Undercover Duke

It wasn’t that she didn’t want Flora to enjoy herself and have plenty of partners. Vanessa would merely prefer that none of them be Sheridan. And that they not make such a handsome couple.
She tore her gaze from them to focus on Mr. Juncker. “How long have you known Miss Younger?”
The question seemed to annoy her present partner. “A few years. Since we met in Bath.”
But why had Flora never mentioned him? As soon as Vanessa had the chance, she would ask her.
He released Vanessa in the dance, and by the time they came back together, didn’t seem to wish to enlighten her any further. “And you? How long have you been friends with Miss Younger?”
“Ever since my coming out.” She bowed and twirled. “We met when I was riding in Hyde Park with some fellow Mama had foisted on me as punishment for me not trying to snag my cousin Grey as a husband.”
“Let me guess,” Mr. Juncker said. “Your mother’s punishment was an elderly sort with a noble title who leered at you every chance he got.”
She laughed. “No, that’s just who she’s forcing on me these days. This fellow was young but vain as a peacock. And with no good reason, either, since he routinely wore baggy pantaloons and an awful powdered wig that he thought made him look sophisticated.”
They separated for a few minutes in the dance. When they came back together, she continued her tale. “It was March and a fierce wind blew up out of nowhere, sending his wig flying right beneath the brim of Miss Younger’s hat to get caught in her bow. She screamed because she thought it was a bird, and only after Lady Whitmarsh had the foresight to yank off her bonnet did my friend realize she wasn’t under attack.” She smiled at Mr. Juncker. “That sounds like something from one of your plays, doesn’t it?”
“Except that in my play, the wig would have knocked off her hat and hit a horse, which would have spooked and galloped off, dragging its rider with it.”
Vanessa cocked her head. “How would you show that on the stage?”
With a dismissive wave, he said, “That’s for the stage manager to decide. I do not concern myself with such minor matters.” Then he grinned at her, negating her impression that he was a rather pompous fellow. “Although the stage manager would grumble and groan about it.”
“No doubt,” she said dryly.
He laughed, and that made her like him. Why must things be so easy with Mr. Juncker, whom she didn’t want, and so difficult with Sheridan, whom she did? It simply wasn’t fair.
They went through the steps in silence for a bit. They sometimes found themselves weaving between Flora and Sheridan as part of the dance, and Vanessa would strain to hear the other couple’s conversation. But she never heard them speak at all. She didn’t know if that was good or bad. Sheridan was a quiet gentleman in general. Perhaps he would prefer a silent dance partner to a chattering one like her. That would make him Silent Sheridan. Nay, Studious Sheridan, to judge by what he’d said about spending his time going over the books.
As if Mr. Juncker had read her mind, he asked, “How long have you known Armitage?”
“Since he arrived in England.”
“So, not long.”
“Long enough,” Vanessa said as Mr. Juncker turned her in the dance. “Over a year.”
Mr. Juncker was a good dancer, light on his feet and adept at leading, but still not nearly as good as Sheridan. Or perhaps she was biased. She sneaked a glance at Sheridan and Flora. They looked perfect together, both of them tall and elegant, gliding along the floor in harmony.
Vanessa considered herself well-dressed, but elegant she was not and never had been. She was too short. Too fidgety. Too talkative. Too prone to laugh heartily. Mama had always said so, anyway. A lady mustn’t do anything heartily, girl. It smacks of low breeding.
That bit of dubious advice had become fixed in Vanessa’s head years ago, though she rarely followed it.
“Do you fancy Armitage?” Mr. Juncker asked as he gazed at the other couple.
“Do you fancy Miss Younger?”
“I know better.”
“I’m afraid I don’t,” she admitted. “Not yet, anyway.” She stole a look at Sheridan. “And if you ever say a word of how I feel to Sheridan, I will ruin matters between you and Miss Younger forever.”
“You can’t ruin what I’ve already done a bang-up job of ruining myself.”
Vanessa took a deep breath. “It’s never too late for mending fences.”
Mr. Juncker smiled ruefully at her. “I only wish that were true.”
“Will you promise to keep my secret anyway?”
“Absolutely. I happen to enjoy annoying Saint Sheridan, who has always seemed to feel an active dislike toward me, for no reason I can see.”
Dare she hope it was out of jealousy over her supposed infatuation with Mr. Juncker? It certainly lightened her heart to think it.
To her surprise, their dance ended just then. It had proved more pleasurable than expected.
“Tell me something,” she said as he led her to where her uncle stood chatting with some people. “Why did you ask me to dance?”
“I’m turning over a new leaf.” He patted her hand where it lay on his forearm. “Your cousin Grey no longer joins me on my adventures, and neither does my friend Thornstock. So I’m shifting my priorities to a more respectable realm. I’ve even begun a novel, with Thorn’s encouragement. If I succeed in gaining a publisher for it, not to mention an audience, I may actually settle down and get married.”
“Not to me, I hope.”
He laughed heartily. Apparently men could laugh heartily without reproach. “Surely your mother would never approve of me as a suitor.”
“True.”
“But I must start somewhere, and you seem as good a place as any to begin practicing how to please a respectable lady.”
“You probably shouldn’t use me as an example of respectability. Mama claims I voice my opinion far too readily to be called that.”
“Well, I wouldn’t want to