Chapter 4
The first grand ball to launch Alexander’s annual Christmastide festivities was not off to a roaring start. Or even a lightly melodious start.
He had hired two talented brothers from London to provide musical accompaniment at the pianoforte for the duration of the party, but the gentlemen had been delayed first by snow, and now by a bout of influenza.
The bench at the pianoforte sat empty.
Guests milled about the perimeter of the room, chatting and sipping wine, and casting occasional glances at the freshly buffed and conspicuously unoccupied dance floor.
Alexander turned to ensure the refreshment table was freshly stocked.
Miss Finch stepped into his path with her cousin Lady Gertrude held captive by one arm.
“Is the dancing about to begin?” asked Miss Finch.
“No.” Alexander sighed. “We haven’t a pianist.”
Miss Finch sent a dubious glance about the crowded ballroom. “All of these highly accomplished ladies, and not one of them can play the pianoforte?”
“I’m certain they are all competent musicians,” Alexander said quickly. He had no idea if this was true, but she seemed certain enough for the both of them. “But they are also guests who came here to dance. I cannot ask them to—”
“I’ll do it.” Lady Gertrude jerked her interlocked arm free from her cousin’s.
Miss Finch looked alarmed. “Gertie, no. You’re to have the first—”
But Lady Gertrude was half sprinting, half sliding across the freshly waxed floor. Her fingers were on the ivory keys even before her derrière touched the wooden bench.
The first notes of a popular country dance burst jauntily from the pianoforte.
In seconds, delighted guests clogged the dance floor, their lively patterns obstructing Lady Gertrude from view altogether.
“Thank you,” Alexander said, and meant it. “You two have saved the party.”
“Nothing so noble.” Miss Finch sent a dark glance across the dance floor. “Lady Gertrude was saving herself.”
“She’s very talented.”
The blithe compliment had been automatic, but when he paused to really listen, Alexander realized it was more than true. Lady Gertrude was every bit as skilled as the famous musicians he had intended to feature. It was astonishing.
“She’s not showing off,” Miss Finch said. “She’s hiding, the inconsiderate scamp.”
“Hiding?” Alexander repeated. “On stage in a ballroom?”
“Gertie disappears into her music every chance she gets. She could have been a celebrated pianist if she hadn’t been born a lady, or if her father were less of a—” Miss Finch cleared her throat.
“That is to say, Lady Gertrude is accomplished in all things. She could manage a dukedom just as well as she makes music.”
“Subtle,” he murmured.
“Is there any reason to be?” Miss Finch lifted a shoulder unapologetically. “Everyone under this roof knows this year’s party is less Christmastide and more a Duchess Derby. My money is on Lady Gertrude.”
He arched his brows. “I thought proper ladies didn’t gamble.”
“I’m not in the running,” Miss Finch reminded him. “I’m as likely to dance atop a piano as play one. I would make a dreadful duchess. But I can help you find the right one.”
He frowned. “I thought Lady Gertrude was the right one?”
“If you do think that, then my work here is over. But if you’re still deciding, it is Gertie’s wish that I help you make a sound choice.
Just as she wouldn’t wish to be trapped in an unhappy marriage, nor does she wish a poor match on you.
I know the foibles and the families of every young lady in this room.
I’ve watched them all for years. If you would like a lieutenant, I’m yours until Twelfth Night. ”
He stared at her. “This was Lady Gertrude’s idea?”
“She insisted most vexingly.”
Miss Finch did not look gratified.
“It’s very... kind,” he admitted. “Thoughtful and logical, indicative of a clever mind and the ability to think further than oneself and the present moment.”
“Mm,” said Miss Finch. “Almost as if she’s perfect duchess material.”
He narrowed his eyes. “You’d match me to someone other than your cousin?”
She pressed her lips together with obvious indecision and then sighed. “Like Gertie, I have no wish for either of you to be miserable for the rest of your lives. If what’s best is for you to choose one of the other young ladies, then yes. I would help you make the most fitting match.”
“Hm,” said Alexander.
Almost as if Miss Finch was every bit as compassionate, logical, and forward-thinking.
He would not be surprised to discover Lady Gertrude had learned the traits by looking up to her cousin.
“Very well,” he said. “I accept your assistance in this matter.”
Miss Finch looked as though he had crushed her last dream.
“I figured you would,” she said glumly. “It would’ve been so much easier if you’d simply fallen in love with Gertie at first sight.”
“She’s very pretty,” he said automatically.
To be honest, all of the debutantes were pretty.
He supposed Miss Finch would say that was one of their necessary accomplishments. Their pastel gowns were flattering, their extravagant hair arrangements stunning, their movements in time to the country-dance rhythmic and graceful.
“I see what you mean.” Miss Finch’s gaze swung to the dance floor. “It must take mental fortitude not to fall in love with all of them at once.”
Alexander’s heart clenched.
It had not happened to her.
She’d looked just like this once, or whatever the equivalent had been twelve years ago. He couldn’t recall the fabric colors and hair dressings of the day, but Alexander had no doubt Miss Finch would have copied them perfectly.
She was outrageous now, but back then, she’d been...
Unremarkable.
He couldn’t recall a single thing about her from those days, despite the probability that they’d been at the same crushes dozens if not hundreds of times.
Then again, he hadn’t been looking. Twelve years ago, he’d been an adolescent still adjusting to the role of duke, and the last thing he’d needed was to complicate his life with a bride.
And now here he was, presiding over a Duchess Derby in a ballroom awash with exceptional choices... spending his limited time at the side of a woman who would not do at all.
She wasn’t in the running.
Miss Finch was his lieutenant.
Of course it was fine for a general to discuss strategy with his lieutenant.
Her gown was a bold purple, her blond tresses twisted into a careless bun rather than bedecked with curls.
He supposed saving time with one’s toilette was one of the advantages of being a spinster.
The bold colors and unfussy hair suited her. The tiny laugh lines at the corners of her sparkling blue eyes did not remind him of her age, but rather evoked her infectious laugh and boisterous spirit.
Miss Finch probably would dance on a piano.
She probably had danced on a piano.
Alexander could not help but think he’d perhaps attended all of the wrong parties.
“Tell me,” she said. “Which woman has caught your interest?”
“Er...” he replied eloquently.
Miss Finch raised her eyebrows as if she’d wait patiently all night for Alexander to help her help him.
“You said Lady Gertrude is hiding?” There. Her cousin was a perfectly safe topic. “What is she hiding from?”
“You,” she answered without hesitation. “Gertie’s shy. She’s terrified of you.”
“Me?” he sputtered. “I’m not frightening.”
“Go and prove it to her.” Miss Finch smiled innocently. “I promise any given debutante in this room will be delighted to show off her skill at the pianoforte, if you’d like to take this opportunity to invite Gertie to be your first dance partner of the Yuletide.”
Diabolical logic.
“Very well played,” he said with admiration. “I thought you were supposed to be my lieutenant, not Lady Gertrude’s.”
“How can you determine which young woman is the right one, if you don’t come to know them all?” Miss Finch pointed out. “You might as well begin with Gertie as anyone. I’ll even spread a rumor that you’d like to see how the others stack up at the pianoforte.”
“Wait,” he said, but of course Miss Finch did not.
By the time Lady Gertrude played the final notes of the country-dance, a queue had already started to form behind the bench with other young ladies eager to display their talent with music.
Alexander arrived at the dais just as the next melody began.
“What lucky happenstance,” said Miss Finch. “It’s a waltz.”
“You told her to play a waltz,” said Lady Gertrude.
Miss Finch shoved her into Alexander’s arms. “Can’t talk. Must join the other spinsters in the shadows. Have a lovely dance, you two.”
She vanished into the crowd.
There was nothing left to do but waltz.
“Your cousin is terrifying,” he told Lady Gertrude.
She brightened. “Cynthia Louise will be delighted to hear that. She always says, if you can’t please someone, scare the pants off of them instead.”
“That’s something she always says?” he repeated, then replayed her words in his mind. “She thinks she doesn’t please me?”
“She knows she doesn’t please you,” Lady Gertrude said.
“If she pleased you, you would have married her years ago, before she was a spinster. Cynthia Louise says she doubts you even remember her at her come-out. She says the only reason you invite her to your Christmas parties is because your sister makes you.”
All of that was... uncomfortably true.
“Belle can’t ‘make’ me do anything,” he said instead. “I’m a duke, and she’s—”
“Not a spinster any longer.” Lady Gertrude’s eyes shone. “I just heard the news. How lucky to have found a love match!”
If only the rest of the beau monde would view it the same way.
“My sister wasn’t a spinster,” Alexander protested. “She was a... late bloomer.”
“Then Cynthia Louise isn’t a spinster either,” Lady Gertrude said in satisfaction. “She’s a flower, just like Belle.”
Very neatly done. He couldn’t argue without undermining his own assertion.
“Whose lieutenant are you?” he asked suspiciously.
“Cynthia Louise’s.” Lady Gertrude lowered her voice. “Don’t tell her. She doesn’t know.”
“Why does she need one?” he asked. “She seems quite capable.”