Project Duchess - Sabrina Jeffries Page 0,51

get through the nonsense of a ball—in any country—is to make certain only to dance with those gentlemen who suit her best.”

“You mean, the rich and handsome ones,” Sheridan teased her.

“I’m more concerned with avoiding the toplofty, arrogant ones like my brothers,” she quipped.

“Hey!” Sheridan protested. “Since when am I arrogant?” “Can we get on with this?” Grey said impatiently. “I want to hear whatever nonsense Gwyn proposes.”

“You see?” Gwyn said. “Arrogant.”

“Bored, more like.” Grey pulled out his pocket watch. “We don’t have all day, you know.”

Gwyn stuck her tongue out at him. “Feel free to leave anytime. We don’t really need either of you for this part. Why don’t you and Sheridan go . . . brush up on your lordly manners or crush a peasant under your boot or something?”

“Sorry, Sis, I don’t know any peasants.” With a wink at their mother, Grey added, “And we have no intention of missing this.”

Sheridan laid his arms across the back of the settee. “Not when we’re about to hear the age-old secrets of womankind.”

Gwyn glared at him. “Now you’re being an utter bloody arse.”

“Gwyn!” her mother cried, truly shocked this time.

“Sorry, Mama,” Gwyn mumbled. “But honestly, Bea, you need to ignore my brothers.”

“I always ignore insolence,” Beatrice said tartly, garnering a smile from Gwyn. “You were saying?”

“The key is to manage things so the gentleman never guesses that you maneuvered him into not dancing with you. Now, let’s pretend that I am a gentleman approaching you on the dance floor.” Pitching her voice lower, Gwyn walked up to Beatrice and said, “I hope you’re having a lovely evening, madam.”

Before Beatrice could even answer, Grey cut in. “Good God, if that’s how you think men sound, I’m afraid to hear what you think we’d say.” He came over to stand between his sister and Beatrice. “You do it like this.” He bowed politely. “Miss Wolfe, would you do me the honor of standing up with me for this set?”

“No, no, you’re missing the point!” Gwyn cried. “Once you say the words, she can’t refuse you. She has to make it so you don’t get the chance to ask.”

“Oh, right.” Grey shook his head. “What a stupid exercise.”

“Says the duke who can’t be refused,” Beatrice put in.

As he raised an eyebrow, Gwyn said, “If you think it’s stupid, Grey, go away and let me handle it.” She made a shooing motion at him before turning back to Beatrice. “There are plenty of things you can do to stave a man off. As soon as he comes toward you, you can erupt into a coughing fit that will surely make him change direction. No man wants to risk catching a cold from you.”

“Exactly,” Sheridan said, “so the coughing fit will also make all the other gentlemen avoid you.”

“If they’re so easily turned away,” Gwyn said, “then we don’t want them.”

“I agree,” Beatrice said, determined to show solidarity with Gwyn.

Gwyn went on. “You can also ask him to fetch you a glass of punch in hopes that someone else asks you to dance while he’s gone.”

“That seems mean,” Beatrice said.

“Oh, trust me,” Grey said, “once he realizes you’re dancing with another, he’ll leave the punch for you and go off to seek better prey. I’ve seen Vanessa pull that maneuver on any number of gentlemen.”

“Vanessa is an heiress, Grey,” Sheridan called out from the settee. “She can get away with far more than Bea can.”

Gwyn ignored him. “You can send the fellow on other errands: Ask him to fetch your chaperone if she’s out of sight or fetch a shawl you left across the room earlier for that purpose. Sending him on errands makes him feel like a knight helping his lady. But if you happen to get asked to dance while he’s away, it’s not your fault, right?”

“If I were that fellow,” Grey said, leveling his gaze on Beatrice, “I wouldn’t be put off so easily.”

Beatrice tamped down the thrill his words gave her. She couldn’t imagine trying most of Gwyn’s tactics, anyway. “Perhaps I should simply hide under the furniture if I see an unsuitable fellow approaching,” she said glumly.

A new voice came from the doorway. “That tactic doesn’t even work with the dogs, duckie.”

Beatrice whirled to find her brother standing there. “Joshua! What are you doing here?”

With a pained smile, he ignored the others to limp toward her, leaning on his cane. “I thought I should see what these lessons in preparing you for society entailed. And if you’re contemplating hiding

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