Royal Regard by Mariana Gabrielle

dancing by, ladies dresses
shimmering like precious jewels under the candlelight, but not half
as magnificent as her hair. A few loose strands fell from her
upswept coiffure, draping like antique gold down the side of her
face, her eyes set like sapphires on a diadem.
    She glanced toward him to gauge his
sincerity, collecting her conversation. He saw the lonely young
lady she must have been as a debutante, and prepared himself to
carry the conversation, if he managed to make her nervous enough to
lose her head.
    “Surely you have heard I am the biggest
wallflower on Earth, well familiar with the edges of a dance
floor.”
    “I have only heard you charmed your husband’s
associates and the king’s ambassadors all over the globe,” he
half-lied, “and you are as responsible as Huntleigh for his many
successes.”
    Her face turned away as a wall sconce
flickered as though it would burn out. He could only be so lucky as
to suddenly have a dimmer corner in which to carry out his
quest.
    “You will gain no advantage trying to please
me. My husband will only take into account you tried and hold it
against you.”
    “Surely I am at an advantage among friends,
and it behooves me to cultivate such relationships.”
    “You are more likely to make me a friend,
Wellbridge,” Huntleigh interjected as he limped toward them, not a
moment or two before the lamp sputtered out, “by cultivating
relationships with everyone else’s wife.” He turned to her. “Have
we kept you waiting too long, my dear?”
    She slipped her hand into her husband’s. “Of
course not, darling, but I do so want to dance.”
    Huntleigh looked like she’d suggested he take
his shoes off to be filleted for his supper. “Did you not already—?
I mean, people are dancing. Is there no one—? Er—?” He looked
hopefully back at the card room. “Surely we agreed on—”
    Her head dropped, “You did ask I only speak
with Lord Anson, nothing more, but the Pinnesters are now in
attendance so perhaps Lord Enstrom might—Just one set?”
    She stopped before the gossip ran pêle-mêle across the room. “No one knows me anymore. I
suppose I should be grateful.” All three of them knew the problem
was too many people knew her. “Charlotte cannot be expected to
entertain me all evening and Alexander—” She looked over at Nick.
“I mean, Lord Firthley—”
    “—is in the card room,” Nick finished. He
looked over at her husband, pointedly taking in the cane and
Huntleigh’s bad leg. “By the Knight’s Creed, man, I swear I have no
sinful designs on your wife, but she has been waiting like a saint
to dance, and her suffering is all down to me. I think it only
right I partner her for the next figure, since I am a very good
dancer, and she is tapping her toe. The music is winding down; a
new set will start in just a few minutes. What say you,
Huntleigh?”
    Huntleigh’s delight at avoiding even the
question of dancing warred with concern about Nick’s prurient
interests. In the end, he waved away any worry with a misplaced
sense of confidence.
    “Dearest, if you would like to indulge
Wellbridge in a dance, you may, but you needn’t entertain his
addresses if you prefer not. He is entirely too brazen, but you
have always proven quite capable of keeping a nobleman in his
place.”
    Lady Huntleigh’s fear of anyone observing her
notice of the Duke of Wellbridge, especially the duke himself,
crossed her face faster than gossip through the ladies of the ton . She couldn’t hide a bit of what she was thinking. Nick
was charmed again, though he felt a twinge of guilt finding himself
pleased by the pained expression. And he was well aware her husband
had seen her flashes of interest and was now rethinking his
permission.
    Before he had the chance, Lady Huntleigh
said, “You must not be so familiar with the duke, husband,” looking
back and forth between them, “but if you would like me to dance
with your business associate , of course, I will make