Page 32 of If the Duke Demands

Miranda tensed on his arm. When Sebastian glanced at her, the blush in her cheeks was gone, replaced by a pallid hue of pure nervous terror. But her smile was glued firmly in place, exactly as his mother had instructed. Even now, when she was terrified to the bone to be making her entrance, she was doing everything she could to please others, and his heart tugged for her. He understood that same pressure to please. But how on earth did Miranda do it, pleasing others while still being true to herself, while still keeping her love for life? He wished he knew, then maybe he could do it himself.

Hoping she wouldn’t faint before he could get her to the bottom of the stairs, he presented their invitations to the Master of Ceremonies. The garishly uniformed man, complete with white powdered wig and high heels, turned and stomped his long staff, then announced in a voice loud enough to cut through the noise of the crowd, “His Grace, Sebastian Carlisle, Duke of Trent…and Miss Miranda Hodgkins!”

He heard her gasp as the roomful of guests turned to stare at them as they stood poised at the top of the stairs before descending.

“Breathe,” he reminded her with a smile and a squeeze of her hand as they started forward.

Whispers rose through the ballroom below as he led her down, all the guests craning their necks to catch a glimpse for themselves of the new duke and the woman he was introducing this season. Thebeautifulwoman he was introducing, he thought with chagrin as the stares of the men in the crush turned interested.

“Salmon fishers,” he muttered irritably beneath his breath.

“Pardon?” She glanced at him, the color returning to her face as the next couple was announced and the attention of the room diverted from them.

“I said…so many well-wishers,” he lied.

He didn’t know if she believed him, but she was too nervous to press. Thankfully. The last thing he wanted to do tonight was explain Quinton’s skewed theory of skirt-chasing to her and make her even more wary about the quality of the quality.

By the time they reached the floor, she was breathing normally again, her body much more relaxed and her cheeks once more the vivacious pink he found so charming.

He led her to his mother where she waited at the side of the room and released her with a bow. “Miss Hodgkins.”

She lowered into a graceful curtsy. “Your Grace.”

He grimaced inwardly. For some reason he couldn’t name, it grated whenever Miranda reminded him of his title. When he was with her, he wanted only to be Sebastian. “Enjoy yourself,” he told her. “I’ll be back for the first dance.”

She nodded as new anxiousness flittered across her face. Tonight was her formal debut, and as a special favor from the Earl and Countess of St James, they would dance the opening set as one of only six couples, with the full attention of the room on them. But oddly enough, he was looking forward to it, and to being the man who partnered her for her first society dance.

He retreated with polite nods to his mother and sister, to make his way through the crush in search of his brothers.

He found them near the refreshments table with glasses of Madeira already in hand and with Quinn doing his charming best to convince one of the footmen to bring him a bottle of St James’s private reserve cognac. Sebastian helped himself to Quinn’s glass, knowing from the size of the crowd gathered around the table that it would take a quarter of an hour before he could secure one of his own.

“You’re in for a busy evening,” Quinn taunted, slapping Sebastian on the back. “With Miranda to nanny—”

“And all those ladies on your list tonotnanny,” Robert finished with a grin.

Sebastian raised the glass to take a large, welcomed swallow. “Tonight, I only need to secure dances, that’s all.” That would give him enough time with each lady to discover who piqued his interest enough for more serious pursuit.

Quinn laughed. “Where’s the fun in that?”

“This isn’t about fun,” Robert corrected with exaggerated earnestness, laying his arm across Quinn’s shoulders. “This is about Seb finding a wife.”

“Exactly,” Sebastian confirmed, wishing Quinn would have succeeded in getting the brandy. Tonight promised to be an excruciatingly long evening.

He glanced around the ballroom, and his eyes fell on Lady Jane Sheridan as she stood surrounded by a group of admirers. She looked decidedly regal in her gown of pastel pink satin and pearl-encrusted headband that held back her sable hair in a fashionable Grecian style. Her smile combined both a subdued pleasantry and a studied demureness that spoke to her good breeding.

Standing just behind Jane’s group of admirers, but clearly apart from them, Miranda shook with happy laughter over some teasing remark made to her by Thomas Matteson. Sebastian’s brow furrowed as he watched her sink into an exaggerated, giggling curtsy to the marquess. Decidedlynotsubdued, and not an inch of her demure.

“Ah, the lovely Lady Jane,” Robert mumbled as he followed Sebastian’s attention across the room.

Quinn craned his neck with open curiosity. “Is she to be your duchess, then?”

“I haven’t decided,” he answered, tearing his gaze away from Miranda and back to the earl’s daughter. But Jane was definitely at the top of his list, and he needed to make his way to her side before all her dances were taken. With Jane, he wanted a waltz. If he intended to court her—and so far, she was not only this season’s Incomparable but his own as well—then he wanted time alone with her before he made his intentions known. “But she has all the qualities I’m seeking in a wife. Good breeding, respected reputation, a family with political influence—”

Robert and Quinn broke into laughter. Sebastian shot them a cutting look that quelled their amusement. The last thing he needed tonight was interference from his brothers.

Or from Miranda. His gaze once more drifted to her, just as she flirtatiously flitted her fan at a young dandy who had requested a dance. His gut tightened with fresh irritation.

“It’s a shame, really—” Robert began.