Page 2 of The Duke of Cups (The Highwaymen #3)

“I see,” said Marian, smiling at her. “So this, then, is your requirement. You wish to marry someone wealthy. And here I thought that when someone had a dowry like yours, it meant that you had no considerations.”

“I don’t wish to be used, that’s all,” said Hyacinth.

“The other one, definitely,” said Marian. “Rutchester is preferable. He’s a man , isn’t he, with those shoulders? I think I could break Dunrose in two.”

Dunrose did have a sort of elfin element to his appearance, Hyacinth supposed. He was tall and he had elegant, long fingers and he never seemed to speak without looking down at everyone with a haughty affectation.

“Dunrose is sort of… feminine,” said Marian.

“No, he’s not,” said Hyacinth, though perhaps she could see why Marian might say so. He was graceful and maybe even, well, beautiful. But she thought it was a masculine beauty, truly.

Hmm, this was interesting. Had she found this man appealing all along?

The thing was, she’d been warned off the dukes by Seraphine, saying that she must not get herself entangled with them.

They are not safe, if you know what I mean.

Except Hyacinth did not know what Seraphine meant, not at all.

“Well,” said Hyacinth, “neither of them seem to be interested in dancing with anyone at all.”

“We could go and speak to them, I suppose.”

“That would make me look desperate,” said Hyacinth.

“You are, though, aren’t you? Here you are, arriving late to the Season, your first ball, and no one has claimed even one spot on your dance card. And I must say, Hyacinth, it’s because they have all despaired of you. Everyone thinks you will simply reject everyone.”

Hyacinth grimaced. “I suppose I can well understand why that is the impression of me that everyone has. But I don’t think that going and begging is the way to remedy the situation.”

“Well, then, what is?” said Marian.

Hyacinth truly wasn’t sure.

“Come,” said Marian. “I shall initiate everything. You simply follow me. You shan’t look desperate at all.” And now, Marian was moving across the room.

Hyacinth went after her, protesting, but Marian acted as if she didn’t hear as she moved around the periphery of the room.

Before Hyacinth knew it, they were all the way around the ballroom, and the dukes were right in front of them.

Marian sashayed up to the Duke of Rutchester.

“Good evening, Your Grace,” she said brightly.

“And to you, also, Your Grace,” she said to Dunrose, giving him a bare nod before turning back to Rutchester.

“I must say, your hair, Your Grace, any woman would be envious. People must tell you all the time how much they admire your tresses.”

Rutchester looked Marian over, rather like she was a pest of some kind. He shook his head and spoke into his wine. “As a general rule, no, people do not say that to me.”

“So, I am the first?” said Marian, tittering. “Well, I am sure that others think so. Perhaps it’s only that you’re so… intimidating that people feel frightened to compliment you.” She stepped closer, thrusting out her bosom at the same time.

Well, then, Marian had grown quite forward since her marriage, Hyacinth thought. Perhaps the marriage bed, whatever exactly it was, because she only had the vaguest of ideas about it all, brought that out in women?

Rutchester coughed, taking a step back from Marian, now looking at the woman with what seemed to be real fear, as if she terrified him.

The Duke of Dunrose was chuckling at this. He caught Hyacinth’s eye as if he expected her to share the joke.

She tried to smile back, but she felt quite uncomfortable, in all truth. How much had Marian had to drink?

“Miss Thomas,” said Dunrose, smiling at her with his characteristic lazy arrogance. “Have you somehow managed to not get married yet? How many Seasons have you been the most eligible of debutantes, after all? Do you practice your rejections in the looking glass?”

Hyacinth flushed, feeling her face heat up. “Of course not!”

Dunrose snickered. “Oh, dear, I didn’t mean to offend you,” he said. “I suppose your dance card is simply overflowing this evening.”

She pressed her lips together.

“Of course, you aren’t dancing now, are you?”

She licked her lips. He could see she wasn’t dancing, couldn’t he?

“Rutchester,” said Dunrose, glancing sidelong, “if you’re looking for some way out of that conversation with the countess, you could ask Miss Thomas for a dance.”

Marian turned to gape at Dunrose, clearly horrified at the cheek of the man, to say such a thing. She also blushed bright red. She looked back at the Duke of Rutchester. “My apologies, Your Grace, if I did not realize my conversation was unwanted.”

“I never said that,” said Rutchester darkly. “You mustn’t listen to anything out of Dunrose’s mouth, you know. He’s frightfully idiotic.”

“I am, yes,” said Dunrose, amused. “The village idiot, doubtless. But I also am not afraid of women, either, so…” He shrugged.

Rutchester rounded on him, and he seemed to smolder, as if he were about to burst into flame. Hyacinth would not be surprised if an animal growl rumbled out of the man’s chest.

“As per usual,” said Dunrose, raising his eyebrows. “You can insult me, but you can’t handle it when I insult you back.”

“I can’t bear your company when the others aren’t around,” said Rutchester. “I seem to have forgotten that.” He turned and stalked off.

“Drat,” said Dunrose, examining his fingernails.

“We came in one carriage. I think I may be stranded.” He sighed theatrically.

He turned back to Hyacinth. “Well, Miss Thomas, I would ask you to dance, but I’m ever so filled with anxiety about how it is I’m even going to get home now.

I must remedy that situation immediately. If you’ll excuse me?”

“Certainly, sir,” said Hyacinth flatly.

“Miss Thomas,” he said nodding at her. Then, to Marian, “My lady.” He took his leave with a little bow.

Hyacinth and Marian stared off into the dukes’ wake.

“Well,” said Marian with a little shrug, “that went abundantly well.”

Hyacinth shot her a look.

Then, both of them burst out into gales of laughter.