Desperate Duchesses by Eloisa James Page A

between matches.”
    “He’s so rude!” May said. “I simply can’t abide him.” She plumped up her hair. “Perhaps I shal grant Muddle two dances tonight. Here he comes.”
    Charlotte groaned inwardly. Her older sister final y had a beau, Horace Muddle. I’m happy for her, she thought. I’m happy for her.
    Why not be happy? They are both muddled and muddling; they wil live together in happy muddlestown. And I shal live—
    She turned away. One of her friends was hailing her from the side of the room, so she smilingly made her way over to sit among the young matrons, al of whom were her age and spent an inordinately large amount of time discussing their offspring.
    At least to Charlotte’s mind.
    But not tonight.
    “Did you see what she’s wearing?” Lady Hester Vesey asked immediately.
    “I haven’t seen her at al . She had left the receiving line and Beaumont was irritably doing the honors on his own.”
    “There she is,” Hester breathed. “Over to the right.”
    Charlotte took care not to appear to be staring. She straightened her wrap, and smiled at an acquaintance to the left, and then let her eyes drift in the other direction.
    The Duchess of Beaumont had dressed her hair very high in a mass of curls, marked by jeweled flowers. She was exquisitely gowned, so much so that Charlotte felt slightly faint with envy. Her gown was lemon-colored Italian silk, the petticoat puckered al over and sewn with roses.
    “Do you see who she’s talking to?” Hester whispered.
    “Ah,” Charlotte said, her eyes narrowing as the duchess laughed. “It’s Delacroix. I thought she had left him in Paris.”
    “He fol owed her.”
    “Did you hear that her brother has moved into Beaumont House with his child?”
    Charlotte’s eyes opened at that. “I’m amazed the duke would al ow such an irregularity.”
    “It’s got everyone talking again about who the mother could be. Lady Piddleton claimed yesterday that she knew for a fact it was Mary Strachey’s child. But then there’s others who say his mistress took off for America and left him with the babe.”
    “America? That seems unlikely.”
    “Wel , that’s what everyone says. I can’t imagine why he didn’t simply stow it in the country like any decent man would do.”
    “I’ve never seen him with Mary Strachey.”
    “ That means nothing,” Hester said, with irrefutable logic. “Her acquaintances are legion, as it says in the Bible, or at least it says something like that. Your sister is looking very intimate with Muddle.”
    “Yes,” Charlotte said. “I’m hoping for a wedding in the family.”
    “Next we must turn to you,” Hester said comfortably. “It’s never too late!”
    Charlotte silently ground her teeth. “I live in hope.”
    “Wel , that might be—”

    But whatever bit of wisdom Hester was going to offer was swept away as her husband bowed before her and bore her off onto the dance floor, ignoring her protests. “There’s a chess game brewing between Corbin and Vil iers,” he told her. “I’m not missing that, so we’re having our dance now.”
    Charlotte sighed. There was nothing very appealing about the marriages she saw around her, but it was hard not to long for a spouse anyway. She sat stil and tried to look as if she wasn’t alone. You’d think she’d be used to it. A few chords sounded
    …a polonaise was beginning.
    Suddenly a pair of polished shoes stopped before her. “If you please?” A gloved hand paused before her face…she looked up. It was the Duke of Beaumont.
    “Your Grace,” she said, rising and curtsying deeply.
    “Miss Charlotte. May I have the pleasure of this dance?”
    Her heart skipped a beat. Of course, he was a married man, but he was so dreadful y handsome. She rose and placed her hand in his. A moment later they were gravely pacing down the dance floor. Charlotte resisted looking about to see whether anyone had noticed she was dancing with the host.
    Instead she looked up at him. Of