The Inconvenient Duchess

put in an appearance. We shall stay until midnight and then slip quietly away before supper. I shall tell the host that, since I am newly married and madly in love, I cannot bear to share you.’
    ‘Madly?’
    ‘Most certainly.’
    She smiled again. ‘And I shall tell the hostess that if I am not good company it is because it pains me to be away from your side, even for an hour.’
    He grinned at her. ‘Then we will steal away home as soon as possible and create as much scandal as possible while we are there. Perhaps I will kiss you on the dance floor.’
    ‘Perhaps I will kiss you back. That will most certainly shock the vicar and his wife.’
    He laughed and blew her a kiss as the carriage drew up in front of the great house where the ball was to be held. He took her arm, led her to be announced and escorted her to the receiving line to meet the host and hostess, a local lord and his wife who had known Marcus since he was a child.
    The rosy-cheeked old man smiled at her and demanded, ‘Where did you find such a lovely young thing, Haughleigh? Not on the continent, surely.’
    ‘She was blown to me on that storm a few weeks ago. And a fair wind that was. I knew at once that I must have her.’ Hesmiled down at her with such obvious pride that she couldn’t help but smile back.
    He led her out in a dance and then left her, kissing her hand as a crowd of young men surrounded her, vying for spots on her dance card and wondering aloud whether she might have a sister half as pretty.

    To her surprise, she found the ball enjoyable, despite the absence of her husband. As she whirled around the dance floor in one set or another, she caught occasional glimpses of Marcus in the crowd, smiling with obvious pride at the success she was having. And her dancing skills were quite up to the abilities of many of her partners. She was spinning down the line in a gallopade and laughing at the number of times that her partner had almost trodden on her own toes when the man at the bottom of the set caught her and spun her.
    ‘St John.’ She mouthed the name as he smiled into her eyes.
    She stumbled and caught herself, and was dancing unsteadily with her own partner again, mind whirling faster than the dance.
    Of course, she was to see him again. He had been banished from the house, and she had hoped that that meant he was nowhere around. But it only meant he was out of sight of his brother. That was no reason to believe that he wasn’t close by, and no reason why he might not appear at the home of an old family friend.
    Had Marcus seen him? Had they spoken? She doubted it. The last time she had seen Marcus he appeared relaxed and happy, not in the least like the man he was whenever St John was present. Or even mentioned in conversation, she remembered. The hatred between them, whatever its cause, ran so deep that they couldn’t be in the same room together without incident. She must warn…
    Who? She could not very well suggest to her husband that he leave before meeting St John. It would look too much to his proud eye like a retreat.
    And St John? If she spoke to him at all, the results could be disastrous. What if he took it as a show of interest? What if Marcus saw them together? Or what if St John spoke to Marcus about the two weeks he had been gone. More for St John than for her, even a hint of what had transpired between them would be worse than disastrous.
    The flush of guilt that swept through her when she thought of the last encounter with her brother-in-law was enough to verify the danger of the situation. She could not talk to either of them on this without ruining what she’d hoped would have been a perfect evening. She scanned the ballroom, but saw no sign of her husband, or of St John.
    It would be a lie, and she had promised not to lie to her husband, but it must be done. It was almost midnight, and he had promised that they could go. She had but to whisper in his ear that she could bear no more and they would be in the carriage and on the way home.
    After the set, she fanned herself and confessed to her partner that she was feeling faint, and in need of air. She declined his offer of company, but suggested, should the young man see the duke, that he tell him she was ready to depart. With that, she slipped out of the ballroom and on to the terrace, scanning it for signs of her husband. If he was not dancing, then he was here, or perhaps in the card room. A systematic search would be necessary.
    ‘Seeking