Or so Meg vaguely recalled. At twenty-seven years old and without a dowry—thank you Uncle Dermot—she was not often asked to waltz. Country dances, certainly, but not waltzes. Not without the duke forcing a gentleman’s hand, which was why she usually visited the ladies retiring room during this particular dance. It was easier all around.
But she wasn’t about to leave that poor girl in Eaton’s clutches.
There wasn’t time to warn her. Meg gave serious consideration to smacking the earl in the face with her bag full of almonds. It would make such a satisfying thwack when it hit him in the nose. There might even be blood.
Instead, Meg took a step closer to the girl and then let her spine loosen as she swooned. She kept her eyes slitted open so she wouldn’t hit her head when she landed. And so that she was properly aimed. She needed to cause a disruption near enough as to make it awkward for Eaton to ask for a dance. The girl’s mother gasped loudly before Meg even touched the floor, her hand artfully outstretched. No use injuring herself with a face plant.
But the ground seemed awfully far away. Shouldn’t she have landed by now?
And then it became obvious that she wasn’t going to land at all.
Strong arms caught her easily. Her eyes fluttered open of their own accord. She shut them again abruptly.
The Duke of Thorncroft had caught her.
She nearly cursed. His arms were warm and solid as they tightened around her. He smelled of frankincense and cedar soap. The girl’s mother fluttered around them, her silk ribbons tickling Meg’s ear. “Poor dear. I’ll fetch a vinaigrette. I’ve just the one. Vinegar with lavender and mustard.”
“Bollocks to that,” Meg muttered before letting her eyes pop open.
The Duke of Thorncroft bit back a chuckle.
“No need,” Meg said, a little louder. “It was only a small swoon.”
His mouth quirked with amusement. “So I see.” He still held her close, draped over one arm. It was disorienting. And oddly thrilling. She licked her lips though she didn’t know why. His gaze fell on her mouth. She nearly blushed like a newly-presented debutante. Ridiculous.
“Let me up,” she said briskly. There. That was much more in character.
“Oh, you’ve revived her, Your Grace.” The girl’s mother sighed as if she might also swoon. Meg might have accidentally started a fashion. Thorncroft would have to grow another set of arms.
And while being caught up in a duke’s embrace was all very courteous and romantic, she’d never get free of him now. At least Eaton had stalked away towards the card room, his throat mottled red. He did not like it when plans shifted without his permission.
“If you’re faint from hunger,” the duke murmured in her ear as he pulled her back into a standing position. “I know where you might find some almonds.”
His summer eyes twinkled. Oh no. He was handsome as the devil, and he had a sense of humor. She was going to be trampled by a horde of debutantes before she’d gotten her feet properly under her. “Thank you, Your Grace,” she said politely. “For your assistance.”
“You have been the most entertaining part of this evening, I assure you. Are you quite well?”
“Perfectly.”
“I’m relieved to hear it. Because now it’s your turn to save me.”
“I’m sorry?”
There was something brittle to his smile. Something self-deprecating and faintly horrified. She glanced over her shoulder and as predicted, a disconcerting number of ladies pressed closer and closer, fans fluttering, cheeks fetchingly pink. “I suppose you should have let me hit the floor.”
His laugh was strangled. “Help me.”
She let herself go limp again, but only slightly. He caught her again. “I don’t think that’s going to do it.”
She sighed. “I expect not.” The ladies might be upside down from her current vantage point, but it was obvious they had not been deterred. It would take a cannon to dislodge them now that the new duke had proven himself to be chivalrous as well as handsome. It was almost enough to make up for his dubious background. “I need air,” Meg added, loudly.
“You sound far too healthy,” he scolded under his breath.
“Loud, you mean.”
“That too.”
“I’m starting to feel much improved,” she shot back warningly. “Sprightly, even.”
“I don’t know what they do to almond thieves. I shouldn’t risk it, were I you.”
She wrinkled her nose. Even though she did not know him, she knew perfectly well that he was teasing. “You may escort me to the terrace, if you please.”