She Tempts the Duke (12 page)

His laughter was low, dark, did not arrive with an accompanying smile. “We would not be here to present gifts if not for your courage.”

“I suspect you would have found a way to thwart your uncle’s plans.”

“We shall never know. Thanks to you.”

He was discarding his own cleverness in favor of hers. But she’d acted without any thought or plans. Still, she supposed she couldn’t argue with the results. Here they were.

“Darling.”

At the familiar refined voice she spun around and smiled, silently chastising herself for the speculation she saw in Fitzwilliam’s eyes. She’d spent far too long speaking alone with Sebastian. It was hardly appropriate behavior for a woman who was betrothed. Hardly appropriate for any unmarried woman. She had no wish for him to doubt her loyalties. “Fitzwilliam.”

“I’ve come to claim my dance.”

“I’m sorry. I was distracted. I don’t know what I’d do if you didn’t keep up with them.” He didn’t smile at her teasing tone. She supposed she couldn’t blame him. She turned slightly and gave Sebastian a pointed look. Surely he realized that he needed to acknowledge Fitzwilliam.

“Fitzwilliam,” he finally said.

“Your Grace. I daresay, I was enjoying my time in the card room until your brother relieved me of my blunt for the evening. He seems to have quite the luck with cards.”

“Every man has something at which he excels.”

The tension radiating between the two was thick enough to slice with a knife. Surely Sebastian couldn’t resent every man who had never been dispossessed of his fortune and place in Society. And Fitzwilliam. Was he jealous? She didn’t know whether to be flattered or irritated.

“He more than excels,” Fitzwilliam said.

“If you’re accusing him of something spit it out with straight words.”

The tension ratcheted up several notches. She placed her hand on Fitzwilliam’s arm to remind him she was there. His muscles were as hard as stone. He didn’t like Sebastian. That much was obvious. But he was smart enough to remember the swiftness with which Sebastian had moved that first night when he’d taken offense at his uncle’s words.

“Merely a compliment,” Fitzwilliam said and she felt his muscles relaxing.

“I shall pass it on to my brother.”

“By all means, please do. Now if you’ll be so good as to excuse us, my favorite part of the evening is upon me.”

Sebastian turned to her. “It was good to see you again, Lady Mary.”

“My pleasure, Your Grace. I hope you will reconsider dancing. The ladies always outnumber the gentlemen. I do believe you’ll find yourself never lacking for a partner.”

Before Sebastian could respond, Fitzwilliam was leading her away. “Were you trying to entice him into a dance?”

She heard the displeasure in his voice. She supposed she couldn’t blame him, even though betrothed ladies—indeed married ones—danced with many partners. “I was trying to entice him away from keeping the potted plants company. He’s not comfortable here.”

“I do not see that it is your concern. It’s as though you’ve adopted a stray. First securing him an invitation to your aunt’s dinner and then to this affair.”

“Lady Hermione extended the invitation for tonight.”

“You deny that you had anything at all to do with his presence? That your meeting in the park was merely coincidence and not an attempt to lure him here?”

He’d heard? Of course he had. There was not an action taken in all of London that was not commented on—repeatedly. “I was there as a favor to Lady Hermione.”

“She wanted him here?”

“She wanted Lord Tristan here. But I knew he would only come if Keswick came.”

“You also no doubt have more sway over the duke than over his brother.”

“We were childhood friends. You know that. You also know that it is imperative he be seen at these functions in order to be accepted.”

“I still fail to see why you should care.”

“Because of our friendship. I would share the same concerns for any friend. Lady or gent.”

Taking her in his arms, holding her gaze, he swept her over the dance floor. “Never forget that you belong to me.”

Her eyes widened at that. “You’ve never been quite so possessive.”

“My apologies. I have a bit of a jealous streak, especially where you are concerned. I fear it does not flatter me.”

“And a competitive one. I suspect you didn’t fancy losing your money in the game room.”

“My only consolation is that I was not the only one. These brothers are hardly typical lords.”

“But then they’ve hardly had a typical upbringing or experiences.”

“Your heart is too soft, Mary. Take care or you might find it bruised.”

His warning came just a tad too late, because her heart was already aching for Sebastian and wondering how she could make him more comfortable with his surroundings. Life had thrown many an obstacle his way. It seemed it was not yet done.

Chapter 12

S
ebastian reluctantly admitted that he wished Mary weren’t smiling quite so brightly as Fitzwilliam expertly twirled her over the dance floor. What a selfish bastard he was. Her relationship with Fitzwilliam was not a threat to their long-standing friendship.

“Lovely, isn’t she?”

Sebastian heard the soft voice on his left, and damned the woman for coming up on his blind side. How long had she been standing there observing him? It was difficult to hold back his irritation when he swung his head around to get a good view of whomever the deuce she was. Then regretted his irritation. “Lady Ivers.” He took her gloved hand, bowed over it, and kissed the tips of her fingers.

The countess blushed. “Why do you waste your charms on an old woman such as me? Why are you not out on the dance floor?”

“You are not so old.”

“Balderdash.” She turned her attention back to the crowded ballroom. While he wanted to do the same, if he did he would lose sight of her. “You avoided my question.”

“I have not danced in a good many years.”

“It is not something one forgets. They make an interesting couple, do they not? My niece and Fitzwilliam?”

He thought hers was a telling choice of words. “Do you not approve?”

“I do
not
disapprove. Yet I watched the two of you during dinner the other night. There is something between you.”

“Friendship,” he said much too quickly.

“It makes for a good foundation for a marriage.”

“She is betrothed.”

“Indeed she is, and her father likes him. But I am not so sure that he is not looking beyond seeing that she is secure. His nephew will inherit, you know, when Winslow is gone. He is not quite confident in his nephew’s strength of character or generosity. Winslow worries that he is not much longer for this world. His brother was only thirty-eight when he passed. His father forty. I hate to say it, but resilient hearts do not run in that family. Still, my sister saw something in him to love. I told Winslow he need not marry Mary off in haste. She will always have a place in my home, but I think he wants to see her settled. Fitzwilliam is of good stock. She will be happy. I’m certain of it. If she is not, her husband will have to deal with me.”

Damned if he didn’t like the woman. “Mary is fortunate to have you as her champion.”

“I am fortunate to have her as my niece.” She patted his arm. “Don’t let the lionesses dissuade you from enjoying this affair. The one thing I am completely confident about is that a gentleman who has worn the uniform is always an accomplished dancer.”

Not when his sight was restricted.

“Give it a go, Your Grace.”

For a moment there, he feared she was hinting that he should ask her for a dance, but with another pat on his arm, she strolled away. He could quite imagine that in her day she had turned many a head. Just as Mary did.

He looked back toward the dance floor and gritted his teeth. She was in Tristan’s arms, moving gracefully in rhythm with the music. Tristan was cutting quite the swath through the ladies. He knew it shouldn’t grate that his brother was dancing with Mary. Tristan knew her more than he knew any of the others. It was expected. But still he didn’t like the way Tristan watched her through hooded eyes. But then Tristan caught his gaze and issued a silent challenge:
Cut in. I dare you.

Damn him!

Lady Ivers was correct. Soldiers were known to cut quite a figure when they danced. Sebastian had always considered it a silly bit of nonsense. A soldier’s place was on the battlefield, but he was expected to reflect his glory in the ballrooms. He’d danced with his fair share of the ladies. Had even enjoyed it, but holding Mary in his arms would no doubt be an experience that rivaled all others. Would waltzing be so difficult if he did no grand sweeping? He could claim a small bit of the dance floor.

Her aunt had tossed down the gauntlet. Crafty old biddy. He caught sight of her watching him, daring him even. One dance. Surely he could survive that.

After all, he’d survived the carnage of war.

A
fter her dance with Tristan, Mary retired to a corner and spoke with Lady Alicia. And spoke with her, and spoke with her, and spoke with her. It seemed she’d found her place and intended to remain there. While Sebastian knew awkwardness would no doubt arrive with him, he squared his shoulders and marched forward as though an enemy awaited. He supposed sooner or later he would be forced to speak with Lady Alicia. Might as well make it quick.

Before he’d reached Mary, she turned and smiled at him, and he suspected Lady Alicia had said something to make her aware of his coming over.

“Your Grace,” Mary said.

“Lady Mary.” He bowed slightly. “Lady Alicia.”

“Your Grace,” she replied with a slight tremble in her voice, and he realized a faint blush crept up her face. “My sincerest apologies for the debacle of the other night. I assure you—”

“Leave it go, Alicia,” Mary murmured. “Keswick has already forgotten about it, I’m sure.”

“I don’t see how he could.”

“It is forgotten,” he assured her.

“I was such a ninny.”

“It is. Forgotten,” he said as firmly as he could.

“I truly meant no harm.”

Dear God, was he going to have to ask the chit to dance in order to convince her that the lies he spoke were truth? “No harm was done.”

“Still, it was unconscionable—”

“Alicia—” Mary began, a plea in her voice.

“—to make you feel uncomfortable in our home and I—”

“Perhaps you will honor me with a dance later,” he forced out.

Her eyes widened but at least her mouth remained closed. Thank God. She blinked, looked at Mary, looked back at him. “Yes, certainly.” She began to scour her dance card.

Mary caught his eye and smiled softly, apparently pleased with the way he’d handled the awkward situation. He thought her smile alone was worth the agony he would endure as he dreaded the upcoming turn about the floor with her cousin, especially as it was not her cousin with whom he wished to dance. He held Mary’s gaze and thought there were no more expressive eyes in all of Great Britain. She drew him in, made him think all things were possible. That he could indeed traverse the maze of a dance floor—if she were in his arms. Suddenly he wanted her there with a fierceness that he’d only experienced in battle, when he’d charged the enemy, when defeat was not even a consideration. He considered how it would be to have her so near, to hold her briefly, knowing he could not hold her forever. He would find a piece of heaven in his hell, and he would suffer for it later when it was gone, but for those few moments—

“A quadrille?” Lady Alicia chirped, interrupting his wayward thoughts. “Would a quadrille suit?”

“Yes.”

“Lovely.” She wrote on her dance card with endearing concentration, then peered up at him. “Shall I write it on your card?”

Gentlemen generally carried a card in their jackets to keep up with their dance partners. He hadn’t expected to dance so he hadn’t bothered with one. “I’ll remember.”

“I shall look forward to it with great anticipation.”

“As will I.” When had he become such an accomplished liar? He turned to Mary. “I was hoping you would honor me with a dance as well.”

“I would be delighted, and as it so happens I am currently free.”

He held out his arm, and she placed her hand on it. As they walked onto the dance floor, he constantly scanned the twirling couples. His confidence began to grow. He simply needed to remain aware of who was about and where they moved.

Then she was in his arms and his surroundings became the last thing on his mind. He wasn’t certain he’d realized exactly how small her waist was until his hand settled in against it. Because of her height, he could easily gaze into her eyes. They sparkled now and her lips tilted up in pleasure. He saw very little evidence of the hoyden she’d once been. She was reserved, polite, a lady any gentleman would be proud to have as his wife.

“You were very kind to her,” she said softly.

“Should I have been a beast?”

“I don’t think you’re capable of that.”

“Do you ever feel as though we don’t truly know each other?”

“Quite often, and yet there are times when I feel as though there is nothing about you that I don’t know. I wasn’t certain you’d ask me to dance.”

“Your aunt insisted.”

Her smile broadened. “You don’t have to always be completely honest with your answers. Now my heart is crushed.”

“It was never my intent to hurt you, Mary.”

Her eyes glimmered. “I was teasing. You mustn’t always be so serious, Sebastian.”

“I fear I know nothing else.”

“You might try smiling at least.”

“I did. Once. After I was wounded. It’s a hideous sight. I smashed the mirror that revealed it to me. You want me to be civilized. I’m not certain I’m capable of it.”

Her own smile withered, and she squeezed his hand that held hers. “Our dance is a start. Simply enjoy it.”

Her smile returned. She was right. He wanted this moment. He should savor it. Without conversation to distract him, he found himself becoming lost in her.

That damned freckle on the upper swell of her left breast kept drawing his attention. If he’d just ask her how she came to have it, he’d no doubt lose all interest in it. But how did one word such an inquiry?
I daresay I was noticing your breast . . .

In truth he was noticing everything about her. No lady in this room compared with her—

He rammed into someone, stumbled, stepped on Mary’s hem, heard material rip, followed by her gasp.

“Watch where you’re go—” A voice he recognized began, then stopped.

He spun around and found himself staring at Fitzwilliam.

“Apologies, Your Grace,” he said. “It is I who should have been watching.”

The implication was clear. Sebastian was lacking. At that moment he wanted to plant his fist in the man’s face. If he hadn’t felt Mary’s hand come to rest on his arm, he might have done something he’d later regret.

Glancing down, he saw her clutching the fabric at her waist. “I need to see to getting this taken care of. Would you be so kind as to escort me off the floor?”

Kind? Nothing about him was kind. Still he did as she asked.

“It looks beyond repair,” he told her.

“It’s not nearly as bad as it appears. They’ll have a seamstress in the retiring room who’ll put things to rights quick enough. Ladies are always stepping on their hems.”

“I knew dancing would be a dreadful notion. I’m sorry I subjected you to it.”

They were away from the dancers now, near the doorway that would take her to the stairs.

“Don’t be silly. I enjoyed it. I hope to have a chance to dance with you again.”

Never. Never again.
But he merely nodded and strode away, leaving her to tend to her torn gown.

F
ortunately there was no line to the seamstress and the woman was quick of fingers. It wasn’t long before Mary was back in the ballroom. She spied her quarry standing with a group of gentlemen. She plastered a smile on her face and glided over with all the grace and poise she could muster.

“Gentlemen, forgive my intrusion,” she said, smiling even more brightly, batting her eyelashes as though a cinder had flown into her eyes. “My lord Fitzwilliam, may I have a word?”

“Shortly. As soon as I’m finished—”

“This is important. I fear it can’t wait.”

“A man is a fool,” Lord Chesney said, “to spend his time prattling with men when he can be in the company of a beautiful woman.”

“You’re quite right, of course,” Fitzwilliam said, before offering Mary his arm.

She waited until they were in an alcove, hidden from prying eyes, before she let her anger seethe to the surface. “You did it on purpose.”

“What’s that, sweeting?”

His pretended innocence only served to anger her further. “Bumped into Keswick.”

“What an absurd notion. He crossed into
my
path. Yet as a gentleman of the first order, I took the blame in order to spare him the humiliation.”

“You spared him nothing.”

“Do not take that tone with me. You are to be my wife.”

“That does not make me your property.”

“According to the law it does.” He slammed his eyes closed, took a breath, then opened them. “Good God, what are we doing here, Mary? We had a bit of a snuffle on the dance floor. Hardly worth scathing words and anger. Barging into him would have also served to embarrass you. I’d have not done it.” He touched her cheek. “You are too precious to me.”

This was the closest he’d come to declaring he might have strong feelings for her. That he cared, she had no doubt. But he’d never given voice to the strength of his affections. It was her understanding that few men did. For them, actions spoke louder and Fitzwilliam had never given her any cause to doubt his fondness for her.

Yes, in all likelihood the incident was Sebastian’s fault. His gaze had been riveted on her with such intensity that she’d scarcely been able to breathe. For a few moments it had seemed as though they were the only two in the ballroom, in the entire world. She’d become lost in the wonder of him. His strength, his masculinity were so apparent that he made other men seem lacking.

In retrospect, the sudden end to their dance had come at a most fortuitous moment, before she’d made an utter fool of herself and asked him to escort her onto the terrace so they might have a moment of privacy. She wasn’t certain what she intended to happen during it, but it could not have boded well.

“My apologies for the accusations,” she said contritely.

“None needed. Now let’s return to the festivities before our absence is noted. I’d not have your reputation tarnished before we are wed.”

“Nor afterward either, I should think.” She gave him a teasing smile, which he returned with one that held the promise of passion.

“I must confess that I am very much looking forward to having you alone,” he said with a seductive whisper.

She couldn’t mistake his meaning. She’d hardly given any thought to the intimacies of marriage. She felt her skin grow warm with a flush. She was certain she would find pleasure in his bed. But she suddenly found herself wondering if it would be enough.