A Duke for Lady Ellen

Chapter 5

Ellen had never seen Danbury wearing anything less than a smile on his face, and she did not care for how put out he appeared, his brow wrinkled, his lower lip pouting, as if someone had just filched his favorite toy. Why was he upset with her? The whole point of the Season's balls was to dance with as many gentlemen as one could, making connections and friends if possible, wasn't it? She did not begrudge the dances he shared with other ladies of the ton. Why was he upset? Surely he could not be...jealous...of the Earl? No, what a ridiculous notion.

"Your Grace," she murmured.

"I did not know you and Hambidge were acquainted."

"He is quite the lover of poetry," she said.

If anything, the Duke's frown deepened. "Is that what you were talking about? Because you had your heads together and appeared to be discussing something important."

"Poetry," she replied stiffly, as if he had insulted her, "is important to us both. But no-we were discussing something else."

The Duke waited for her to explain, but she did not elaborate. "I see," he said, turning his gaze from her to watch the crowd of dancers. From their vantage point, they could see Sophie twirling around the room with the Earl of Stacey, a short, balding man who nevertheless was known to be an excellent dancer, and a great favorite among the ladies. Sophie was having fun. Ellen only wished she were. The silence between them grew uncomfortable. The music tempo changed as a stately minuet began, and he moved his attention back to her. He tried smiling but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

"He's too old for you," Danbury said at last.

"I beg your pardon?" The fact that she herself believed the same thing was immaterial. Of course, a corner of her heart wondered how much that fact mattered. There was more to a man than his age, so what business was it of the Duke's to be so judgmental?

"He was married before."

"I know that."

"He has a daughter about the same age as you."

"I'm aware of that as well, Your Grace. What is your point?"

A smidgeon of pink tinged his high cheekbones. "I just think you could do better."

At that, Ellen could not keep the flash of annoyance out of her voice. "I'm sure you mean well"-her tone saying clearly the opposite-"but I don't see how it's your business." Ellen knew a woman in her third Season could ill afford to be as choosy about her prospects for a husband, and the Duke should know better than to belittle any member of the peerage-especially to a woman of said limited prospects. After all the Earl of Hambidge was a good, decent man, who spoke well, was interested in the same things Ellen was, and...and they were friends. She would not tolerate anyone casting aspersions at the Earl.

The Duke had the grace to look ashamed of himself. "Forgive me, I overstepped."

"Yes, you did, Your Grace. Now, if you'll excuse me, it's the supper dance, and the Viscount of Hemley has asked me to accompany him. The Viscount, a man nearly as tall and broad as the Duke, approached where they were standing.

Danbury sighed, looking for all the world as if he were going to protest, but of course he had promised to dance the supper dance with Sophie, so he searched the crowd, and Sophie waved at them.

"We're still on for our waltz, are we not?" he asked, as the Viscount patiently held out his hand to Ellen.

"The last dance of the night is yours, as promised."