The Trouble With Being a Duke by Sophie Barnes

considering how easily he’d allowed his newly adopted righteousness to slip this evening. “I realize that, Mama.”
    “After all,” his mother continued with a note of despair, “the invitation did say midnight fireworks. I waited as long as I could for you to return, but the guests were getting restless and—”
    “I’m sorry, Mama,” Anthony said, and he meant it. She’d always had her husband at her side whenever she’d hosted such events. This was her first public appearance without him, and Anthony had thoughtlessly abandoned her in favor of kissing Miss Smith. He felt like an ass.
    His mother sighed, shook her head a little and then smiled. “Considering your lovely toast, I do believe I’ll accept your apology. Thank you for that, by the way—I know it was difficult for you.”
    Difficult?
    Nightmarish was more like it. His hands had started to sweat, his cravat had felt tighter than a hangman’s noose, and he’d felt his heart beating closer to his knees than to his chest. Not to mention that the pressure of saying the right thing and not making a fool of himself in front of everyone had made him feel faint. In fact, he was quite certain he’d lost all sensation in his toes for the entire duration of the ordeal.
    His thoughts were interrupted by a bright burst of color in the night sky as the first firework exploded with a popping sound. Glancing down at Miss Smith, he saw her eyes light up as she watched the display, and it filled him with deep satisfaction knowing that he’d contributed to this small moment of happiness for her.
    “I used to watch this from my bedroom window as a child,” she said, her voice so low and dreamy that Anthony wondered if she was aware that she’d spoken her thoughts aloud.
    He held quiet, hoping that she might say more, but she didn’t, so he eventually whispered, “Your parents didn’t mind you staying up so late?”
    She didn’t turn her head to look at him, but he could see that she was smiling. “They didn’t know,” Miss Smith said. “They would put me to bed at a decent hour, but I would stay awake, imagining the extravagance of the ball while I waited—the pretty gowns, the dancing and the soft, flowing music. By the time the firework display began, I almost felt as though I was at the ball myself, amidst the splendor.”
    There was a wealth of information to be found in what she’d just told him, and as shrewd as it might have been, Anthony decided to press the advantage that the moment offered. “Did you enjoy growing up in Moxley?”
    “Oh, yes, I . . .” She looked at him then, her eyes unblinking and her lips slightly parted to form a startled expression. And then she frowned, and that frown turned to something else entirely—something sad and defeated that in turn made Anthony feel like a cad. She hadn’t wanted him to know, but he’d tricked her into telling him anyway. He regretted it, and yet he didn’t, because now he finally stood a chance— they stood a chance. If she lived close by, he would find her, no matter what.
    “Kingsborough!” a deep voice called from behind him. Anthony turned to find Lucien Marvaine, the Earl of Roxberry, striding toward him, accompanied by the lovely Lady Crossby, recently widowed, a particularly sad affair, since she’d been left alone with the couple’s six-month-old daughter, Sophia.
    Anthony smiled as they approached. He’d always gotten on well with Roxberry. He had an adventurous streak that Anthony found particularly entertaining. Stepping forward, he was just about to voice his own greeting when from the corner of his eye he saw a flash of movement and then two things occurred at once. Anthony turned his head to see Daniel Neville dancing his way toward him with a lady he did not recognize. They were just coming up beside Lady Crossby and Roxberry when another firework exploded, a loud bang sounded and Neville’s dance partner screamed.
    All else forgotten, Anthony ran forward to