Question: This is a small teaser from my romance novel that I might decide to finish soon. Would it be top seller quality? Would you like to read it when it is published? I had to put in a space between paragraphs because Yahoo Answers does not show indentations. Enjoy!

James Worthington , Duke of Berkeley, watched his brother Adrian, Marques of Whittington, dance with a young debutante. Never taking his eyes off the dancing couple, he took a sip of punch from the glass that he had nearly forgot that he was holding.

“Your Grace, what a pleasant surprise to see you enjoying the Season’s festivities,” came a voice directly behind him.

Taken off guard and almost spilling what was left in his glass, James spun around to greet Lady Milford, his hostess. “Lady Milford, you have outdid yourself this time, I think. Your ball should be ranked as the event of the Season.”

A victorious smile spread across the woman’s round face. She produced a decorative silk fan and waved it in front of her flushed face. “Your Grace, you are too kind,” she said. Glancing across the dance floor, she gave a slight gasp. “Your Grace, would that be your brother, the Marques of Whittington, dancing with Miss Felicity Bradshaw?”

Raising a thick quizzical eyebrow, James asked, “Felicity Bradshaw? Isn’t she the daughter of the late Earl of Penbrooke?”

Eyeing the duke suspiciously, she answered, “Yes it is, Your Grace.”

The duke sat his glass down on the table next to him, reached into his vest pocket and pulled out a quizzing glass. Holding it up in front of his right eye, he watched the girl in his brother’s arms more closely.

She was perfect.

Tucking his quizzing glass back in his vest pocket, he looked back at a confused Lady Milford. “Might I have an introduction with Miss Bradshaw?”

The well-fed, plump woman dipped into a wobbly curtsy as she replied, “It would be an honor, Your Grace.”

Lady Milford had just turned to locate Miss Bradford when a loud crash came from across the ballroom. The sound of clinking pottery bouncing off the polished dance floor thundered against the eerie silence that echoed in its wake.

“What in bloody hell was that?” James yelled, not caring that he had cursed aloud.

Everyone stopped what they were doing and stared across the ballroom where a young girl was sprawled on the floor. Shards of pottery from an ancient relic that had sat on a nearby table was scattered about her.

“Stupid chit! I just knew inviting that girl would be trouble. Look at what she has done! It is all my husband’s fault. He was the one who insisted that she be invited,” Lady Milford hissed behind him.

Without bothering to face her, James kept his attention on the girl on the floor. “Who is she?”

“No one of importance, Your Grace.”

“I will be the judge of that, Madam. Now, who is she?”

Glaring at the duke’s back with resentment, she replied, “Her name is Brenna Page. She is a poor relation of Lady Cansfield. Calamity seems to cloak the girl like a second skin. Lord Milford insisted that if I invited Lady Cansfield and her daughter tonight, then it would be bad decorum if I do not invite Miss Page.” Sweeping a hand toward the scene, she yelped, “And just look what the wretch has done!”

Ignoring his angry hostess, James watched the girl pick her hands up and inspect them for injuries. Sympathy attacked him with full force as red crimson slid down her fingers from numerous cuts in her palms. Knowing that someone would help her, he resisted the urge to go to her and offer assistance.

But no one budged. One by one, the other guests resumed what they had been doing before they were interrupted.

Anger pulsed through his veins as more blood dripped onto the girl’s lavender dress. Hearing a few snickers of amusement from a small group of onlookers, he decided to take control of the situation.

With Lady Milford calling after him, he strode across the ballroom with powerful strides. Once he reached the girl, he bent down, produced a handkerchief and pressed it into the girl’s palms.

“Everything will be alright. Let me take care of your injuries and I will take you home,” he told her quietly, hoping that he wouldn’t frighten her anymore than what she already was.

Once the girl nodded her thanks, he scooped her up into his strong arms and carried her out of the ballroom, leaving curious looks and loud whispers behind.