Dancing with the Duke

Dancing with the Duke — Prequel to the
Landing a Lord series

She’s loved him for years…

Charlotte Grant can’t remember a time when
she didn’t love her best friend’s older brother.

He’s never noticed her …

The Duke of Clarington hadn’t spared a
thought for his sister’s friend in years.

Their situations are about to be
reversed…

It is the beginning of a new Season and
Clarington intends to stay away from all the young ladies and eager
mamas hoping to ensnare a duke. But that plan falls into tatters
when his mother sponsors his sister’s friend and enlists him to
dance with her at Almack’s. The beautiful vixen he meets that night
bears little resemblance to the shy, gangly girl who used to follow
him around. Now, instead of avoiding Charlotte, he finds himself
frustrated when she seems to notice everyone but him.

Landing a Lord ~ a novella

Copyright

ISBN # 978-0-9918237-0-3

Copyright © 2012 Saozinha Medeiros

Cover design © Kim Killion

Edited by Last Draft Editing

Smashwords Edition 1.0

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters,
places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination
or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events,
locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. Where such permission is
sufficient, the author grants the right to strip any DRM which may
be applied to this work.

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Thank You!

Excerpt from Loving the Marquess —
Suzanna Medeiros

Excerpt from A Marquess for Christmas —
Vivienne Westlake

Other Books by Suzanna

About Suzanna

Acknowledgements

To my parents, for their unconditional love
and support.

1806

The Duke of Clarington cursed his luck at
finding himself at the most hated of places during the most hated
of times — Almack’s at the start the London Season. The ballroom
was filled to capacity, and he could almost feel the weight of the
assembled guests’ speculative glances pressing in on him,
threatening to suffocate him. It took no small amount of effort to
hold his ground.

He’d tried to convince two of his closest
friends to accompany him that evening, but the Marquess of Overlea
and the Earl of Kerrick had manufactured reasons to be elsewhere.
He couldn’t blame them. If he could have managed the feat, he would
have been anywhere else as well.

He distracted himself by listening in on the
conversation of two young ladies who were only a few steps away.
Their loud whispers, dissecting every man present, were impossible
to ignore. When they paused, he glanced their way to see who was to
be their next victim, and, as if on cue, they turned to look at
him. As one, the pair lifted their fans to titter behind them.

He was going to kill Lucy for this. It was,
after all, his sister’s fault he was there that evening. He’d
always made it a point to stay well away from Almack’s, the hunting
grounds of the single female of marriageable age. But at Lucy’s
request, their mother had undertaken to sponsor her childhood
friend’s introduction to society. At two and twenty, Charlotte
would be older than most of the other girls taking their first
steps into society, so his sister had argued that the full backing
of the Clarington family was needed to make her debut a successful
one.

From there, it took little effort for Lucy to
convince their mother it was vital he be seen dancing with her
friend. She’d reasoned that once others saw Alexander Thompson, the
elusive Duke of Clarington, dancing with their charge, men would
flock to her side, anxious to discover her charms.

He suppressed a shudder. Charlotte Grant had
no charms. The last time he’d seen her she’d been a gangly,
long-limbed adolescent of fifteen who’d taken to following him
everywhere. She’d also had a terrible habit of blushing and
stammering whenever he spoke to her. He had a suspicion that Lucy
had taken it into her head to try to arrange a match between the
two of them. She’d often voiced how Charlotte was just like a
sister to her.

He had no intention of obliging her, however.
He would invite Charlotte to dance, as he’d promised his mother,
and then he would be free to depart. That moment could not come
soon enough.

He took out his pocket watch and wondered,
for what felt like the hundredth time, what was taking them so
long. His mother and sister had left before him to fetch Charlotte
and should have already been there. It was now twenty minutes past
the time of their intended arrival, and his need to escape was
growing with each passing minute.

Movement at the entrance to the ballroom
caught his attention, and Alexander turned to see his mother and
sister enter the room and wait to be announced. He frowned when he
didn’t see Charlotte. With her flaming red hair and her great
height, she would be hard to miss.

He saw her, then, as she moved into the
doorway and had to stop himself from allowing his jaw to drop. Good
God, surely this couldn’t be the same girl he’d known.

He was staring, but he couldn’t help it. She
was even taller than when he’d last seen her seven years ago, just
before he’d left for the continent on his tour, and her red hair
had darkened. Not by much, but enough that the color now
complemented her creamy complexion instead of warring with it. And
instead of hiding the color of her hair, which he suspected had
always made her feel self-conscious, she’d chosen to wear a green
and gold gown that accentuated it.

He gave himself a mental shake and approached
the group as they moved further into the room. The sooner he got
this over with, the sooner he could leave.

“I am so glad you are here, Alex,” Lucy said
when he reached them. “I wasn’t sure you would come.”

He was tempted to reply that she had left him
with no choice after involving their mother in her schemes, but he
had to be on his best behavior. He was almost out the door and then
he could enjoy the feel of the fresh air after the stifling
constraints of the filled-to-overflowing ballroom.

Alex dropped a kiss on his mother’s cheek. “I
was beginning to think you had changed your minds and decided to
leave me here, undefended, against the wolves.”

His mother laughed. “I’ll never understand
you. Most men would love to have such attention showered on them.
In fact,” she said, gazing about the room, “most of them seem to be
engaged already and enjoying the dancing. The time would have
passed more quickly if you had done the same yourself instead of
standing in a corner, shooting daggers at anyone who looked your
way.”

He shrugged. This was an argument they’d had
often. “I am not one for dancing.” Bracing himself to face
Charlotte’s blushes and stammers, he turned his attention to her.
“You’re looking lovely, Charlotte,” he said, surprised to find that
he meant it. “It has been a few years.”

Instead of blushing, however, she smiled. No,
smiling was too tame a word to describe her radiance. She lit up
the room.

“It has, indeed,” she said. “I am sorry that
your family pressured you into this duty, but I do appreciate your
sacrifice on my behalf.”

Somehow, he found that he was the one who now
had to be careful not to stammer, but he managed to keep his voice
smooth. “It would never be a sacrifice to dance with you.”

A set was just starting and he offered her
his arm. It was a strange sensation escorting her to the dance
floor. He’d never partnered with a woman as tall as her.

When the set began, he was surprised, yet
again, when he discovered that the formerly clumsy adolescent he’d
once known now moved with seemingly effortless grace. It appeared
that Charlotte Grant had finally become comfortable in her own
body. Now that he considered that body as they moved through the
figures of the dance, it held another surprise. Charlotte was a
late bloomer. Her breasts filled out her dress very nicely…
something they hadn’t done when he’d last seen her seven years
before. It was only with great effort that he kept his eyes from
drifting down to examine the creamy expanse of skin exposed by the
low cut of her gown.

The set was a lively one, and he was glad
that he didn’t have to make polite small talk with Charlotte. Her
emergence from gawky youth to the beautiful woman now facing him
had set him off balance.

When the dance was over, he took her hand and
bowed over it. She smiled up at him again and he noticed that she
had dimples. He frowned at the errant thought.

“Is something the matter, Alex?”

It startled him that she would address him
with such familiarity, but only for a moment. How could he forget
that this beautiful woman was the same girl who’d been friends with
his sister for most of their lives? He may not have seen her for
several years, but Charlotte had always been considered an honorary
member of the family.

He could hardly tell her what he was
thinking, however, and blurted out the first innocuous thing that
came to mind. “What happened to your freckles?”

He groaned inwardly as soon as the words
passed his lips, remembering how she’d hated to be teased about her
freckles. Instead of being offended, however, Charlotte laughed and
leaned in close, so he could catch her low words.

“I’m hoping you won’t tell anyone about
those. I’ve powdered them to make them less noticeable.”

Her face was very close to his, and at this
distance, he had no difficulty seeing them. They were lighter than
normal, but the fine spray of freckles over her nose and cheeks
were still there. He had to resist the urge to brush a finger
across the small brown flecks. He’d never noticed how becoming they
were.

He wasn’t sure how long they stood like that,
looking at each other, but all too soon Lucy swooped in to steal
her friend away. He watched them walk away and realized he was
waiting for Charlotte to look back and smile at him again.

After dismissing the errant thought, he
started for the exit. His steps faltered, however, then stopped.
When he turned to see where his sister had taken Charlotte, he was
relieved to see that they were standing off to one side, talking to
Mother. That relief was short lived. He saw first one, then another
gentleman approach the small group. His mother capably performed
the introductions, and before he knew it, Charlotte was being led
out onto the dance floor by Haversham, a renowned rake.

Damn. He couldn’t possibly leave now and
abandon Charlotte to Haversham and his like. He’d have to stay and
make sure no one tried to take any liberties with her.

* * *

The evening was an unqualified success and
Charlotte was in a very good mood. She could barely remember the
names of all the men who’d asked her to dance. Lucy had given her a
list of their names and titles in advance when they’d first talked
about her Season, and she had studied them. All that preparation
had almost flown out the window when she’d first set eyes on her
friend’s brother.

Alexander was even more handsome than she
remembered. At over six feet in height, he was taller than most of
the men there. He’d always had a muscular build, but it hadn’t
escaped her notice that his shoulders had broadened as he’d matured
into adulthood. She was taller than most of the women present that
evening, but next to him she felt almost dainty, and a thrill of
physical awareness had swept through her when she’d taken his arm.
He used to wear his dark brown hair longer, but now it was
fashionably sort, which had the effect of making his blue eyes more
prominent.

She’d worked hard over the last few years to
overcome her shyness, but when those eyes had turned on her she’d
almost reverted back to the self-conscious girl she’d once been.
She’d experienced a moment of panic, thinking she was going to lose
her nerve, but had thankfully managed to stay collected.

The difference in their ages no longer seemed
as significant as when she was younger. He was only six years older
than her, after all. That was a very large difference when one was
fifteen, but seemed negligible now that she was twenty-two.