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“Helps keep me sane, you see,” the duke said. “Seven daughters are enough to send anybody over a cliff and we live on the moors—all too many opportunities for it. Oh, what ho? Here’s another of the fairer sex intent on sending me over a cliff.”

Roland turned to see Lady Marchfield, a very respected matron. If he was not mistaken regarding family connections, she was the duke’s sister.

“Lady Misery,” the duke said, “who let you in? I thought this place congratulated itself on its standards.”

Roland’s eyes widened, though Lady Marchfield herself seemed to give little notice to it.

“Serenity, you look very well indeed,” Lady Marchfield said. “Lord Thorpe, good to see you again.”

Roland bowed. “Lady Marchfield,” he said.

“Thorpe here has got himself down on Serenity’s card,” the duke said. “Saw her cavorting round in the snow last evening.”

Lady Marchfield’s brows raised ever so slightly over that information. She said, “Lord Thorpe, do not pay much mind to anything my brother has to say, and certainly do not hold it over his daughter. He thinks himself original, though the world finds him otherwise.”

The duke nodded. “You see what I’m up against, Thorpe.” He patted his coat and said, “I’ve brought a flask of brandy in case you need a nip—Lady Misery could make a Rechabite gulp down a whole bottle of the stuff.”

Roland had never been involved in such an awkward exchange in his life.

Clearly, the brother and sister were not admiring of one another.

Further, the duke was his own brand of eccentric.

It was not every gentleman who could work the mention of an ancient sect of Israelite teetotalers into a conversation.

“Do not be fooled by his pretensions of knowing the bible,” Lady Marchfield sniffed. “He would be more likely to have a deal with the devil than God.”

“You’ve gone wrong again!” the duke cried. “My housekeeper has a deal with the devil, or so she says.”

“I would not at all doubt it,” Lady Marchfield said.

Roland looked toward Lady Serenity to see what she would make of her father’s and aunt’s exchanges.

He had imagined she’d be ready to sink through the floor at the insults hurled back and forth.

As it happened, she did not look at all perturbed.

She must think what was occurring was quite usual. Perhaps it was.

He supposed he ought not be too surprised. His relations with his brother were not much better. Perhaps all families had such disputes? If they did, they hid it better than the duke and Lady Marchfield.

“Your Grace, Lady Serenity, Lady Marchfield,” a voice said behind his shoulder. It was a voice he knew all too well and had just left on the other side of the ballroom. Charles.

“Lord Charles,” Lady Marchfield said.

“Lady Marchfield, the Duchess of Devonshire has very kindly put me down on your niece’s card, if she does not object to it.”

Lady Serenity said, “No, certainly I would not object.”

“Lord Charles is Lord Thorpe’s younger brother,” Lady Marchfield said, explaining the connection.

“Hah!” the duke said, “that is amusing, is it not? Two brothers take Serenity round the floor. Not at the same time, I hope.”

“I have been given the honor of the first,” Charles said.

Of course he would have run to the duchess and asked for it, Roland thought.

As soon as he’d seen Roland approach the lady, he’d been determined to find out more.

His brother would have seen that he’d taken the dance before supper and decided to make it into some sort of competition.

There was nothing Charles could not make a competition out of.

“I will lead Lady Serenity into supper,” Roland said.

“Ah,” the duke said, pointing at Charles, “he’s got you there, has he not?

He got you on the title, and now he’s got you out the gate at Almack’s.

Though, naming it a supper is very complimentary and entirely a fib.

I wouldn’t feed that nonsense to my dog, and he’s only got three legs and one working eye. ”

Charles’ back stiffened. The duke would not know he’d just hit a very sore spot by mentioning the title.

“Roland!” Lady Marchfield hissed.

Roland turned to her in alarm, but she was glaring at her brother. Then he recalled that they both carried the same given name.

“Papa, you know perfectly well that Nelson is the best dog in the wide world, despite what might look like deficiencies.”

“So I’ve been told many times, my dear,” the duke said. “I suppose that’s why he gets the best of our meats for his dinner?”

“Just so,” Lady Serenity said. She turned to Roland and Charles. “We discovered Nelson outside of an inn. He was surviving on scraps.”

“Scraps?” Charles said. “How cruel!”

This pretending to be shocked seemed to strike Lady Serenity rather hard, though it was nonsense. Charles did not have a care for animals at all, and it had caused many a rift between them over the years.

The orchestra had been tuning for some time. Now couples began to move to their places for the cotillion. “Lady Serenity,” Charles said, holding out his arm.

His brother led the lady away. Roland suppressed a sigh and walked off to find Lady Matilda.