“Not skimping on the ice hardly makes up for subjecting us all to this insanity,” Carter insisted.

“If you hate it all so much, then why are you here?”

Carter felt his jaw harden. Benton was right, why did he come? To please his father? Yet he knew, and his father knew, that Carter would reject the woman the duke presented to him tonight. On principle alone, if nothing else. Still, father and son continued to play this game with each other. The duke made unrealistic demands and Carter complied halfheartedly, doing only enough to avoid the appearance of outright defiance.

“The Duke of Hansborough and Lady Audrey Parson.”

The butler’s booming voice drew everyone toward the doorway. An older gentleman and a very young woman glided into the ballroom. Back straight, eyes alert, mouth unsmiling, the Duke of Hansborough moved with the grace and energy of a far younger man. The dense crowd actually parted to make a path for him.

The female at his side clung to him like a vine on a garden trellis. She was tiny in stature, open eyed, and blatantly innocent. Carter’s irritated mood deepened.

“Ah, now I understand why you are here tonight, Atwood,” Viscount Benton said gleefully. “You were waiting for your father. And look, he has brought you a present! My, my, isn’t she a pretty young thing? Not a day over seventeen, I’d wager.”

“Shut up, Benton.”

The viscount snickered. “Well, she isn’t a cow, you must allow him points for that at least. But those hips are almost indecently wide. Yet perfect for breeding plenty of little brats. How fortunate.”

“Egad! It’s Audrey.”

Carter turned and faced the man who had just joined them. “Do you know her, Dawson?”

“Afraid so, Atwood. Her mother and my aunt are great friends. I’ve known her for years.”