Tall, Duke, and Dangerous (Hazards of Dukes #2) - Megan Frampton Page 0,102

Figure out which minor European prince is Caroline’s father.

“Jane! Lavinia!”

Their mother stood at the doorway, glaring disapprovingly at them as she simultaneously gave Percy a warm smile.

It was a remarkable talent.

“Yes, Mother?” Lavinia replied.

“You should be dressing for the evening.” Lady Scudamore glanced at the clock in the corner. “You only have three hours!” She advanced into the room as Lavinia resisted rolling her eyes too obviously.

“They don’t need that much time to look lovely,” Percy said, so obviously exerting his charm, Lavinia nearly snorted.

Percy was not, of course, Lady Scudamore’s child, but she treated him better than she did her own children. Or at least better than she did her younger daughter. Lavinia thought it was due to Percy’s appearance and that he was male.

It was entirely unfair.

“You don’t need that much time, Percy dear, but I’ve heard the Duke of Hasford will be attending the Raddlestons’ party this evening.” Lady Scudamore pursed her lips as she regarded Jane, whose anxious expression had returned. “And there is only one reason he would be going out. He has been extraordinarily reclusive. He must be searching for a bride.” She stepped forward to slide her finger down Jane’s cheek. “And you are lovely enough to be a duchess.”

Lavinia glanced between Jane and her mother, noting the panicked look in her sister’s eyes as well as her mother’s determined gaze.

Oh dear.

“What gown should I wear, Mother?” Lavinia asked.

Not that she wanted her mother’s opinion, but she did want her mother to stop focusing so intently on Jane. Her sister was too delicate to handle the pressure, and there wouldn’t be much that Percy could do in this particular situation—the reason their mother wanted her daughters to marry well was because elevating their status would ameliorate the scandal of having Percy and Caroline living with them in the first place. There was only so much a large amount of money and the queen’s favor could do, after all.

“You should choose whatever you want,” her mother replied, clearly dismissing the topic as unworthy of her attention. “Jane, you should wear the white satin and I will lend you my diamond earrings.” She gave a happy sigh. “A duchess! It would be all I’ve ever dreamt of!”

Lavinia took Jane’s hand, tugging her toward the door. Jane stumbled as though frozen in place.

“The white satin then,” Lavinia echoed. “We’ll just go start, shall we?”

“The Duke of Hasford,” the butler announced.

Thaddeus paused at the entrance to the ballroom, glancing around at all the people who were currently staring at him.

If there was one thing he hated most about being a duke, it was that everyone gawked whenever he appeared in public. That would likely ease if he appeared in public more often, but that would mean appearing in public more often, and he had little tolerance for frivolity.

A small voice in his head said perhaps he would be less rigid if he had more tolerance for frivolity, but he quashed that quickly. He couldn’t manufacture a tolerance he didn’t have.

Another impetus for getting married—he could settle at home with his wife, tending to his business affairs and working on begetting an heir.

Literally mixing business with pleasure.

He stepped into the room, schooling his features to look blandly polite as opposed to annoyed. He was here for a purpose, he reminded himself. He didn’t want to scare off any potential duchesses with his stern face, which his soldiers had assured him was terrifying.

“Good evening, Your Grace.” A woman fluttered up to him, the feathers in her hair nodding gently as she moved her head. “I am Baroness Raddleston, and this is my husband, the baron.” A gentleman appeared at her shoulder, both of them wearing exceedingly pleased expressions. Likely because they landed a duke at their party, not because they were particularly delighted to see him.

Although to be fair this was the first time they had met, so why would it be otherwise?

Perhaps the baron would prove to be a marvelous friend, and the two of them would discover they had common interests such as—well, damn. He didn’t have any interests. Or hadn’t allowed himself to have any because there was too much work to do.

He made a mental note to add “develop interests” to his list. And “frivolity.”

The Raddlestons’ ballroom was elegantly decorated. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling every six feet or so, and the lit candles cast golden shadows throughout the room, lending it a certain mystery. The servants, garbed in unobtrusive attire and holding silver platters,