“Sandrine doesn’t set stock in all that claptrap. At least, I don’t think she does.” Maybe she did? Was he going to have to visit a jeweler’s shop before she’d accept the inevitable and marry him?
“What would impress a lady like Miss Oliver?” Dudley asked.
“Charitable works,” Dane replied without hesitation.
“Well, aren’t you hosting a charity ball in a few days?”
“You know what—I am!”
“Then, there you go,” Dudley said. “Easy as anything. Host the best damned charity ball London’s ever seen, raise a barrow-full of money for starving orphans and destitute widows andwhatnot, and she’ll be hopelessly devoted to you for the rest of your life.”
“I donated a curricle to be auctioned off at the ball,” Warburton said smugly.
“Didn’t know you were so socially minded under that tough-as-nails exterior,” said Somersby.
“I help my friends. What have you lot done for the ball?”
“We’ll do our part,” Dudley said.
“You can auction me off to the young ladies,” Somersby said. “Twenty-five quid a carriage ride.”
Dudley kicked his shin. “They wouldn’t pay twenty-five pence. We’d have to pay them to get in a carriage with you.”
“Ha-ha,” Somersby said.
“I haven’t wanted to worry you,” Dane said, “but my brother was being blackmailed by someone. We’ve stopped the immediate threat, but the man behind it all is still out there, and he may attend the ball. I want you to be vigilant. Keep a watch on the crowd. Let me or Warburton know if you see anything out of place, even the smallest little thing.”
“You can always count on us,” Dudley said. “We’ll tell Kenwick when he’s sober.”
Dane could always count on his friends. He hadn’t even put it together, but Dudley was right, damn his eyes. The charity event was the way to Sandrine’s good graces.
Chapter Twenty-Five
So-called innocent diversions such as balls are a perfect cover for immorality and sin.
—Mrs. Oliver’s Rules for Young Ladies
When Dane sent his carriage to Mrs. McGovern’s to collect Sandrine, she brought Miss Hodwell with her as chaperone. She didn’t trust herself to be alone in the same house with him and stick to her goal of winning his heart before demanding more kisses.
She needn’t have worried because every waking moment of the past few days had been spent preparing for the ball. She’d had to have the pamphlet reprinted to list only legitimate charities, and that had been quite the expensive last-minute undertaking.
Miss Hodwell had thrown herself into ensuring that the refreshments served would be talked about by thetonfor years to come. For his part, Dane was being remarkably well-behaved and had overseen everything from the placement of the decorations to a dress rehearsal by the staff and orchestra.
They were working so hard that they hadn’t had a chance to speak two words to one another.
The morning of the ball dawned fine and fair. The ballroom at Rydell House had been transformed into the duchess’s vision of fairyland. The cavernous room, lit by five windows bordered by fluted ionic pillars and three grand glass chandeliers, glittering and dazzling the eye, was garlanded with hothouse flowers and greenery dotted with silk butterflies. There was even a grotto with a burbling fountain where it seemed that at any moment a woodland creature or fairy sprite might appear.
The weather held all day, which meant that guests would be able to enjoy the lantern-lit gardens as well.
“Everything is perfect,” Sandrine pronounced when there was only a half hour before the guests were scheduled to begin arriving.
“I have personally sampled every refreshment, and I’m confident the guests will leave satisfied and satiated,” said Miss Hodwell.
“Your work on the new pamphlet was inspired, Sandrine,” Dane said. “We can now be certain that the funds we raise tonight will go to worthy, and legitimate, causes. Cleveland will record all donations and winning bids as they occur. My two most imposing footmen will guard the cash box.”
It wasn’t lost on Sandrine that he saidmyas if he were already the duke. They would soon find out. Truth be told, Sandrine was hoping Piety had a boy. Dane becoming the duke would mean more objections to their union. She wasn’t meant to be a duchess. Though, she couldn’t help thinking that she might do a better job than Piety, with her sharp words for her maidservants and thirst for diamond tiaras.
The orchestra began tuning, and Sandrine’s heart hummed along with it. Perhaps everything could work. If Dane wasn’t the duke, and if he stopped blaming himself for his mother’s death, forgave his brother for being cruel, and realized that he had the capacity to love. If she could convince him to love Squalton Manor as she did... everything truly would be perfect.