lobster patties.”
She pulled back. “I’m not hungry.” Unfortunately, it was true. Her stomach was too busy jumping and twisting and shivering—all due to his annoying presence—to accept even the smallest morsel of food. A shame, as lobster patties were generally one of her favorite dishes, and she suspected these would be splendid. The Duke of Alvord did not seem the type to stint on his lobster patties.
“Have a glass of lemonade instead, then.”
He was very highhanded. “Perhaps I should look for my aunt.” Where was Aunt Kate? Grace glanced around the ballroom as Lord Dawson stubbornly steered her toward the door to the refreshment room. “And you could look for your uncle.”
He smiled and inclined his head toward the garden door. “No need to look. See, they are returning from a promenade in the greenery.”
“Well.” Grace tried not to stare. “They look as though they are on cordial terms, don’t they?”
“Yes, indeed. Perhaps they have managed to deal with their differences.”
Grace glanced at the couple again. Aunt Kate was smiling, though she looked a little nervous. And Mr. Wilton appeared a touch stiff. Still, they were together—they were even joining the next set. Was Aunt Kate going to find love again?
Grace grinned. “Perhaps I’ll have a glass of champagne.”
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