Free Between the Duke and the Deep Blue Sea by Sophia Nash Page B

she could say another word. “We can’t have all of you standing about while Tatiana makes her curtsies. It will take all night. I say, Isabelle, won’t you be so kind as to oversee the tea tray while Taty meets the other guests?”
    With that, a small horde of females in the salon gathered about Roxanne to quickly do their duty before concentrating on the main task of prioritizing their efforts to snag one of the four dukes in the room. Their parents followed suit.
    Of course there were far too many young ladies present. Alex’s gaze bounced to Lady Pamela Hopkins who he had heard was a hardened gambler in a dainty package. At least her fortune was such that it would take at least a decade for her to run through it. Then there was Lady Katherine Leigh, who apparently liked horses more than gentlemen. Her red-haired sister, Lady Judith Leigh, was all giggles and no conversation, according to his great-aunt. Lady Susan Moore was very pretty, just like a doll. She would do if it were not for the lisp, which he understood she affected on purpose in the odd style of the last century.
    The only real danger in the salon was in the form of Lady Christine Saveron. There appeared not to be a single defect in her form or in her manner. And his great aunt had spent no less than a quarter of an hour privately detailing all the reasons she was perfect for him, including her parents who appeared equally refined and gracious. Indeed, her mother was French, and her father, English. Mémé had already besieged him with a seating chart that foisted the girl on him at almost every occasion.
    Candover sidled up beside him, still fingering his looking glass. “Your third cousin, four times removed, eh?”
    “Yes. Great-grandmother Mildred’s great-granddaughter.”
    Candover removed a handkerchief and rubbed his looking glass. “Just assure me she is not your great mistress.”
    “I take offense at your suggestion,” Alex replied. “I should call you out. I should—” He made a halfhearted motion to remove a glove in the age-old tradition of slapping it on another gentleman’s face.
    Candover put a hand on his arm to stop him. “Oh, give over. Look, she shouldn’t be here. There should be no distractions from our primary purpose. She’s not high enough in the instep nor are her pockets deep enough—even if she is the most intriguing lady present.”
    “You were much more entertaining in London.”
    “And you were far less. Now, see here. Just do your duty, and choose one of these rich chits as soon as decently possible.”
    “Easy for you to say,” Alex said, under his breath, “since Prinny let you off the hook to mourn your furious fiancée.”
    Candover’s face turned to granite, but he refused to rise to the bait. “Look at Sussex and Barry. They know their duty.”
    Sure enough, the two other dukes had allowed the buzzing horde of young ladies and their smiling parents to besiege them.
    And Roxanne? She was near the tea tray with Mémé and Isabelle, who Kress caught staring intently at Candover.
    Hmmm. He had always wondered about Isabelle. She was the only female who was a duchess in her own right. The unusual Letters Patent granting the duchy allowed for a female to inherit the title should the Duke of March have no male heirs. And Isabelle had had no siblings. She also had no eyes for anyone except Candover. He glanced at the infamously cool duke and wondered if the man realized the state of affairs. It was worth a test.
    “You’re absolutely right,” Alex murmured. “I know I can confide in you, Candover, since we’re both on the same wrong side of the Prince Regent’s graces. I’ve actually been thinking the matter over quite a bit. Do you think the Duchess of March would have me? It would be killing two birds with one stone, don’t you think?”
    Candover nearly scorched him with a disdainful glare. “I should have guessed you’d try to nick a cradle.”
    “Oh, come, come. She’s of age, is she