Ruby in the Rough (Paperback)

Her coming-out ball—thanks to her delightful sister Rosalind—was perfect. Everything Cordelia had hoped for, and more.
She stood beside Isabella, who, judging by the distaste written across her otherwise lovely sister’s features, was far from impressed with the evening’s entertainments. Not that Cordelia could blame her. This was Isabella’s second Season, and she had grown jaded after the disappointments of the last year, when none of her suitors had managed to spark genuine interest or conversation.
Cordelia slipped her arm through her sister’s and drew her close, offering quiet comfort. It could not be easy, entering society a second time, especially with the weight of expectations pressing so heavily. Everyone spoke of the importance of securing a good match, and Isabella’s lack of success—when all their other sisters had married well—left her somewhat melancholic and, Cordelia admitted, occasionally rather prickly.
“There are many fine gentlemen in town this Season, do you not think? Perhaps one of them will catch your eye,” Cordelia said, smiling as she watched the lively minuet unfolding in the center of the room. The music soared, the laughter of the dancers and guests swirling around them, pulling everyone into a haze of merriment.
“I will grant you that point,” Isabella murmured, “but they seem far more interested in you than in me. I think I shall retire and leave you to enjoy your ball. I feel a megrim coming on in any case.”
Cordelia frowned and tightened her hold. “Are you unwell? Should I fetch Rosalind?”
“No.” Isabella gave her hand a reassuring pat and slipped free. “A good night’s rest will put me to rights, and I shall be fresh for tomorrow’s ball. We are attending Almack’s, are we not?”
“Yes,” Cordelia replied, trying to keep the tremor of nerves from her voice. The very thought of Almack’s was enough to make her palms damp. The patronesses were notoriously strict, and a single misstep—or a stumble on the dance floor—could see one blacklisted. What if she tripped, or worse, forgot the steps entirely to a minuet? Her Season could be over before it had even begun.
“Another night to look forward to,” Isabella said with a soft smile. She brushed Cordelia’s cheek with a quick kiss and slipped away, leaving Cordelia to face her coming-out night alone.
Not that she was truly alone. Rosalind, their eldest sister and now a duchess, was present, as was her husband, the current Duke of Ravensmere. They would ensure that Cordelia enjoyed herself and met the right people. And yet, as Cordelia glanced around the glittering crowd, she felt the curious weight of being the center of attention. Her heart fluttered. So many hours of this night still stretched before her—hours of polite conversation, endless introductions, and smiling until her cheeks ached.
She strolled through the ballroom, exchanging pleasantries with guests she barely knew but who were all, in some way, acquaintances of Rosalind or her husband. It was fortunate, she supposed, that her sister married their guardian. It would certainly ensure Cordelia’s chances of making a good match.
She eventually found herself among a small group of young ladies, all of them giddy with anticipation for the Season ahead. One young woman in particular, Lady Jane Walpole, stood out. Cordelia had quickly come to like Jane’s easygoing manner and frankness. Over the past week in London, they had formed a fast friendship, and Cordelia was grateful to have at least one confidante among the many debutantes.
“Your ball is a marvel, Cordelia,” Jane said with a grin. “And might I add, it will be the talk of London tomorrow morning. Every mama will be rattling away at their husbands about it—because you have managed to draw to your ball a gentleman that few ever see at such events.”
“I have?” Cordelia looked about, seeing nothing out of the ordinary. “Who do you mean?”
Jane nodded discreetly toward the supper room doors, where a cluster of older ladies and their daughters seemed to be gathering.
Cordelia frowned, curious. What could possibly be happening over there? Then the reason for their interest stepped out from behind a marble pillar and into view.
Cordelia’s breath caught.
As though compelled, her gaze fixed on the man she had never seen before but could not look away from now. He was striking—handsome and worldly it appeared.
For he was, as her sister Evangeline would have said, “utterly delicious.”
Tall, dark-haired, with a strong jaw and cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass. His nose was straight and patrician, his stance commanding without effort. He stood calmly, nodding occasionally as women all but fawned over him, yet there was a coolness in his expression—an air of boredom, as if he would rather be anywhere else.
Cordelia almost felt sorry for him. Almost. After all, women were expected to endure endless courtings and false promises; perhaps it was only fair that a man should suffer similar treatment from the ton.
“I do not know who he is,” she murmured, turning to Jane. “Do you?”
Jane’s eyes were bright with mischief. “He is Christian North, the Duke of Walpole, my brother. But the duke is, as you can see, both handsome and extremely desirable.” Jane gave out an amused chuckle. “Every mama here is no doubt imagining how splendid it would be to see their daughter married to him.”
Cordelia glanced at her friend, having not heard she had such a handsome brother. “Your brother? But, surely his attendance here this evening is to escort and chaperone you, not because it’s my coming out.”
Jane shook her head, sipping her ratafia. “Oh no, it’s not because of me. I have Aunt Gladys here, she’s my chaperone, although I have not seen her for some time. I hope she has not forgotten me again and returned home.”
Cordelia made a mental note to speak further upon this aunt who sounded quite the character and turned her attention back to the duke who drew her interest as much as the many women now surrounding him. “Your brother looks as if he might rather turn to stone than endure another moment of conversation with those vying for his attention.”
Jane laughed. “I would not doubt it. He is particular—and, yes, a little lofty—but that is to be expected, considering his social status I suppose. Not that I’ve ever been similar, much to his disappointment. He circulates more often with the Royal court than the ton, so I suppose he’s maybe feeling a little out of place.”
“That is impressive,” Cordelia conceded, “but I still wonder why he is here. I have never met him before. Is it not odd that he would attend the coming-out of someone as insignificant as myself?”
“You are not insignificant, Cordelia,” Jane said, with uncharacteristic firmness. “You are the daughter of the late Duke of Ravensmere, sister-in-law to the current one, and a wealthy heiress besides. Add to that your beauty, and I cannot imagine why my brother would not notice you. He’d be a simpleton indeed if he did not. Besides,” Jane said, turning her attention to those crowding about them. “Also, I do believe he’s friends with Ravensmere, it would be remiss of me not to notify you of their rapport.”
Cordelia’s lips curved wryly. “Well, that explains his attendance. In any case, I long for a love match, Jane. So, unless he is capable of thawing that frozen heart he seems to have for our society, I have no interest in his courtship. I want an equal partner—just as my sisters were fortunate to find. That is not too much to ask, is it?”
“Not at all too much,” Jane said warmly. “I wish for the same. But let us be honest, Cordelia—if a man like Walpole showed genuine interest, would you truly dismiss him? My brother is one of the wealthiest men in England, after your brother-in-law, of course. And,” she added with a wicked glint in her eye, “I would truly love if we were sisters-in-law. How much fun could we have if that were to be true.”
Cordelia laughed, unable to help herself. “That would be a boon, I agree.”
Jane grinned. “Perhaps you should have Ravensmere introduce you. It would not be forward since this is your coming-out ball, or I can do so, if you’re willing.”
She turned her attention from the duke, wanting to be introduced but also not wishing to look desperate like so many who had gathered about him appeared. “He seems quite athletic, does he ride much?” Cordelia asked, hoping that he did for she too was an excellent rider and enjoyed hunting when in the country.
“I do have excellent horsemanship, Lady Cordelia,” came a cool, masculine voice behind them, “and should you ride in the park, you would be able to judge that for yourself—if you are capable to rise early enough to drag yourself from your warm bed.”
Cordelia felt the blood drain from her face and her worst fear had come true: she had been overheard. Dear God, please do not let it be the Duke of Walpole standing behind her.
But when she turned, it was.
Of course it was.
He towered over them both, his cold, aloof expression as devastating up close as it was from across the room.
Cordelia’s mouth snapped shut, and she dipped into a curtsy, hoping to salvage her dignity. “Your Grace,” she said, forcing a polite smile. “What a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
His lips curled—not in a smile, but in something closer to disdain. “We have not been introduced, so we have not made each other’s acquaintance at all.”
Heat bloomed on her face and thankfully Jane came to her aid.
“Brother, this is Lady Cordelia Ravensmere as you well know since you’re at her coming-out ball. Lady Cordelia,” Jane said, catching her eye. “This is my brother, The Duke of Walpole.”
“A pleasure.” But was it? He seemed most displeased with her. Had what she said been so terribly crude? Was one appearing athletic vulgar?
“Likewise.” His tone far from conveying the sentiment before he quickly bowed and moved on as if he’d done his duty and was bored by her in the few moments they spoke.
Cordelia watched him weave his way through the crowd and did not know if she ought to be offended or pleased not to have to speak to him any further. He was very overbearing and intimidating.
“Well,” Jane said after a long moment, “that is certainly a meeting we shall not soon forget.”
“No indeed,” Cordelia said, heat rising to her cheeks. “Though I wish I could forget it this very instant. I do not think that your brother likes me.”
Jane chuckled. “Do not be concerned, Cordelia. He does not like anyone.”