then Whitridge was at the edge of the group surrounding them.
The duke saw him. “Jack, here are some people I wish you to meet.”
Jack. Jack Whitridge. Char liked the sound of his name. It was bold and self-assured, just as he was.
Whitridge worked his way through the knot of people around the duke. He took a moment to kiss his mother’s hand and to comment to Mr.Morris. He turned to his brother.
Baynton said, “The first person I wish you to meet is Lady Charlene Blanchard. My lady, this is my unredeemable twin.”
Everyone around them laughed at the duke’s jest. Whitridge smiled but it was quick, polite, as pat as her own responses were to their gossip and quips.
“It is a pleasure, my lord,” she said.
“My honor, my lady,” he answered. They could have been perfect strangers.
The conversation took up around them again.
Baynton leaned to speak in his twin’s ear. Whitridge nodded. The duke turned to her. “My lady, I must excuse myself for a moment. There is a group of gentlemen here who wish to discuss a matter of some importance. I will return to you as swiftly as possible. In the meantime, my brother will see to your needs.”
He was handing her over to Whitridge?
Part of Char was elated; another part was somewhat offended.
“I hope you do not mind?” the duke said, reaching for her hand and giving it a squeeze. “I will return in time to escort you to the supper room.”
“I don’t mind,” Char mumbled, and that was all she needed to say. Baynton clapped his brother on the shoulder as he started moving toward the door. Five or so of the other gentlemen in their group went with him.
The wives pouted. So did the dowager, since Mr.Morris had also left for their private discussion. She made an annoyed sound and then began talking to her friends around her.
Whitridge and Char were side by side.
He appeared to be a bit irked with the task his brother had assigned him, but she was pleased. Very pleased.
At last, someone she could talk to.
“You don’t have to be my minder,” she told him. “I can join Lady Baldwin.”
He knew exactly why she had said what she did. “Please do not think I am annoyed with you. I told my brother that if he was wise he needed to stay by your side. Apparently, he has decided I’m his placeholder.”
“You don’t need to be.”
