Page 7 of The Duke’s Goddess (Duke Dare #2)

“Do not repeat the tactics which have gained you one victory, but let your methods be regulated by the infinite variety of circumstances.”

—Sun Tzu

Two Days Later

JOAN FOUND HERSELF AT another wedding. A house party wedding. And here she stood in the ballroom that was decorated with more flowers than the eye could take in, not really looking for James. But if her eyes happened to catch sight of him, she wouldn’t be upset.

Mimi was making comments about the floral decisions. Something about the white lilies meaning pure love alongside the hyacinths being charming. Or was it the other way around? She wasn’t sure. And as she caught sight of a tall dark-headed man in the corner she tried to avert her eyes. But her heart was hammering in her chest. Why it should be doing that, she wasn’t sure. But if James was here, she just wanted to be prepared. That’s all.

“Joan?” Mimi’s impatient voice rang through her thoughts, her fingertips tapping against her crossed upper arm. “Are you even listening to me?”

“Of course. Liles. Love. Hyacinths. Charming.” It should satisfy Mimi that she could regurgitate a few words back.

“We’ve moved on from the flowers, Joan. What are you woolgathering about? A daring escape with a highwayman at midnight?” Mimi was always so dramatic. “Being rescued by a pirate on the seven seas?”

“Where do you come up with these ideas, Mimi?” Nobi asked, while placing her hand in her dress pocket.

Mimi tapped her temple, implying the power of her overworked imagination. “And books, of course,” she said with a twinkle in her eye. Mimi was perhaps the most voracious reader of all the sisters. Any genre, but mostly romance (as was made obvious by her sharing her fantasies), was her preference.

Joan was relieved that the focus had shifted from her to her sister though. She really didn’t want to tell her sisters anything about James. Because…well, she wasn’t really sure what there was to say. Unfortunately for her, the relief was short lived.

“Are you going to tell us, Joan? Or do we have to drag it out of you? What’s on your mind?”

Dragging usually didn’t sound pleasant, but if they pulled bits and pieces out of her, that might help her process what she was actually thinking. And she wanted to talk to her sisters about James—even though she didn’t—so she asked the next best thing.

“Have you seen Sally tonight?”

“Yes, I saw her earlier. So you’re not going to tell us about your dance with James the other night?”

“No.” Joan answered dismissively. “Where did you see her?”

“Fine.” Mimi released her crossed arms. “We should seek Sally out then and find out what’s going on with Jacob,” Mimi said it as if it were a suggestion, but the sisters knew it was as good as a command.

“If we all go, that might be a bit overwhelming. We don’t want to bombard the poor girl. I’ll go find out what’s happening, and then I’ll report back to you.”

Mimi gave her a dubious look, and then must have decided that that course of action seemed logical. “Fine,” she agreed.

Joan started walking in the crowded ballroom. She kept returning one hand to her right pocket for more reason than just habit. But it did help to avoid being bumped, even marginally. With the people around her, she was itching for activity other than a society event though. She didn’t mind the balls, actually enjoyed dancing (enough), but she preferred a more invigorating pastime. She would get to it when she had time. She could already envision the target.

For now, Joan's search for Sally was on though.

Which was good. Because if she found Sally, she would probably find Jacob sooner rather than later. And if she found Jacob, well, James might be there, too. If he was, he was. And if he wasn’t, that was fine too. It was a tad distracting that she should keep thinking of his large frame and his firm, but graceful movements on the dance floor. That dance. She sighed. It had been…nice.

She shook her head, refocusing on her mission. Sally and Jacob. Specifically, Sally.

Ah…There she is.

Joan grabbed a couple of drinks from a passing tray as she walked over to her friend. Handing one to Sally, she greeted her with a smile.

“You’re so lucky,” Sally sighed.

Joan tried to hide her surprise. “Oh? Why do you say that?”

“You’ve been spending so much time with him.” Him. Joan knew who him was. He was the him she was not hoping to see tonight. Just open to the idea of seeing him.

“I wouldn’t say so much time.” It was only a lemonade and a waltz.

“You danced with him, did you not?” Sally’s eyes had turned dreamy, and Joan had an inkling that the scheming to get Sally and Jacob together may need to be taken up a level, but how?

“I did dance with him.”

“Was it more than you could have ever imagined?”

Well, it was certainly more than Joan had ever imagined. But that was because she had never imagined it before. However, since that dance, she had imagined it again. On occasion. And she had been prone to wonder if a second round of dancing would surpass all the imagining she had done since not imagining him.

“It was…nice,” she said flatly, giving voice to her own assessment of the event and hoping to deter Sally from asking more questions.

Her glassy-eyed friend only exhaled again. “Oh, to be held in the arms of a man desired by so many.”

Joan did not want to dissect that statement, so she asked about a (hopefully) safer topic. “Did Jacob pay you a visit after your dance?” It was only normal for a gentleman to pay a call or send flowers to the ladies he danced with. Joan was hanging onto hope that Jacob’s gentlemanly honor trumped his timidity.

The question seemed to shake Sally from her dreamstate. “Yes, he did.” A smile—true, a very small one, but it was a slightly curled lip all the same—formed on her face.

“That’s lovely. Did he bring you flowers?”

“Of course, he did.” Sally eyed Joan directly, as if to say she had just asked a ridiculous question.

“Not all men bring flowers, you know?”

“Don’t they?” Sally was paying attention now. She turned her body away from the dancers to fully face Joan.

“The Duke of Baskim didn’t bring Boudicca flowers on his first visit.” And Joan regretted letting that juicy tidbit slip from her lips the second she heard the masked glee in Sally’s reply.

“You don’t say?”

Joan cleared her throat. “He—” She had no idea how she was going to finish that sentence. Doing her best to make it sound like Wes wasn’t a complete nincompoop. “He forgot.” Yes, that was her best in the moment because it also happened to be the exact moment her eyes caught sight of a dark headed waltzing wonder. Not that she thought that of James. But some women somewhere did.

“I can’t believe the duke forgot flowers.”

“He made it up to her, don’t worry.” Joan rushed the words in an attempt to shush Sally so that she could concentrate on James's movements. And then she realized that it was utterly foolish to track the dratted rake. She had far better things to do. Like, pretending she wasn’t following his every move with her eyes.

And even though she wanted to retract her clipped tone and replace it with the full story, she realized that Sally hadn’t even noticed because all she responded with was a hissed, “He’s here.” As if Joan needed the reminder.

James caught her eye, half-smirked and walked in the opposite direction of her and Sally. Joan exhaled, not realizing she had been holding her breath. Of course, James wouldn’t approach. He didn’t want to encourage Sally in any way. But what had the coy look been about?

“How do I look, Joan?”

“You look beautiful as always, Sally. But you needn’t worry. He’s not coming this way,” she said, turning to Sally more fully and ignoring James's presence.

“You’re probably right. Perhaps we can try to make him jealous again? Do you really think that plan would work?”

“It’s human nature to want what you don’t have.”

“I don’t have him yet, but that doesn’t mean I can’t have him,” Sally rejoined.

Joan held back on replying to that. Sometimes what a person didn’t have was for good reason. Like in this case. James was a notorious rake. A womanizer. He used women to bed. How many more ways did she need to say it? James was not looking for marriage. Did Sally not care that her reputation was on the line? That even if she did snare James, he would likely end up resentful of her and her scheming ways? That was no way to live a life: the object of someone’s resentment.

But Sally wanted what she didn’t have. What she shouldn’t have. And, in spite of her shyness, she was insistent in asking, “Wouldn’t you agree?”

Joan shrugged just as a man approached her side. She was about to be inwardly grateful for the distraction when she recognized the male figure. Lord Tamely extended his hand saying, “May I have this dance?”

It was rude—disgraceful even—to decline the man, despite him being a weasel. So she took his hand and was swept across the dance floor. But it wasn’t a nice, gentle sweeping, like how a woman might feel light on her feet, dancing on air even. No, it was a sweeping sensation as if she were a broom, being handled.

“Are you enjoying your evening?” the weasel asked.

“Yes,” Joan chose a monosyllabic response in an attempt to discourage further questions.

“It’s a nice night for a wedding, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” She added a half nod with this reply so as not to appear too impolite. And she worked up a half smile to add to the half nod to round out the two halves and make a whole. Though inwardly she wholeheartedly cringed.

Thankfully the dance was short, and Lord Tamely was leading her back to Sally. It couldn’t have been more perfect timing because just as she was walking up, so were Jacob and James. She could feel James's eyes on her, piercing the skin on her hand where Lord Tamely was freeing her from his forearm.

If Lord Tamely could have read the room, or at least the small group he was in, he would have quickly acknowledged that he was the fifth wheel. Unfortunately, he had no such abilities of perception.

“Tamely, didn’t you say you were going to dance with Lady Simone this evening?” James gave a curt tilt of his head which Tamely didn’t misinterpret.

“Quite,” he said, bowing and taking his leave. Though he gave one last look at Joan, and then at James. Turning to Joan, he said, “It was lovely dancing with you.” And he kissed the air above her hand.

And just before Joan could worry about Sally making another move on the wrong man, James stepped up. Again. “I believe this dance is mine.”

Another dance. Another dance with the rake. Surely it wasn’t so bad to agree to it. After all, it was saving her friend, who she could see from the corner of her eye taking Jacob’s hand to the dance floor. They both had a slight blush, and Joan could only hope that they would see (and quickly!) how they were made for each other.

James didn’t waste any time in getting to the heart of the matter. “Is love blossoming?”

Startled, Joan drew her eyes up to meet the ocean tide she knew awaited her. “What do you mean?” Could he read her? She didn’t even know what was going on inside of herself. Her heart was hammering. Here she was. Dancing with the rake. Again. At a wedding. Talking about love. That’s all the fluttering was about. The same damn environment had been recreated. Joan took a slow inhale to calm her nerves. And whatever that mad fluttering was in her stomach.

“Those two.” He canted his head in the direction of Sally and Jacob. “Are they in love yet?”

“I don’t think it happens that quickly.” Though…she couldn’t really be sure.

“We need to do more. Did she say anything to you about Jacob?”

“Not really. Just that he brought her flowers when he visited.”

James blew a raspberry with his lips. “Every man does that.”

“Not every man…”

But he didn’t answer her with more than a curious brow. “Every man should. It’s a moot point. He did it. He should have done it. Now he needs to do more. Are you sure she didn’t say anything else?”

“She just mentioned you.”

“What did she say about me?” He asked with a waggle of his brows, possibly searching for one of the many compliments he knew was passed around the gossip circles.

“Just that you’re….”

He winked at her and spun her around. “You can tell me.”

“She said she wanted to be held in the arms of a man desired by so many.”

“That’s good.” James looked impressed, and even a bit enlightened. “We can use that. She’s not really interested in me, just the idea of me. We need to give her a better idea of Jacob.”

“But Jacob is nothing like you.”

“Exactly. But maybe she just needs a new idea about Jacob. How quickly can you convince your sisters to start spreading a few bad rumors about a good man?”