Miss Bronson blushed. “I thought your brother excessively handsome, but I am not pinning my hopes on a mere introduction,” she said demurely. “I hope to fill my dance card with gentlemen who will hopefully call tomorrow, and perhaps I’ll have an answer to your question by next week.” She giggled, a soft and delicate sound. “Much can happen in a week, can it not?”

“True.” Joan was caught up in Miss Bronson’s enthusiasm. The music for the reel started up, and Miss Bronson turned expectantly toward Morgan, who was still conversing. Joan watched as he excused himself and came to collect Miss Bronson for the dance. As Joan watched them depart, her delight was dampened by the arrival of her own dance partner, Lord Blackwood.

He offered his hand. “May I?”

“Of course.” She forced a welcoming expression and followed his lead onto the dance floor. The music picked up the pace, and she started the steps. Thankfully, he hadn’t requested a waltz; the reel offered little time for conversation and even less time for touching, which was a boon. As she circled and came back to the line, she peeked over to where Morgan and Miss Bronson were lined up. Miss Bronson’s expression brightened the room, and Joan thought that perhaps Morgan was enjoying himself more than he’d expected, if his face were any indication.

Her attention shifted back to her partner as she continued in the dance.

When it ended, Lord Blackwood escorted her back to the edge of the ballroom. “May I offer you something to drink, Lady Joan?” he asked.

Morgan and Miss Bronson came to stand beside her. “No, I thank you, Lord Blackwood, but my brother already had promised to procure me some lemonade.”

“Very well. Until later, Lady Joan.” He bowed and took his leave, but not before Joan caught sight of his gaze as it raked over her body from head to toe in a quick assessment.

A shudder ran through her.

“He won’t be welcome in our home, Joan.” Morgan’s soft voice was silk over steel. “Not with that certain lack of manners. I didn’t miss that last look.”

Joan released a pent-up breath. “Thank you,” she murmured.

“And this is why we are in the ladies’ society and want reform,” Miss Bronson whispered for Joan’s ear’s only. “So we are not subject to such men.”

“I’ll return shortly with the lemonade I somehow promised without my knowledge,” Morgan said to Joan. “Would you like some as well, Miss Bronson?”

“Indeed.” Miss Bronson was quick to accept.

“I’ll be back directly.” Morgan disappeared in the crowd, leaving Joan with Miss Bronson.

“After we get our lemonade, we should take a turn about the room and see if we can gather a few more dance invitations,” Miss Bronson plotted, her eyes slightly narrowed as if concentrating.