At least, Athena told herself, she’d danced once upon first arriving. Her brother in-law, the infamous Duke of Kielder, had—no doubt at the request of his wife, Athena’s older sister, Persephone—stood up with her for the length of an entire quadrille. Immediately after which he had taken up his post just behind Athena’s chair. Adam, as His Grace had suggested she call him when they were at home—again, probably at the suggestion of his wife—was not overly fond of going about in society. And society, Athena was fairly certain, rather supported him in that preference. He frightened people. He terrified Athena.
Around her the music was coming to its conclusion, another dance ending. With a mighty effort, Athena kept the tears at bay as she cast her eyes about, hoping a gentleman would magically materialize and request her hand for the next set. She had been at the Debensham’s ball for nearly two hours. The next set was the supper dance. Many gentlemen had approached. Athena had offered a tentative smile. And, every time, moments before reaching her side, each gentleman’s expression had turned from approval to dismay, and they had simply walked past her. One had actually turned on the spot and walked back in the direction from which he had come. Athena felt heat stain her cheeks as she remembered the embarrassment of that moment.
She closed her eyes for a moment, forced a calming breath, and silently uttered yet another prayer. She would survive. No matter what else went wrong, she would survive. The Lancasters were nothing if not persevering.
“Miss Lancaster.”
The sound of a gentleman’s voice so near her startled Athena. She opened her eyes, afraid her sudden nervousness would be embarrassingly obvious. Her discomfort slid away in an instant.
“Hello, Mr. Windover,” she said with palpable relief. Mr. Windover was unfailingly kind and could be counted on to lighten even the most difficult of situations. At that moment, he was a godsend.
“About time you got here, you worthless maggot,” Adam said behind Athena. She tensed at his voice, the way she always did.
“I missed you too, Your Grace.” Mr. Windover grinned up at the single most dangerous man in the room. Only Mr. Windover could have done as much.
Athena very nearly smiled for the first time in hours. Adam was less frightening when Mr. Windover was nearby.
“Make yourself useful, Harry, and dance with Athena,” Adam ordered.
Athena felt her cheeks flame. How horrifyingly humiliating. If her two hours of uninterrupted sitting had not confirmed her a wallflower, having her guardian order a gentleman to stand up with her certainly solidified the label.
“Bad form, old man.” Mr. Windover shook his head in a mock display of disapproval. “I had intended to ask the lady myself. But now she will be convinced I am doing so only on your orders. Bad form.” Mr. Windover smiled at Athena, his blue eyes twinkling down at her. “Dare I hope your supper dance is unclaimed?”
“No,” Athena managed, her heart suddenly leaping. She would not be forced to sit out the supper dance!
“No, I ought not to hope? Or no, it is not claimed?” Mr. Windover smiled more broadly.
A smile slid across Athena’s face. “It is unclaimed,” she clarified.
“If you stand there talking endlessly like a gossiping matron, it will remain unclaimed after the music begins,” Adam said. “Get on with it, sapskull.”
Harry held his gloved hand out to Athena. She slipped her hand in his and rose to walk with him to the set forming nearest her seat. For only a moment, her heart fluttered nervously. But Mr. Windover smiled across at her, and she felt herself grow more at ease. He was a comfortable sort of person—a drastic change from Adam, who had been at her side the entire evening.
The quick movements of the dance made any degree of conversation between them impossible. It was just as well. Despite her frequent practicing, Athena was concentrating on her steps, determined not to embarrass herself.
The dancers, including Mr. Windover, applauded as the orchestra emitted one last, drawn-out note before the mass exodus to the supper room. Athena laid her hand quite properly on the arm Mr. Windover offered her and walked with him out of the ballroom, a little out of breath.
“I understand from your sister that your presentation went well yesterday,” Mr. Windover said after they were both seated with plates of delectable food before them.
“I did not even trip once,” Athena said lightly.
“And you were so certain you would.” Mr. Windover smiled back. Her nervousness had been discussed at some length at a family dinner the evening before her presentation. Mr. Windover was always present at family dinners, something Athena appreciated. Persephone may have been entirely at ease with her husband, but his often surly and always intimidating presence never failed to rid Athena of her appetite. At Falstone Castle she had not been so entirely overset by him. But the combination of her fearsome brother-in-law—his disgruntled nature more keenly accentuated in London—with the prospect of a Season, even a Little one, had proven nearly too much for her nerves.
“I wish you could have been there,” Athena mused, pushing a puff pastry around her plate with her fork. “Persephone was nearly as nervous as I, and His Grace looked . . .” What was the right word?
“Annoyed?” Mr. Windover ventured.
“Precisely.” Athena smiled. “How did you know that? You were not even present.”
“The Fearsome Duke of Kielder generally looks annoyed when interacting with the royal family,” Mr. Windover whispered, leaning closer to her as he did. The last remnants of nervousness slipped away at his nearness. Mr. Windover had that effect on her, had from the moment she’d first met him at Persephone’s wedding. He was calming, peaceful. “I believe he finds them tedious.”
“What amazes me is that he makes no effort to hide his feelings.” Athena shook her head. She could not imagine being so unconcerned with the opinions of the very highest of society. “Does he not worry that he might offend?”
“I do not believe he cares one whit if the royal family is offended by him. They, on the other hand, appear quite concerned about offending him,” Mr. Windover answered. “The queen, I am certain, finds our duke quite fascinating. I understand she goes to great lengths to make him welcome whenever he condescends to attend her drawing rooms.”
“She spoke with him for nearly ten minutes,” Athena confirmed, remembering her shock at the unexpected break with convention. “Exclusively.”
“And he probably glared at her the entire time,” Mr. Windover added.
“He had the temerity to check the time on his pocket watch as Her Majesty was addressing him,” Athena said, knowing her eyes were wide with the memory.
Mr. Windover laughed out loud. “Lands, I wish I had been there to see that.”
“And he caught out the prince watching him rather pointedly and—”
“The prince was actually foolish enough to stare at the Dangerous Duke?”
Athena nodded. “And far more foolish to have been caught doing it.”
“Don’t tell me he called His Royal Highness out again.” Mr. Windover shook his head.
“Again?” Athena felt her heart lurch. “He has previously challenged the Prince of Wales?”
“It is of no account, really. Prinny apologized. The entire thing was smoothed over.”
“Good heavens,” Athena muttered. What kind of guardian did she have? He wrested apologies from the prince himself and found conversation with the queen irritatingly boring. Was it any wonder Athena was so uncomfortable with him?
“Let us discuss more pleasant topics,” Mr. Windover said, smiling as always. He had a very reassuring smile. “How have you enjoyed your very first ball?”
Mortified, Athena felt tears prick at her eyes the instant his question was uttered. How had she enjoyed her first ball? Not at all.
“Tears, Miss Lancaster?” Mr. Windover’s voice lowered to the quietest of whispers. “That will never do.”
“I am sorry,” Athena whispered in reply, trying valiantly to
keep herself in check.
“If you will pretend an exorbitant degree of interest in the contents of your plate,” Mr. Windover suggested, “I shall endeavor to appear entirely at my ease. Then, you see, the other guests will think nothing untoward has occurred, and you may recover your poise with no one the wiser.”
Athena immediately lowered her eyes to her plate, keeping her head bowed enough to hide the sudden sheen of tears evident on her lashes. A young lady did not cry at a ball. Nor did she cry over supper at a ball. A few moments of silence passed while Athena worked to rein in her emotions.
“Has someone upset you?” Mr. Windover asked, his voice still low.
“No,” Athena answered, grateful for the concern she heard in his voice.
“Are you disappointed in the ball?” he ventured. “Or perhaps simply in your partners?”
That nearly undid her. “I h-haven’t had any,” she whispered, hearing the break in her voice.
“You haven’t had any? Any partners?”
Athena glanced up. Mr. Windover’s eyes were on her, a look of empathy on his face. “Except for Adam, when we first arrived. And then you. There were a few times I thought a gentleman was going to approach, but, except for you, they all, without fail, did not. One even spun around and fled.” She took a shaky breath. “I am not sure what is so wrong with me that . . . that . . .”
“Miss Lancaster.” Mr. Windover smiled kindly. “Do you truly believe these gentlemen did not approach you because of something they found lacking in you?”
“What other reason could there be?”
Harry shook his head, as if amused in spite of himself. “There is a rather glaringly obvious reason.”
Athena furrowed her brow, confused. She couldn’t think of anything beyond some monumental failing in herself that she had not discovered yet.
“I believe your lack of partners had everything to do with the fact that the Duke of Kielder was standing at your shoulder with his hand resting rather ominously on the hilt of his dress sword. I am certain many of the gentlemen in attendance were rather afraid that the infamous duke would borrow a page from not-too-distant French history and behead the aristocracy should they disgruntle him in any way.”
“He scared them off,” Athena surmised.
“Precisely.”
It was a far more welcome possibility than the reasoning she had previously applied to the situation. Adam had frightened away her prospective partners. There might be hope for her yet. Except, she immediately amended, Adam was her guardian. Any gentleman who wished to solicit her hand for a dance would have to be willing to approach even with him hovering nearby.
“That does not bode well, does it?” Athena sighed, setting her fork beside her plate, her appetite having fled entirely.
“Never fear. Adam is not likely to attend many more social functions. Persephone is far less intimidating.”
“She has been rather absent this evening,” Athena observed. She hadn’t seen her sister more than a half-dozen times since their arrival, though she was certain Persephone had had no more partners than Athena herself had.
“I have seen her mingling,” Mr. Windover said. “She is setting the foundation of your success, Miss Lancaster. Through her conversations this evening, you will receive invitations to all those events that are necessary for you to make a splash in society. I do not doubt she was taking advantage of Adam’s presence to do so. On those evenings when he is not in attendance, she will be required to remain at your side, being your faithful chaperone.”
“I don’t think Persephone likes to be out without her husband,” Athena said. “She is inordinately fond of him.”
“Incomprehensible, isn’t it?” Mr. Windover smiled. “Who would ever guess that Adam could be any lady’s idea of an ideal husband?”
“He certainly is not mine,” Athena admitted before the incivility of her unguarded confession caused her to clamp her mouth shut and close her eyes against the flush of embarrassment staining her cheeks.
“And what, pray tell, is your idea of an ideal husband?” Mr. Windover asked. His words sounded oddly choked, no doubt the result of his shock at her indelicate words. “What sort of gentleman are you looking to capture?”
Athena thought about his question and realized, to her surprise, she wasn’t entirely sure. The imaginary knight on a white charger of her girlish dreams had only two concrete characteristics: he was inordinately wealthy and deeply in love with her. The former was no longer necessary. The latter was far too personal a wish to voice out loud. “I do not truly know,” she said.
“If you do not know for whom you are looking, how do you expect to find him?”
A good question, indeed. A feeling of unease settled into her stomach. Her romantic dreams were growing more elusive by the moment. “I suppose I expected to simply know. To recognize when . . . when . . .”
“When your prince charming deposited himself at your feet?” Mr. Windover grinned.
He made it sound so childish. To Athena, the idea had always been very romantic, exciting, wonderful. “And why shouldn’t I be able to recognize the gentleman for whom my heart is searching?”
“When, by your own admission, you don’t even know what it is you are looking for?” Mr. Windover shook his head in obvious disapproval, though his smile did not slip. “Haven’t you even a list of some sort? A compilation of desirable characteristics, or something of that nature?”
“Certainly not.” The very idea was as unromantic as she could imagine any undertaking to be. A list! As if she were off to the grocer’s or inventorying linens.
“You have no prerequisites?” Mr. Windover asked doubtfully.
“Nothing beyond the most rudimentary,” Athena asserted. “That he be a gentleman, in the truest sense of the word. And that he be eligible.”
“So his not being married would be a basic requirement and that he not be a costermonger.”
“I believe you are teasing me, Mr. Windover.” Athena managed a smile as well.
“Only a little, and I will confess you have piqued my curiosity. I should very much like to know what type of gentleman could win your affection.”
Something about the tone of his words made Athena blush once more.
“I believe I shall have to endeavor to see that you are introduced to a variety of gentlemen—eligible ones, of course—and see for myself the results of such an unfocused search. Though I must say, I would have expected far more cunning from a young lady named for the goddess of strategic warfare.”
“Warfare?” Athena laughed, though she knew from extensive study that ladies, in general, were expected to limit themselves to smiles when they were amused. “Do you consider the endeavor of seeking a future spouse comparable to war?”
“There are times, Miss Lancaster, when matters of the heart become nothing short of a brutal, painful battle.”
Chapter 3
He was a glutton for punishment. There was no other explanation for it. Why else would Harry be bringing an eligible gentleman through the hordes of humanity attending the Hardfords’ musical evening toward the spot where Athena was holding court?
Adam had not deigned to attend, just as Harry and everyone else even remotely acquainted with the infamous duke’s opinions on musicales could have predicted. Owing to the absence of her armed sentinel, Athena enjoyed the rousing success she ought to have enjoyed at the previous night’s ball. As if enough eligible gentlemen weren’t already crowding around the object of Harry’s affection, he was bringing another for her to weave her spell over.
He’d spent the previous night and most of that morning concerned. No, his feelings were far closer to worry. Athena—sweet, kind, trusting Athena—was embarking on the marriage mart without so much as a strategy. The exasperating female did not even know what she wished for in a husband. Marriage was lifelong, permanent. The wrong sort of husband would be disastrous for her. She would be discontent at best, miserable at worst.
Seeing her happi
ly married would be hard enough. Having to watch a horrible marriage slowly devour her spirit would be sheer torture.
Sort through the bad apples, Adam had said. Steer her away from those unworthy of her. Harry had simply amended the edict. He would steer her away from those who would not make her happy. He would, as much as it would pain him to do so, help her find someone decent, at the very least.
But, heaven help him, he wasn’t about to deposit a paragon at her feet. He wasn’t nearly that masochistic.
Athena didn’t know what she wished for in a husband. Harry would simply help her formulate a list. A list of what she didn’t want.
He guided Mr. Howard, a slight acquaintance from one of his clubs, through the crowd toward Athena, silently chastising himself for ever agreeing to aid and abet Athena’s foray into the blasted auction for brides and grooms and marriages he could never truly be a part of.
“Your Grace,” Harry addressed Persephone with a very appropriate bow, something they were sure to remember in public, even if their interactions in private tended toward the informality one would expect of two people on terms not unlike siblings, “might I make known to you Mr. Howard.”
Persephone inclined her head in a show of condescending agreement. Harry very nearly laughed out loud. Adam had taught his wife well; she could dampen the pretensions of even the most determined of toad-eaters.
“Mr. Howard, I present to you Her Grace, the Duchess of Kielder.”
Harry actually heard Mr. Howard swallow thickly at the title connected to the kingdom’s most feared personage. He acquitted himself admirably, though, bowing as was expected and uttering something that resembled an expression of honor at the introduction.
Harry pressed forward, lest the poor man lose courage and back away before Athena had a chance to become acquainted with him. There would be no point in making the introductions if Athena did not have that opportunity.
Mr. Howard was presented to Miss Lancaster, and the appropriate inane comments were exchanged. Into the awkward silence that followed, Athena attempted a conversation.
Courting Miss Lancaster Page 2
