Why Dukes Say I Do by Manda Collins

Author:Manda Collins [Collins, Manda]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Romance
ISBN: 9781250023834
Amazon: 1250023831
Goodreads: 16160776
Publisher: St. Martin's
Published: 2013-07-01T04:00:00+00:00

Ten

“No, Ellie, turn your foot like this.” Belinda demonstrated the step for her sister. Much to everyone’s surprise, the girl who had little use for fashion or social graces had taken to dancing like a cat to cream.

The duke had been co-opted into the dance lessons, as had his friend Sir Lucien Blakemore.

Miss Nightingale had taken up a position at the pianoforte.

Now Isabella was watching as Ormonde, partnering Belinda, stood back as she demonstrated the step for her sister.

“That’s what I’m doing, Belinda.” Eleanor was, sadly, not quite as adept at dancing as her younger sister, and her frustration with the activity was beginning to show. “We may as well stop. I’m never going to be able to do this properly before the Palmers’ ball.”

“Do not give up so soon, Miss Eleanor,” coaxed Sir Lucien. “I have it on very good authority that the young men of the county are quite looking forward to dancing every set with you.”

The duke looked as if he wished to hunt down these young men and thrash them, but the other man’s words seemed to do the trick with Eleanor. She blushed prettily and asked, “Really? You aren’t just saying that?”

The baronet placed his hand over his heart. “On my honor, it’s the truth.”

“Don’t be so missish, Ellie,” her sister said with a roll of her eyes. “Of course they’ll want to dance with you. You’re prettier than either of the Green sisters and you won’t see them sitting out any of the dances.”

Sensing that a sisterly spat was imminent, Isabella interrupted. “I think you have mastered the polonaise for now, Eleanor. Why don’t we try the waltz?”

“Isn’t that a bit fast for the country?” Ormonde asked with a frown. He was clearly having some issues with his baby sister moving into the adult world.

Before Isabella could speak, Miss Nightingale said, “Your Grace, it is perfectly acceptable for a young lady to dance the waltz at a country ball. When she goes to London, of course, she will need permission from the patronesses of Almack’s, but here it will be quite unremarkable.”

“Miss Nightingale,” Isabella instructed, “will you please play a waltz? Sir Lucien and I will demonstrate.”

If either the duke or the governess objected to the notion, neither of them said it aloud. Miss Nightingale simply nodded, and the duke folded his arms across his chest, his mouth pursed in a grim line as he watched the couple.

Blakemore was an excellent dancer, and Isabella had to admit that it was not unpleasant to be held in such a handsome man’s arms. They twirled through the drawing room, where earlier the footmen had been asked to roll up the carpets for the impromptu lessons.

Isabella knew the precise moment when the baronet lost his concentration and missed a step. It was when Miss Nightingale coughed. It was discreet and barely audible over the sound of the pianoforte, but as soon as the noise pierced the air Isabella felt her partner stiffen and stumble.

He caught himself at

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