Something about the way his arms encircled her, or the look in his eyes when he smiled down at her during the measures—she chastised herself intensely for placing any kind of importance on what she believed to be his naturally polite nature.
And yet…
As the music ended, he manoeuvred them to within speaking distance of Prudence, thus ensuring that they were surrounded once more by friends.
Lady Streatford’s progress toward them was thwarted as another older lady tapped her on the arm and pointed at Albert with a frown.
“Oh dear,” sighed Lydia, looking at the couple. “It seems as though the nincompoop has been misbehaving himself.”
Ivy couldn’t turn and stare, much as she wanted to. “Who is it this time?” She leaned toward Lydia as if in conversation.
“Lady Celchester,” answered Lydia. “I would guess Albert has been lurking around Harriet.”
“Her daughter?”
“Her niece.”
“Urgh. He is such a bore. As is his mother.” Ivy bit her lip. “And I feel somewhat responsible for their presence in an obscure and roundabout sort of way.”
Lydia snorted. “Don’t be absurd. It’s as plain as the nose on your face she’s here to snabble Prudence for her misbegotten offspring. And that is in no way your fault or your responsibility. Someone like that would have followed any potential match for her annoying son, no matter where the path led.”
“Exactly what I’ve been saying,” endorsed Prudence, coming up to the conversation and slipping her arm through Ivy’s. “Uncle Colly and I are the reason she’s here. You, my dear friend…” she tugged on Ivy’s arm, “you are my guardian angel. You and Lydia and everyone. The great plan is a huge success and my dance card is filled.” She held it up with a smile. “All people I like. So I can turn down Albert with a perfectly clear conscience.”
As if summoned by his niece, the Duke moved to her side. “Miss Ivy. Prudence tells me she’ll be taking supper with her friends. May I join you?”
“Of course, your Grace,” smiled Ivy. She leaned toward him a little. “There is strength in numbers.”
He grinned back; the smile easing the more customary serious expression he tended to exhibit. “My sentiments precisely.” He held out his arm to her. “Shall we?”
“We shall indeed.” She nodded at Prudence. “Food awaits.”
As if responding to a signal, Matthew, Judith, Rose and Lord Miles Linfield joined the little party, with Sir Ragnor Withersby appearing shortly thereafter.
It was a merry time, and Ivy thoroughly enjoyed watching the Duke relax in such congenial company.
She couldn’t help but notice, however, the steely looks of disapproval that were being cast their way from the corner of the room where Lady Streatford and her son were also dining. Alone.
“Do you think that Lady Maud will be able to prevent them from returning?” Prudence delicately dabbed her lips with a napkin and used it to conceal her comment to Ivy.
“If she can’t, I will be most surprised.”
“The Streatford name is not without consequence…”
“But the Sydenham name has more. And is better liked.” Ivy grinned. “Would you care to place a wager on the winner were it to come to a fight?”
“Lord no,” giggled Prudence. “Lady Maud would lay her out in lavender within seconds.”
Ivy nodded. “So I would hazard a very strong guess that this will be the first and last visit to the Wednesday club by the Streatfords. Especially Albert.”
Once again, the unpleasant young man had returned to his ill-mannered habit of ogling the ladies present.
Ivy made a little moue of distaste. “I have to say, I seriously dislike Albert. There’s nothing honourable about him whatsoever.” She caught the Duke’s eye as she spoke. “Meaning no disrespect, your Grace.”
He rolled his eyes. “Since I agree with you on every point, Miss Ivy, that comment is unnecessary. The man is a disgrace to the Streatford name, and I have tried my best to point that out to his doting mama. Who, in my opinion, is doing more damage than good by allowing him to behave thus.”
She nodded. “I agree.”
The music struck up in the ballroom, signalling the return of the musicians, and the group rose as one, Prudence checking her dance card. “Matthew, I believe this is our dance?”
Matthew sighed. “If you say so, Miss Prudence.” He slumped dramatically. “I must suffer for your pleasure.”
Lydia whacked him with her fan. “Enough of the theatrics. You know you enjoy dancing with Prudence. Get to it.”
He chuckled. “Of course I do.” He held out his arm. “Come along, Miss Prudence. Let’s show them how it’s done.”
He whisked her away, and Ivy couldn’t help admiring the sight of the two of them laughing as they joined the couples lining up in preparation for the dance.
The Duke came to her side. “A pleasant sight,” he murmured. “Would that I could enjoy it, but I am promised to Lady Doherty. And there she is.” He bowed to Ivy, who dipped him a polite curtsey as he departed to do his duty.
She watched for a little while, standing to one side, having no partner of her own for this particular dance. Judith and Ragnor were happily twirling through the measures, as were Rose and Miles. Their wedding was done, their honeymoon over, but they still smiled at each other as if it had been only yesterday.
Two of her friends wed, and—in defiance of the Ton—for love. She was delighted for them both, but worried about Prudence’s fate. The young lady had become a true friend, and Ivy would hate for her to be matched to an eligible husband, only to find the warmer affections lacking in the marriage.
The Duke, who was at the moment performing his part in the measures with great elegance and his customary lack of expression, had his niece’s best interests at
