Page 22 of A Lady of Means (Roses and Rakes #1)
Chapter Seventeen
D,
If only I could be where I wanted tonight, I’d be thanking you for that piano that I know you sent. I thought I could play many tunes, but yours is the one that’s stuck in my head.
M
* * *
“All your maneuvering on her behalf, and that’s who she chooses to dance with?”
Moria followed Lady Gretchen’s line of sight, where Kate Herring was dancing with a mere mister, a professor from Oxford.
He was rather ordinary at first glance; but as they passed, Moria heard him asking Kate some question or another about exponents that she could not begin to comprehend.
She saw the way Kate animatedly set off on an explanation.
“Math is the same in every language!” The candlelight set rays on her red hair and as she was animatedly speaking, she was almost….beautiful. Guilt and pride warred inside of Moria over her actions in her drawing room earlier.
“All I did was…give her some life advice and some better clothes,” Moria answered.
Carina continued Lady Gretchen’s argument. “Well, with your…efforts, and your connections, rather, she could do better than a professor.”
Tristan Valentine placed a hand on Moria’s arm. “Maybe we spoke too soon.”
Moria followed their line of vision, to the edge of the ballroom. Kate exited the dancefloor, only to take the Duke of Andover’s hand and follow him onto the floor for a waltz.
Moria swallowed a growing lump in her throat. She felt the turning of so many pairs of eyes in her direction. Bracing for something scandalous to salivate over, to save for later to discuss over tea.
Moria was not surprised given the rapport between Kate and His Grace in Pembrooke House’s sitting room. Her shoulders tensed. Surely he was merely being kind, the way he’d danced with her sister Olivia.
There were at least three lords walking in Moria’s direction, she could let one of them take her hand and claim the dance, or any open on her dance card. Well, she’d given this one to Fitz, who was conspicuously absent, probably somewhere with Noelle.
Moria chose instead to make a trip to the ladies’ retiring room.
When she returned, she joined Lady Gretchen and Carina having a conversation with Kate.
“He offered to introduce you to the Dowager Duchess? But that’s Moria’s beau. They’ve courted for like a year.”
“Beaux are off-limits to friends-” Gretchen backed up Carina’s argument.
“And former beaux too!” Carina added.
Kate crossed her arms. “Well, unlike Lady Moria, no one is sending pianos to me. We don’t all have the same choices.”
“But, it's like against the rules of-” Gretchen was interrupted by Kate.
“The rules of what?” Kate interjected, her tone bored and borderline defensive.
“I don’t know, it’s just a rule,” Gretchen said, gesturing vaguely with her gloved hands.
“Well, I was having a nice time with Professor Carlisle, maybe I’ll—” Kate made for the dancefloor, but Moria was faster.
“Oh no, you can’t,” Moria tugged at the bow at the back of Kate’s gown, a shade of blue more complimentary to her complexion and eye color. “A second dance…that’s social suicide.” She shook her head, handing the lemonade she’d spiked with the contents of her flask in the retiring room to Gretchen.
“Kate, you are so lucky you have us to guide you. Here,” Moria bit down the large sigh that sprang from her lungs as she looked down at her dance card. “Take mine. I’m going home.”
“Lady Moria,” she heard the Duke’s voice over her shoulder, but she didn’t stop walking. His fingers grazed her forearm.
She slipped on a practiced mask as she turned to face him.
“I must prevail upon you to endure my absence,” she smiled up at him. “My brother’s carriage to Brookevale Park departs early in the morning with or without me, Your Grace.”
She was tired. She didn’t really want to play this game anymore. Of all the men in this ballroom, none of them had eyes like a starry night, a warrior’s heart, and knew she favored her left hand.