Page 5 of A Deal for the Duke’s Virgin

After another lengthy pause, he heaved a sigh.

“Join the rest of the party in the ballroom,” he ordered tersely. “You have exactly two minutes, or I shall have the servants comb this room and drag you out in front of all our guests. And if you remain hidden and miss your recital, I shall have the library door locked and your books taken from you for the foreseeable future.”

He didn’t wait for a response and stormed out of the room.

Thalia waited a few more minutes, until she was entirely sure he had gone, then eased herself out of her hiding place, destroying the rest of the spider’s cobweb as she did so. The spider waved its front legs. She imagined that it was shaking its fists at her.

Tendrils of cobweb and dust clung to her dress, and she cursed herself, brushing it off as best she could. The dress was one that Jonathan had bought for her, and she privately thought that it made her look like a fluffy mint meringue. Green did look very good on her, but the endless flounces and ruffles on the skirt resembled nothing so much as a heavily decorated cake.

A curl had come loose, hanging down to tickle her neck, and she angrily tucked it back.

I haven’t bought myself very much time. Jonathan really will lock the library door if I don’t obey. He’s done it before. At least I managed to avoid speaking to Mr. Pembroke.

She was fairly sure that she could hide some of her books from him, but that wasn’t the point. She would have to leave her safe place. There was nothing for it.

One more month, she reminded herself, fingers curling into tight fists. Only one more month, and then I am free. Free to do what I like, free to help St. Sarah’s, free to read and write and never attend a ball again.

One more month.

But for now, she would have to obey her brother.

As a last touch, Thalia took off her spectacles, brushing the dust from them. Squaring her shoulders and steeling herself, she strode out of the library and down the hall that led to the ballroom.

Heat, light, and noise washed over her as she entered. The ballroom was lit up with countless candles, a chandelier throwing sparkling light on the guests. People milled everywhere, talking incessantly, laughing about nothing, and sipping punch. Red velvet chairs were set out in front of a low platform where the performers would show their talents. Jonathan had planned it all, making sure that there were no other pretty young women to compete with her on the stage.

It hardly mattered, in her opinion. No man married a woman simply because she yowled and yammered out a song on a low platform. There were plenty of pretty women in the audience.

Besides, she did not want to marry.

One more month.

As she slipped gingerly through the room, she spotted her brother making his way to the platform. He would have some dull speech prepared, and then he would invite her to the stage to start the performances. She found a corner and tucked herself into it, waiting.

Other guests passed by, barely sparing her a second look. Some of the faces she recognized, but most she did not. They would be Jonathan’s friends or people he wished would become his friends.

Several of the ladies seemed to be whispering together, more and more gathering into a little group in the corner. They shot quick, excited looks at something. No, someone.

Frowning, Thalia followed their gazes. She recognized the man at once. At least, she recognized him from the pictures she had seen of him. Some ladies used to carry miniatures of his likeness in their gloves, taking them out and giggling over them in private with their friends.

Thalia had not been introduced to him, of course. She imagined that very few respectable ladies had been introduced to the Duke of Thornhill, the most notorious rake of the ton.

He stood with a couple of friends, a remarkably beautiful young woman with a hand on her belly, arm in arm with a gentleman who must be her husband. He glanced around with a blank face, as if bored with everything.

Why did he come? Jonathan always invites him to our parties because it would be a great thing to have a duke attend. But he never comes. Why is today different?

He turned, and now she could get a better look at his features.

Well, the miniatures had not done him justice. He had strong features, heavy dark eyebrows, and impossibly thick black hair waving back from his forehead. His mouth was set in a grim line, and somehow it seemed impossible for his face to ever relax into a smile. Large, black-lashed hazel eyes peered out at the world, a spot of warmth in an otherwise unforgiving face. He was not yet nine-and-twenty, she’d heard, but he seemed simultaneously older and younger.

As she watched, a pair of young women floated by, staring up at him with the sort of trepidation one might inspect a lion newly released from its cage. When his gaze landed on them, one girl muffled a squeak and charged away through the crowd, dragging her unfortunate friend behind her.

The corner of the Duke’s mouth twitched. Was that a smile? No, not a proper one.

He towered above most men in the crowd. She bit back a smile of her own as a dandy stalked past him in his heeled shoes, the top of his head barely level with the Duke’s chin. The dandy threw him an enraged look and seemed to rise on his toes to seem larger.

The Duke did not even favor him with a glance.

Then his gaze raked the crowd in her direction. Despite knowing that he could not see her and would certainly not care to look at her if he did, Thalia found herself shrinking back. Her heart pounded, blood thrumming in her ears, and anxiety of all things coiled in her gut.