Viscount Dubois

“Don’t stare, Sam. He might get the wrong impression,” my cousin hissed and we giggled and began walking faster.

We were breathless when we arrived back where Louisa sat with de Grave.

“What brings such a twinkle to your eyes, ladies?” de Grave asked with a smile as he handed each of us a glass of punch.

Before I could answer him, I felt someone tap me on the shoulder.

I turned and saw a very tall gentleman standing there with sparkling green eyes that vied for attention with the shiny row of medals decorating his coat.

“Miss Delacourt, I am glad to see you are so obviously restored in health.”

I bowed low, not an easy feat to accomplish with a glass of punch in hand, and smiled up at Viscount Dubois. “Thank you, Viscount Dubois. The lilies you sent were most beautiful.”

“Did you get the card? I took special care to make sure they arrived with a card. I wrote it myself, you know.” He smiled proudly, reminding me of a male peacock I once saw in the zoo.

“Yes, that was a most, er, thoughtful gesture,” I said lamely, trying hard not to laugh. I could see Izzie trying to get my attention out of the corner of my eye, but I refused to look, knowing that to do so would prove my undoing. So I took a demure sip of my punch instead and looked expectantly up at the viscount.

“Did someone claim the dance for eight, Miss Delacourt?” he asked hopefully. I resisted the urge to groan.

“No, she’s claimed already for nine and ten, but eight is clear, right, Sam?” Izzie piped up. I turned to face her, hoping she could feel the daggers I was shooting her way.

“Will you hold my punch, darling cousin?”

“Delighted to help you in any way, dearest cousin,” she replied with a wink.

The End

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