“And the lady in the green gown,” Evelyn added, “is Lady Thornbury. She is known for her sharp tongue, so be careful around her.”
Marianne squeezed her hand. “Do not let them frighten you. Most people here are perfectly pleasant. And we will not leave your side.”
The reassurance helped, and Frances felt some of her tension ease. Perhaps this would not be so terrible, after all. Her cousins’ kindness was becoming an anchor through the evening, and Marianne’s gentle presence especially made her feel safe.
After a few dances had passed, Evelyn rose. “Come, Frances. I think it is time we introduced you to a few gentlemen. The quadrille is next, and it is one of the easier dances.”
Frances stood up, smoothing her gown nervously. She followed her cousins across the room and soon found herself being introduced to a pleasant young man named Mr. Tinseling, who seemed quite eager to dance with her.
The quadrille went better than she had expected. Mr. Tinseling was patient and helped guide her through the steps when she faltered. By the end, she was almost enjoying herself.
“You did wonderfully,” Marianne praised when she returned. “See? It is not so frightening.”
Frances smiled, feeling a small swell of pride. Perhaps she could do this, after all.
“I think I need some air,” she said after another dance. “Is there a terrace or a gallery where I might catch my breath?”
“Of course,” Charlotte replied. “Just through those doors there. We shall wait for you here.”
Frances made her way through the crowd, slipping out of the ballroom and into a quieter corridor. She found herself in a gallery lined with portraits and lit by softer candlelight. The cool air was a relief after the stuffiness of the ballroom, and she took a deep breath, trying to settle her nerves.
She was examining one of the portraits when she heard footsteps behind her. She glanced over her shoulder and saw an impeccably dressed gentleman walking over to the banister overlooking the ballroom. A second man joined him, and the two stood together, chuckling.
Curious, she took a step closer but hid herself behind a column.
“I see the ladies are playing at sophistication as usual?” a deep voice remarked. It was the first man. He was tall, dark-haired, and carried an air of arrogance she was accustomed to from nobles.
“Most of them, yes. I’m surprised to see you here, Your Grace. You do not usually mingle with this crowd.” The other man, blond and a little shorter, turned to him.
“I do not, but I am not here of my own volition. I was forced. I am playing the part I must. I already danced with the terribly vapid and common girls.”
“Common girls? Here? I hardly think so. Lady Farside would never.”
The Duke chuckled. “Perhaps not common as in untitled, but their behavior sure leaves something to be desired. It is so vexing the way these women throw themselves at any bachelor who looks their way. It is provincial, the sort of thing one expects in Bedfordshire, not London.”
At the sound of her home being disparaged, Frances inhaled sharply.
“I assure you, women from Bedfordshire are just as educated and sophisticated as those from London. However, I must say the gentlemen in Bedfordshire are far less rude. You will never hear one mistake cynicism for wit or insult ladies.”
Heat flooded her cheeks, but it was not embarrassment. It was anger. How dare this insufferable man make such assumptions?
He spun around and stared at her. “I do beg your pardon if I insulted your home, as clearly you are born and bred in Bedfordshire.”
“Meaning what?” she demanded, putting her hands on her hips.
The blond man patted the Duke on the shoulder and departed with a cheery “I shall leave you to this.”
The Duke ignored him. “Meaning that it is provincial to address a man one does not know at a ball or on any occasion. We have not been introduced, after all. Are you new to town?”
“That is of no consequence. What is of consequence is that lofty dukes ought not to speak so out of turn. It is wrong. Only fools make assumptions about people they do not know.”
“Are you calling me a fool?” he scoffed, crossing his arms.
“If the shoe fits,” she replied, mirroring his stance.
His eyebrows rose, clearly not expecting the retort.
For a moment, they simply stared at each other, the air between them crackling with tension. Then, without another word, he gave her a curt nod and walked past her, disappearing down the corridor.
