Sinc shot him a knowing look. “No one ever refuses you. I knew you couldn’t let it rest. And then, when I heard the on-dit that Towsett had apologized to Lady George and withdrawn his suit, well—the money was practically in the bag. And now you’re here, it is, it is! My bag!”

Hart frowned. “How could you possibly connect me with—”

“Towsett’s withdrawal?” Sinc chuckled. “So that wasn’t you marching him across the floor as if to a court-martial?”

“Oh.” He’d been so angry he hadn’t thought about witnesses.

“But who cares about Towsett? I collected on that too, and the minute you step into that ballroom, I’ll be so delightfully plump in the pocket I won’t know what to do with myself—the odds against you coming tonight were stupendous!” He danced up the last couple of steps and practically shoved Hart through the wide double doors leading into the ballroom.

The ball was well underway and the receiving line had disbanded. A dance was in progress. The Rutherfords’ butler announced them in a ringing voice: “The Duke of Everingham! The Honorable John Sinclair.”

At the announcement there was an audible hush. Heads turned in their direction. Hart ignored them. Then the Countess of Ashendon, lush with child and draped in a green dress that seemed to emphasize rather than disguise the fact, moved serenely across the room to greet them. At the same time, Lady Salter, thin and elegant in shades of smoky gray, cut across toward them from the other side of the ballroom, a thin smile of triumph on her face.

The buzz of conversation resumed, louder than before.

Lady Georgiana was dancing with an elegant young sprig and laughing as if she hadn’t a care in the world. Hart knew she’d heard him announced, for she’d turned her head in surprise. As their eyes met, her smile faded to a scowl.

So be it. He bowed over Lady Ashendon’s hand.

*   *   *

“What’s he doing here?” George muttered to Lily, indicating the duke. He stood looking around the ballroom as if he owned it, darkly elegant in black, those cold eyes of his half closed as if he were bored to death already.

“But it’s a good thing he came,” Lily said. “Isn’t that why Rose invited him? To show everyone that there were no hard feelings?”

“Yes.” But there were hard feelings, George knew. He just hid them under a veneer of boredom and ice. And superiority.

Curse him. She’d anticipated a night of unalloyed pleasure, enhanced by the last-minute apology sent by Lord Towsett to Emm, claiming something had come up preventing him from attending. Which was an unexpected joy and a relief.

But now the duke was here, and she knew, she just knew that he was going to spoil everything.