Tall, Duke, and Dangerous (Hazards of Dukes #2) - Megan Frampton Page 0,80

“Shouldn’t we be discussing this evening?” Her eyes sparkled in anticipation.

They were planning to attend a ball given by a not-so-polite member of Society, which meant that Octavia would be completely welcome. Ana Maria wanted to go because she was tired of having to dance with her multitude of suitors, all of whom talked obliquely about their hopes for a complacent wife with a large dowry.

Ana Maria was always tempted to tell them that Thaddeus had changed his mind about her dowry to time just how long it would be before they excused themselves to find some other young unmarried lady to dance with—Lady Felicity, perhaps?

“You’ve got a sour look on your face now,” Octavia commented.

“Could you stop being so observant?” Ana Maria asked in a rueful tone. “I was just thinking about the bet at Miss Ivy’s. Lady Felicity. I wonder if she will be at the ball tonight.”

Octavia arched her eyebrows. “I imagine she will be. She seldom misses an opportunity to spend time with eligible gentlemen. I wonder at her family circumstances—she usually has an older aunt with her as a chaperone, and I haven’t heard anything about her family. Normally I am more aware of a family’s finances than they are themselves, thanks to the club.”

“Are you now going to make me feel sympathy for Lady Felicity? Hint at some sad poverty-stricken story that requires her to marry soon and well?”

Octavia’s eyes brightened. “That would make a perfect novel! I threatened Ivy a long time ago that I wanted to write books about dangerous gentlemen like your behemoth—”

“He’s not my behemoth,” Ana Maria muttered.

“And ladies who seem to need rescuing, but can rescue themselves.”

An odd thought struck Ana Maria as she listened to Octavia. “You want to write my story.” She snorted. “Though I know you’d be bored writing about all the decorating parts.”

Octavia rolled her eyes. “I’d far rather spend time writing about all the times the rescuing lady and her behemoth ended up alone together . . . in a carriage, on a deserted street, in a salon.”

“On a terrace,” Ana Maria added with a wicked smile.

“I cannot wait to hear how your story ends, my lady,” Octavia said with a wide smile. She popped another biscuit in her mouth, making an appreciative sound as she chewed.

Ana Maria wondered how it would end also. If only he could let go of some of his secrets.

“What are you wearing this evening?” Octavia asked, taking another biscuit. “Have you had any of those fabrics made up into gowns?”

Ana Maria sighed in sartorial satisfaction. “I have, actually. And I think it is gorgeous, although Jane—my lady’s maid and dear friend—thinks it all might be a bit much.”

“Which likely means it’s just perfect! Will you show me before I have to go back to get dressed myself?” She winked. “I don’t want to accidentally arrive at the party wearing the exact same thing.”

Ana Maria chuckled. “There is not a chance of that,” she said.

“Oooh,” Octavia sighed as she gazed at the gown Jane had laid on Ana Maria’s bed.

The silk was woven into an intricate pattern that must have taken so much skill and so many hours—Ana Maria felt a pang of remorse at how long the workers must have spent on it, and she hoped, but wasn’t optimistic, that they had gotten properly recompensed.

One good mission at a time, she warned herself as she began to think about traveling to those places and finding out the work conditions.

The fabric shimmered in the light, and it was difficult to say with any certainty what color it was—seafoam green? Teal blue? Ocean blue?

The pattern was detailed with red, gold, and green stitching, a multitude of flowers and other shapes on the skirt and the bodice.

The gold thread caught the light, and Ana Maria knew it was a good complement for her skin, which wasn’t the pale English rose of most of the other young ladies in Society. Hers bore her Spanish ancestry in its golden hue, more like a pale yellow tulip. Her coloring was something her stepmother often railed about, but now seemed as though it made her a tulip among the roses—something special and distinctive.

“I told her that the gown was a bit too much,” Jane sniffed, her tone both concerned and proud, “but she said she is up to the challenge.”

Octavia petted the fabric and made inarticulate happy noises. Noises that were echoed in Ana Maria’s brain.

“Can I see it on you? Though it’s not time