Selina’s eyes landed on Daisy, who was surrounded by laughing friends.
“That upstart girl – which Daisy is not – has made my brother deliriously happy,” she said stiffly. “If I did not already love her for her own sake, I would love her for that.” She whirled around to look Malcolm in the eye. “You are half right. I have worked extremely hard. To ensure that Daisy and my brother are known as the finest hosts in London. If you imagine I had selfish motives, I am afraid you do not understand me at all.”
“I wouldn’t call it selfish to desire recognition for your hard-earned skills,” said Malcolm. His eyes, a steely blue, ran appraisingly over every inch of the lavishly decorated ballroom. Selina waited for him to pass judgement, unafraid.
Everything was perfect. She had made sure of it.
But Malcolm’s gaze returned unexpectedly to her, subjecting her face to the same calculating assessment. Selina could understand why so many women had swooned beneath those attentive eyes. There were depths to them that reminded her of the ocean. She was quite sure that Malcolm was as shallow as they came, but when she met his eyes, she almost doubted it.
“You would make the most wonderful duchess,” he said. “And you know it. Don’t you?”
Selina gave a delicate shrug. “If women could inherit dukedoms, my cousin Cecily would be duchess today. Not me.”
He grinned, all trace of seriousness abandoned. “Caversham has an opening, you know.”
“Caversham has an incumbent duke.”
Malcolm pursed his lips, feigning disappointment. “And he’s not to your taste?”
“He’s a powerful man. And I know about powerful men.” Selina turned away, finding something disquieting in the intensity of his gaze. “They don’t appreciate women with independent minds.”
Malcolm shrugged and took another swig of champagne. “I’m not in the business of matchmaking. But you are wasted here, Selina. With the right man beside you, you’d be a force to be reckoned with. You could make anything happen – anything you wanted.”
She inclined her head, gracious enough to acknowledge a compliment even when it was not to her taste. “I hope that a woman with all my good fortune does not need to marry to make a difference in the world. I am taking the example of my Aunt Ursula. She never married, and she has not suffered for it. I will never want for money, and, with any luck, I will never want for influence, either.” A real smile, warm and mischievous, found its way to her lips. “I’m afraid that, when it comes to the position of my husband, no dukes need apply.”
Malcolm raised his glass to toast the sentiment. “I’ll spread the word at the House of Lords.” He drained the glass and set it aside. “Good evening, Lady Selina. I hope you enjoy the ball as much as you deserve to.”
Selina permitted herself a small sigh of relief as Malcolm departed to try his luck with whichever lady crossed his path next. The dancers were taking their places for the cotillion, and she went to find a good place to watch them, careful to make sure she was on the opposite side of the room from him.
If there was one man on earth Selina could not stand, it was the Duke of Caversham.
2
“You’re in a glum mood,” remarked Lord Louis Reynholm, digging his elbow into Malcolm’s ribcage. “Cheer up and ask someone to dance, why don’t you?”
Malcolm rubbed his side and shot Louis a black look. Louis was the younger son of a minor noble and had decided to make up for his lack of status by becoming a champion in the boxing ring. He was built like an ox and often forgot his strength. “I’ll dance when I’m ready to dance.”
“Come now, Caversham! You could have your pick of any of these lovely ladies. What is there to frown about?”
Malcolm sighed. As far as he could tell, Louis had never suffered a single disappointment in his life. He had been a ray of constant sunshine since their days at Eton. Cheerful in all circumstances and affable to a fault.
“It’s that new ambassador,” Malcolm growled, jerking his head towards the guest of honour.
“What, has he stolen a conquest from under your nose?” Louis let out a boom of laughter that startled a nearby countess. “Courage, Caversham! The pain will cease.”
“I am not competing with the ambassador for dance partners. I meant to talk with him about some serious matters regarding our foreign policy.” Malcolm straightened his shoulders and shot the oblivious ambassador a look of pure poison. “And the arrogant devil gave me the brush-off.”
“Really?” Louis cared as much about politics as a horse cared about learning to fly, but Malcolm knew he supported all his friends without question. “Surely he can’t have meant it!”
“Oh, he meant it, all right.” Malcolm rubbed his jaw, which was clenching tight as a vice. “’The Duke of Caversham?’, he said, looking me up and down as if I was a prize pig in a farmer’s market. ‘Oh yes, I’ve heard about you!’ And he laughed, and I pretended to laugh, and that was it.”
“Perhaps he meant it kindly?”
“He meant to tell me that he doesn’t consider me half as important as the Duke of Loxwell,” said Malcolm grimly. “Loxwell’s his dear friend now, and Loxwell will be taking the lead on our diplomatic relations with Austria. Aided, no doubt, by his sister Lady Icicle. One smile from her ought to turn the ambassador into putty – until he realises she’ll freeze him to death like all the others.”
“Now, Caversham, I wish you wouldn’t speak about our hosts that way. Especially not Lady Selina,” protested Lord Louis. “It’s not the done thing, you know.”
Malcolm supposed it wasn’t
