Page 8 of The Duke Disaster (The League of Extraordinary Widows #1)
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“ T he duke danced with you.” Minerva sounded shocked as she furiously waved her fan. “Good lord, the air is stifling. You might think a breeze could find its way through this ballroom. No wonder the guests keep racing to the terrace.”
“Miasma.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Our host fears miasma from the Thames will pollute his ballroom. Thus, no open windows. Only the terrace doors. Also”—she snatched a glass of champagne from a passing servant—“there are a great deal of young ladies in attendance, as well as gentlemen. The evening is ripe for stolen kisses.”
“Hmmph. I hadn’t considered either the miasma or the possible ruination of this Season’s crop of debutantes.”
Of course not. Minerva would stab any man who tried to steal a kiss.
“And as far as Heartlesswood is concerned, he only danced with me to prove a point—that as outlandish as I am, I am still a Barnes.” She took a large swallow of champagne. “Also, he was overly concerned that I meant to tup poor Elliot in the gardens.”
“Were you? About to bed Mr. Elliot?”
“Really? You too?”
Minerva looked down at Celia from her greater height. “In defense of the duke, it is ridiculous to assume you were merely going out for a breath of air with Elliot. He’s a well-known rake. He wasn’t taking you outside to pick roses.”
“Very well. I hoped for a kiss. I hadn’t decided what other liberty I might grant him.” She winked at Minerva. “But then Hartwood came stomping by to ruin my fun. Dragging me away into a private alcove so he might reprimand me.”
Celia smiled at a young lord who paused to take her in as he walked by. “Is that Lord Quenton?”
“The duke is far more interesting than he appears.”
“He is not the least interesting,” Celia assured her, turning back to Minerva. “He’s intolerable. Exceptionally tedious. No humor whatsoever. I’m not sure he ever learned to smile.”
“Hartwood does dance exceedingly well,” Minerva mused. “Intolerable or not. I expected him to stiffly jerk about in an austere way, given the stick you claim is wedged up his backside. But he was quite graceful.”
Celia would have said sensual. The way he’d boldly notched his leg between hers had been more carnal in nature. But graceful worked just as well.
“How terrifying your dance must have been. Reprimanded. Spun artfully about to the shock of the entire ball. I trust you are now appropriately subdued.”
“Not at all.” Their dance had been heated. Hostile. But not terrifying. For all his arrogance and demands, Celia wasn’t afraid of Hartwood, though she probably should be.
“Honestly, I’m not sure why the Barnes cousins are so worshipful, other than that he dictates they adore him. Along with everything else.”
“Lady Helen doesn’t seem to mind, though I doubt she does much thinking on her own. Nothing more than a pretty ornament.” A puff of disgust left Minerva’s mouth. “That is how all the gentlemen see us. As property. Ordering about our existence. And you wonder why I believe a young lady should be educated in more than how to play the piano.”
Minerva could be so…militant at times.
“I’m going to continue to conduct myself in the manner I see fit, Hartwood or not.” Celia finished her champagne. “But I will temper my behavior and avoid the duke, along with the rest of the Barnes cousins.”
Minerva looked in the direction of Claremont and Hartwood. Their little group had been joined by half a dozen more members of the Barnes clan, easily discernable by the Barnes nose and the aloof way they held themselves.
“I think you’ll find it harder than you imagine, Celia. There’s so many of them.”