The Duke’s Darling Debutante by Maggie Dallen

4

Tabetha sighed. She knew what must be done. But here she’d hoped to make it through one ball without humiliating herself. She lifted her gaze heavenward. Apparently, that was asking for too much.

Her poor family. Of course, they’d love her anyway, but still. It would be nice to not humiliate them just once. Her success, or lack thereof, had some bearing on her sister’s future prospects. And this dance, it could have been as His Grace said—a message to other suitors that she was desirable, worthy.

But the moment the first notes filled the air, Tabetha had known what she must do.

There was only one thing to do, and she knew without a doubt that it would be up to her. After all, a duke likely didn’t have much experience being a bungling embarrassment. She, on the other hand, had a lifetime of mishaps to call upon.

Even so... She let out another weary sigh as she and the duke began the first few steps of the blasted leaping waltz. A leaping waltz! Of all the bad luck.

But one look at the proud set of the duke’s chin had her straightening her shoulders, determination replacing her temporary bout of self-pity. The man had been kind enough to take a turn about the room with her, and even asked for another dance, when they both knew very well the first had been an epic disaster.

She owed him this, at the very least.

And so she cried out as if in pain and then threw herself onto the floor. The other dancers all stopped, of course, and a small crowd hovered around her. But it was the duke who glowered down at her, concern etched across his handsome, stern features.

She nearly laughed at his concern. Did he not realize she was feigning an injury? He reached a hand down to help her to her feet. “Lady Tabetha, are you all right?”

Apparently, he did not realize. She would never presume to know the duke so very well, but there could be no doubt that his concern was genuine. And that was sweet, really. She’d never had a duke fretting over her before.

So perhaps she leaned into him a little more than strictly necessary as she let him help her to her feet and then guide her from the dance floor. She smiled at the stricken dancers as they parted for her, as she assured them that she was fine. Just turned an ankle, that was all.

She couldn’t see her sisters through the crowd, and it was likely for the best. They’d know she was acting. She truly wasn’t a great actress, not nearly so good as Clarissa. But apparently, she was good enough to fool the ton. She glanced up—and a duke.

“Come, let’s find you a place to rest,” he murmured.

His voice was low and gentle, and his body was warm where it was pressed against hers. His arm around her shoulders was strong. Protective. And besides, it wasn’t every day that a lady got to play the role of damsel in distress. It was even rarer that one was rescued so spectacularly by a duke.

Even if the rescue wasn’t exactly necessary.

The crowd parted for them as he led her toward a far corner where a low settee was nestled in an alcove. He set her down gently, as though she might break. She smiled up at him. Yes, he was far too serious, but he could be quite chivalrous when he wanted to be.

He was frowning down at her. “Is your ankle swollen? Shall I fetch a doctor or—”

“Oh no.” She waved aside his concern. A crowd of elderly matrons were watching them closely, but she already spotted her sisters crossing the room. “I shall be just fine, I assure you.”

“Are you certain?” His brows drew together as he eyed the tip of her slipper as if he could see past her crinoline and lace to the injury beneath. “I could arrange for—”

“Your Grace.” She couldn’t quite keep the laughter from her voice as she interrupted. His gaze met hers and she smiled. “I am not truly hurt.”

He stared at her for a long moment. So long that she was compelled to fill the silence. “I was only pretending, you see.”

“Pretending,” he echoed.

“Yes.” She fidgeted on the settee. How long did she have to sit here as though her foot still ached? She craned her neck to see where her sisters had gotten to. It seemed as though they were intercepted by one of Evelyn’s friends. Oh dear. The last thing she needed was to cause a scandal for having a private tête-à-tête with the duke. Not that they were alone. They had an audience all around them. But still…

“Evelyn will murder me,” she muttered.

“Pardon?”

She blinked up at the duke. “I’m exaggerating, of course. She won’t truly end my life. Just give me a lecture, that’s all.” Her brow wrinkled in confusion. “Though what is the protocol for a situation such as this?”

He opened his mouth, but she wasn’t done.

“When one trips, I mean. Or pretends to trip, rather. What should one do? Surely I couldn’t just stay there on the floor until my brother or Evelyn arrived to pick me up, now could I?”

He didn’t respond.

“No, of course not. I had to be escorted off the dance floor, didn’t I?”

He arched his brows.

“What is it?” she asked. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

To her surprise, his lips...twitched. She wasn’t sure how else to describe it. That firm line she was starting to be familiar with was twitching at the corners, rather like he was suppressing—

A laugh burst out of him, so unexpected and so delightful, she found herself laughing as well, even though… “You are laughing at me, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” he said, a smile still lingering on his face. “But only because you are incredibly diverting.”

“Diverting.” She rolled the word on her tongue. It was by far the nicest way she’d heard herself described since coming to London. She gave him a smile. “Thank you.”

He tipped his head. “You’re welcome.” His dark eyes still danced with laughter as he added, “Though I believe I should be the one thanking you.”

Her brows knit together once more. “Whatever for?”

He glanced meaningfully toward the dance floor and for no reason she could possibly explain, she was suffused with shyness.

Tabetha was not shy. Nor was she demure or docile. But there was no denying the heat that was creeping up her neck or the way she couldn’t quite meet his gaze. “Nonsense,” she said. “You do not owe me thanks. I was merely doing what had to be done.”

“Nonsense.” His voice held a note of amusement as he mimicked her. “You saved me from embarrassment by embarrassing yourself. And I...I am very grateful for your kindness.”

Her lips tugged upward and she had to swallow down a nervous laugh. His way of talking was so serious and so very stilted. Admitting he was grateful sounded rusty and a touch awkward. But then again, she supposed a man like the duke wasn’t used to being indebted to someone.

He likely wasn’t used to being saved by a lady, either.

Oh drat. She pinched her lips shut, but it was too late. The realization that she had come to the rescue of the great and mighty Duke of Walton had laughter bubbling up in her chest, and any second now it would spill out from between her lips. She squeezed her eyes shut, attempting to control the urge.

“You can laugh, you know.” The duke’s voice was low and knowing. “You have an exceptional laugh.”

She blinked in surprise. She did?

“And besides, attempting to not laugh looks painful,” he added.

She lost the battle with laughter at that. “It is rather painful,” she said through her giggles. “But I’m used to it. The urge to laugh always strikes at the most inopportune times.”

His brows hitched up and his eyes were soft with amusement. “Like when?”

And that was how she came to be telling the duke the humiliating, yet humorous tale of her bout of laughter in the midst of a funeral. “...but it turned out they were talking about a pig—”

“Tabetha?” Evelyn’s voice cut through her lively story, and Tabetha stopped short, only to find that her hands were flailing.

Drat. She’d been working so hard to keep her hands demurely clasped together when she spoke, as Evelyn taught her, but somehow, they’d gotten away from her. Again.

Mariah, Clarissa, and Darius were soon crowding around them as well, and Darius was glaring down at her feet. “Are you hurt? Do you need a doctor?”

“Don’t be silly,” Clarissa said. “She didn’t really hurt herself.” She turned to Tabetha. “Did you?”

Tabetha shook her head. Of course her sisters were on to her. Truth be told, this wasn’t the first time she’d feigned an injury to avoid an unpleasant scene. Nor was it the second time...or even the third.

She bit her lip, her expression contrite as she looked up at her family. “I’m sorry I worried you.” She gave Evelyn an apologetic wince. “And I apologize for any embarrassment I caused.”

Evelyn waved her words aside. “Nonsense. I’m just happy you’re not injured.”

A round of looks were exchanged. Silent communications that were taking place all around the duke and about the duke.

Each and every one of her family members no doubt wanted to ask her why she’d pretended to injure herself rather than dance with the most powerful man in the room and why the duke was tending to her. But unlike Tabetha, the rest of her family understood tact.

Clarissa’s eyes were dancing with laughter as she met Tabetha’s gaze.

Well, perhaps not Clarissa. But where Clarissa lacked in tact, she more than made up for with her clever mind. She’d likely already pieced together what was going on here. Or enough, at least, to know that she ought to keep her mouth shut.

Evelyn was already assessing the situation as well. “Perhaps we’d best show the world that you are recovered with a turn about the room.”

Tabetha came to her feet. No one was naïve enough to believe that any of the party guests were truly worried about Tabetha’s injured ankle. But if her sister-in-law believed that taking a turn about the room would help to keep her reputation intact, then so be it. “Very well, let us walk.”

She turned to the duke and found herself holding her breath in anticipation. Would he join them? Would he offer to escort her again?

That flickering hope was extinguished with a short bow as he made to take his leave of them. She kept her smile fixed. It would not do for anyone to see her disappointment. After all, it wasn’t as though she truly thought the duke was interested in her. She might have made him laugh, but no one in her right mind would believe that being laughed at by a gentleman meant that he cared for her.

Silly girl.

She shook off that disappointment and made her smile even wider so that by the time he was done excusing himself to her brother and Evelyn, she was positively beaming.

His gaze turned to her and he blinked.

Perhaps her grin was a bit over the top. “Thank you for the dance, Your Grace. Or rather, the almost dance.”

He laughed softly. “It was my pleasure.”

The others were listening and she didn’t need to be told that he would prefer she not air his personal business. She met his gaze and held it. “I hope you...take care of yourself.”

He gave a nod in understanding. “I will. And thank you.”

As he walked away, her insides seemed to deflate. Why did she get the sense that this was the last time she’d see him?

Mariah slipped her arm into the crook of Tabetha’s. “Come, Tabetha. Let us walk.”

Mariah’s sweet, quiet company was exactly what she needed, and she gave her sister a grateful smile as they began to walk the edges of the room.

For the purpose of being seen.

The duke’s voice was in her head as they walked, and she was more grateful than ever that she was with Mariah, who wouldn’t pester her with questions.

To be seen. That was why women rode in the park, and it was why they took a turn about the room. And the duke had helped her reputation immensely tonight by letting her be seen on his arm.

He’d shown her favor—twice. Even if it had ended badly both times.

She glanced about the room, ignoring the questioning looks and the whispers her family always seemed to garner. Lady Ainsworth and her daughter Charlotte were staring at them as they whispered, and a gaggle of girls around them burst into giggles.

But Tabetha couldn’t bring herself to care. Her gaze had already moved on, seeking out a certain tall, dark, and handsome duke.

Had he left for the evening already? Or was he off conversing with some other young lady? One who knew how to keep her mouth shut and who wouldn’t even think of causing a spectacle on the dance floor?

She didn’t realize she’d sighed until Mariah squeezed her arm tightly. “He’ll be back, Tabetha,” Mariah said softly. “I’m sure of it.”

Tabetha flashed her sister a smile. Was she? Tabetha wasn’t. But she hoped her sister was right. And that hope...well, that hope was disturbing.

Tabetha had no misguided notions about the way she was viewed by society. She might be the sister of an earl, but she was not fit for a duke. She did not need the ton to tell her that. She ought to squelch this fluttery sensation in her belly that had her hoping Mariah was right and that this wasn’t the end of his attentions.

She was drawn to him, she could admit that. He was striking, handsome, and so...everything she was not. So serious and so very proper. It made her want to tease him until he laughed. His stoicism was like a challenge to that part of her that loved to make people smile and to brighten their days.

She’d seen him walking toward the steps earlier tonight and she’d known she should ignore him. She’d known she should leave him in peace, but she hadn’t been able to especially when he’d frozen, looking pained. Ridiculous, but she’d had the distinct impression that he’d needed her.

She worried her lower lip as she replayed his actions—from earlier this evening and at the last ball.

His injury explained some of his odd tendencies. The tightness around his mouth. The way he’d winced when they’d waltzed. Perhaps he hadn’t disliked her so much as she’d thought. Perhaps she’d misread his pain for disdain. After all, if he’d truly been horrified by her incessant chatter and her lack of decorum, why would he seek her out again at tonight’s ball?

Pieces were falling into place. But the more she pieced together, the more holes she seemed to discover in the overall puzzle that was the Duke of Walton. He’d made it clear that he was singling her out...but why?

Was it possible that he was drawn to her as she was to him?

She clapped a hand over her mouth as a giggle threatened to escape and she met Mariah’s curious gaze.

She really oughtn’t get her hopes up about a duke.

But she was a little afraid...it was too late.