Page 13 of A Deal for the Duke’s Virgin

She tugged her hand out of his, mumbled something incoherent, and darted past him and into the ballroom.

After the cool solitude of the balcony, the heat of the ballroom was almost unbearable.

People pressed in around Thalia from all sides, laughing directly in her ear, elbowing her in the sides, and generally jostling her around as if she were not there at all.

One man leveled his quizzing glass and exclaimed, “I say! That’s the opera singing girl!”

She shuddered, pushing past him. Her blood pounded in her ears, giving her no rest.

Have I really just done that? Did I ask the Duke of Thornhill to marry me? Well, to pretend to be engaged to me, at any rate.

She blinked repeatedly and even pinched her arm but did not seem to wake up. It was all real, then. She really had done it.

And he had agreed. She supposed he would have to agree if he wanted her help to find Laura.

That was something else that sparked her concern. Where had Laura gone? Why did she leave in such a hurry? And why did she not tell Thalia? They told each other everything.

Or so she’d thought.

Well, it didn’t matter. If Laura was keeping a secret, she must have a good reason. For while the Duke did not seem to be a particularly good brother, he was certainly a protective one. It did appear that he truly cared about his sister. He wanted her to be safe, and Thalia found that she believed him. He would let her carry out whatever quest had dragged her away from home.

At last, she stumbled out of the pressing crowd and heaved a sigh of relief. Already, sweat had begun to bead on her forehead and at the back of her neck. Hastily, Thalia wiped it away. Ladies were not meant to sweat, after all. Ladies glowed or something nonsensical like that.

This lady certainly sweats. And these undergarments are beginning to pinch, she thought sourly.

As willowy beauties dominated Society, other, stockier women seemed to be lacing their stays tighter and tighter in order to achieve a narrow waist. Her new dresses seemed to expect that she would be using one of these tightly laced garments.

She allowed herself a moment to breathe, considering her next move. She could return to the library, or perhaps…

“There you are,” snapped a furious voice at her elbow. A hand seized her wrist, making her squeak.

It was, of course, Jonathan, glowering down at her. He leaned forward, putting his face close to hers.

“If you sneak off once more for the remainder of the evening, I promise you that I shall burn every book in the library in front of you,” he hissed. “I have had quite enough of being embarrassed by my sister; I can promise you that.”

She swallowed. “Let go of me, Jonathan. You’re hurting me.”

He pointedly released her wrist and threw a quick, apprehensive smile at the man standing behind him. “Here she is, Mr. Pembroke. My sister was simply taking the air, you see.”

Mr. Pembroke looked about fifty and had not aged particularly well. He was mostly bald, except for a few sprays of brownish-gray hair sprouting out around his ears and at the back of his head which he insisted on growing long and combing over his bald dome. Thalia wondered why none of his friends had taken him aside and firmly told him to shave off all his hair and be done with it.

Aside from the hair issue, he seemed to be a reasonably ordinary man with a bland, uninteresting face. He was said to be worth a fortune and made tens of thousands of pounds a year. He had yet to produce an heir, which was doubtless why he was so keen to remarry.

Mr. Pembroke gave a disinterested grunt.

“You will dance with Mr. Pembroke, Thalia,” Jonathan instructed firmly.

Swallowing, Thalia leaned towards him. “Jonathan, please. I do not care for Mr. Pembroke, and I am fairly sure he is mostly indifferent to me. I daresay he is only thinking of marrying a marquess’s sister. We have nothing to say to each other.”

“Well, that hardly matters,” Jonathan responded primly. “Love grows after marriage, as everybody knows. You’ll have things in common.”

“Such as what?”

He missed a beat. “How should I know?”

“Because I am your sister, and he is the man you want me to marry. You should know both of us a little bit.”

He narrowed his eyes. “I’m thoroughly sick of your insolence. Look what I found in the library.”