Lady Cathcart leaned over to whisper into the ear of one of the many women in this particular corner of the ballroom, and the two broke into laughter. Several of the older ladies eyed Daniel as he waited for a break in the conversation, and under their glares, Anne seemed to shrink into herself again.

Daniel bowed and asked permission to take Miss Victon into the next room.

“I don’t know what your father was thinking, child, to send you here to Almack’s and to hire this man to see you weren’t left on the sidelines. Still, he’s paying me good money to be here. Go, have your refreshments. Don’t get into any trouble. Or if you do, don’t tell me about it.”

The women let out peals of laughter.

“Oh, I don’t know, Almina. Perhaps the child has unplumbed depths. She did manage a dance with a duke, after all. Both of these two reaching above their stations.” A woman with brassy yellow curls clustered about her seamed face narrowed her eyes and pointed with her fan. “You’d do well to remember your place.”

Daniel touched Anne’s hand. The odor of strong drink hovered around the women, and more than one cheek was too flushed, more than one eye too bright, for them to be entirely sober. A drunk man was bad enough, but in Daniel’s eyes, there was something terribly wrong about a drunk woman, particularly one claiming to be a lady.

“Let’s go meet the duke and Lady Juliette. We don’t want them to think we’re not coming.” He stood erect, looking down his nose at the cluster of women. If this was the nobility, give him squalor any day.

Anne gave him a tremulous smile and nodded.

Once in the refreshment room, Anne relaxed again. Daniel and Heinrich fetched punch and cake for the ladies. Daniel eyed his pastry, poking it with his fork. This might be the vaunted Almack’s, but he’d purchased penny cakes from costermongers that looked better. The high-in-the-instep patronesses clearly didn’t wish to spend the bawbees on quality food.

The duke was kindness itself, asking Miss Victon questions about her home and answering with stories of his own. And all without sounding pompous. How did someone who owned several castles, a title, and more money than a man could spend in two lifetimes manage to be humble and self-deprecating?

It made him difficult to dislike.

With Anne and Heinrich in a lively conversation, Daniel turned to Juliette. “Did I see Sir Bertrand in the game room?”

“Yes. He is a wonderful dancer, but he prefers cards to quadrilles.” She took a dainty bite of a pink-frosted cake, her tongue darting out to lick a crumb on her lip.

Daniel’s collar tightened.

“The Sewell affair?” He kept his voice low.