The Duke of Morewether’s Secret (7 page)

“Oh dear Lord.” Christian made an effort to suppress his own laughter. “You’re an absolutely awful dancer.” He yanked them both upright and managed to get back in line with the other swirling couples.

“I told you.”

“I know, but I thought you were teasing. You’re really dreadful.”

Thea couldn’t defend herself. She was too busy laughing and counting her steps in order to avoid another disaster.

“Let’s get out of here before someone is maimed.” He pulled her off the dance floor and out the terrace door.

Chapter Six

She was still laughing even as Christian guided her from the safety of the balcony out into the treacherous, scandal-infested sculptured lawn.

She said she couldn’t dance. Christ, that was an understatement.

Less a tactical retreat and more a bid for self preservation, he’d seen the terrace door as salvation. His moment of triumph in getting the stubborn and elusive Greek to dance had turned into a circus, and her humiliation was entirely his fault. By rights, she should be furious with him. He would understand if she was livid, but, surprisingly, she wasn’t and he couldn’t begin to understand why not.

Her laughter was infectious, though. The full, throaty sound rolled over him, and he found himself joining in with her, regardless of the humiliation of only minutes before. In his mind, he was already thinking of ways to stop a hemorrhage of gossip. He may be a good-natured scamp or, as more of the
ton
probably thought of him, a wolfish rogue, but he was a sheep in wolf’s clothing. He was rigid in protecting his family from gossip, and this incident would be handled with his usual proficiency.

But Thea didn’t seem to be allowing any of this to bother her. Perhaps, she didn’t understand the full magnitude of what she was up against?

Christian made a serious effort to stop laughing. “I don’t think you understand how bad that was in there.”

That only made her laugh harder. “Surely you’re jesting, Your Grace. I begged you not to make me go through with it. I knew exactly what would happen.”

Even understanding the depth of the situation, Christian couldn’t suppress his smile. “I thought you were exaggerating.”

“Maybe you did.” Thea shook her head and looked to the heavens. “But what I really think is you thought you could be the one to make me dance like a ballerina.”

Christian ducked his head, sheepish. “Perhaps.”

“I had you figured from the beginning. How much did you win?”

“Win? What do you mean?”

Thea ran her hand along a low hedge and ruffled the leaves with her gloved palm. “You don’t recall the wager that set your plan in motion?” Her voice was filled with skepticism.

“Oh right, the wager.” How could he have forgotten the wager?

“Mmmmm.” She nodded clearly not believing he’d forgotten. “You’ll be giving your ill-gotten gains to Lady Dalton’s charity, won’t you?”

“If that will make you happy, then most certainly.”

Thea smiled at him, apparently forgiven.

“I can’t believe you’re laughing.”

“It’s either that or cry. Make no mistake — I’m mortified, but I’ll get over it. I imagine the crowd will chalk it all up to the uncultured interloper.” Thea shook her head and grimaced. “I’ll wager my problem of coming up with excuses for why I can’t dance is over.” Unbelievably, she chuckled again.

“You’re not angry with me then?”

Thea turned her head towards him, narrowed her eyes, and looked at him long and hard as if she was still deciding. The smile returned, and Christian exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “No. I’m not angry. I should have put my foot down. Besides, I can’t really expect anything more from you.”

Christian didn’t think she meant to insult him, but he felt maligned nonetheless. “Is that a cultural difference I’m not aware of?” he asked. Thea raised her eyebrows. This time is was her turn to be confused. “Why would you expect nothing better from me?”`

Thea pulled at their linked arms effectively stopping them under an oak tree. They were far enough away from any other couple to avoid their conversation being overheard. “Oh, Christian, I apologize. I never meant to insult you. I only meant I know your type, the type to rise to a wager,” she explained. “My father was a rogue, too, you see.”

“You didn’t like your father?”

Thea shrugged. “I loved my father.” Her answer was cryptic. He hoped she would elucidate so, when she turned from him and headed further into the depths of the garden, he eagerly followed. “He was like you, your reputation.”

“I hate that you think you know so much about me and my reputation.”

Thea glanced back at him again, her expression harder to discern in the darkness. “I can hardly help it. I’ve heard plenty about you from every member of the
ton
. You’re a favorite topic of discussion.”

“Besides some youthful indiscretions, really, what have you heard about me that is so awful?”

“You admitted your mistress burned her clothes in your foyer only a couple of months ago? How old are you now? Thirty? That’s not so youthful.”

“I told you it was the garden, and I am two and thirty,” he corrected. Was this how he was really seen? If he was so unlikable, why were so many of the
ton
clambering for his attention? Invitations constantly deluged him. How and when did he become so frivolous? “I’m working to perfect a change.” He looked inward for a moment, something Christian was not used to doing, and recognized that he meant it.

The half moon disappeared behind the ever present London clouds. She asked, “You know my deep, dark dancing secret. What’s yours? Why don’t you dance?”

“As you saw, I do dance. Very well as a matter of fact. I’m not sure you noticed with your head down the whole time.”

She tossed him a withering look but it lost its effect when she rolled her eyes. “I noticed. You could partner with Terpsichore herself.”

“The Muse of dance? Thea, you flatter me.” He touched his hand to his heart in an expressive, over-the-top gesture.

“So then, why don’t you dance?”

Christian sighed. “If I tell you why, it won’t make your already dubious opinion of me any better.”

Thea’s eyebrows rose on her forehead. “Well now you have to tell me.”

“Because it’s not fair to the ladies.”

Thea snorted. “This ought to be interesting. Please continue.”

“It’s not fair to the young ladies. It gives them and their bulldog mothers unnecessary hope.” He paused and glanced at her before continuing. “It gives the other” —
chose your words carefully here
— “women unfortunate … misconceptions and unrealistic … expectations.”

Thea nodded as if she understood the underlying sentiment. “You could dance with Francesca or Anna. Your mother.”

Christian shook his head and wrinkled his nose. “I find it is best not to open the flood gates.”

“And yet —” Thea paused in the grass and tilted her head slightly to the side as she eyed him “— you forced me to dance with you.”

Christian blinked at her. Dear God, he certainly had.

Thea smiled at him again as they emerged from a copse of trees. The moon shone on her face and he saw she was sublime. No wonder he wanted to dance with her. She didn’t speak, and he didn’t want her to inadvertently say anything to make him feel bad about himself, so he quickly changed the subject.

“So your father is Viscount Ashbrook?” He’d done some inquiring of his own. “How is it the daughter of a peer never learned to dance?”

“Was the viscount,” she amended his information. “Now Ashbrook is some distant cousin of mine I’ve never met and who has not even the slightest interest in meeting me.” Again she shrugged. She seemed to do that every time something affected her which she didn’t wish to acknowledge. “I had a dance instructor. I was hopeless, and he quit in tears. He actually sent my father a bill for a broken toe. Instead I studied everything I could get my hands on about the subject that interested my father, Classical Greece, in an effort to spend time with him, not that it made any difference to him.”

“Regardless, you certainly seem to have fit into
ton
society, except for when it comes to salon lectures,” Christian told her, accompanied by Flirty Grin #2. He steered her to a secluded bench surrounded by rose bushes. The scent of the flowers wafted over them in a light breeze.

“My regrettable inability to dance notwithstanding.”

“Indeed,” He grinned and nodded in agreement. “But still …”

“That’s just integrity, Your Grace.” Thea smoothed her skirts as she sat on the bench and looked at him standing several respectable feet away. “Even we heathens have integrity. Possibly, we invented it. You know, the Greeks invented just about everything.”

“You are a marvelously brilliant and beautiful people.” Christian gave her a short bow.

The lady granted him a polite smile, although it looked like she was trying not to be pleased by his compliment.

“You don’t dance in Greek society then?” “Of course we dance. Quite exuberantly, in fact.” She was adorable when she was indignant — even mildly indignant.

Christian made a sweeping motion with his arm indicating the large grassy area available for a demonstration.

“You don’t think I’m going to dance for you, do you? Now?” She was even more adorable when she was embarrassed.

He raised his eyebrows suggesting that, indeed, that is exactly what he was suggesting.

“There isn’t any music,” she pointed out.

“I’ll hum.”

Her expression settled into a frustrated, mutinous line. “I don’t want to dance.”

“You don’t have to.” Christian shrugged. “Of course, I’ll assume the Greeks don’t have any interesting dances. That would explain a lot, I suppose.”

Indignant Thea was back. Delicious.

“What would it explain exactly?” she asked, with an arched eyebrow.

Christian shrugged with as much inciting mystery as possible. “Probably nothing.”

Thea gasped and a knowing smile lit her face. “You want to see me embarrassed again. You are an awful man.” Her voice was low and throaty, flirting with him. He wanted to kiss her. They were in the perfect place — hidden from others in the garden by the hedge of roses. There was enough light from the moon and scattered torches to see the shadows play across her cheekbones and highlight her smile.

“You’ve seen me embarrassed; it seems only fair.”

“When were you embarrassed?”

“You don’t recall the dinner party?” Christian sat on the opposite end of her bench. They were both angled in so their knees nearly touched. “Dinner was embarrassing. Charades was embarrassing. The whole evening was a nightmare.”

To say the very least.

Thea leaned forward. “Is that why you left early?”

Christian didn’t answer because, now that the moment had passed, he knew precisely how childish the act had been.

“Well, then, fair is fair.” Thea stood and straightened her skirts. “This dance is normally performed by men all over the Ottoman Empire. Also, this isn’t really the right kind of dress, They wear an elaborate robe so something will be lost since there isn’t a full skirt to float about. And I don’t have a hat.”

“Enough stalling. Get to dancing.”

Slowly Thea raised her arms in the air and rotated slowly to the right. The spin accelerated until she was spinning steadily in a whir of colored silk and black hair. She’d made about fifteen full circles, completely captivating Christian with her intensity, before she lost her balance and toppled to the grass. Christian leapt to his feet, alarmed she might have injured herself, but she sat on her bum in the grass, palm to her forehead, laughing.

“Are you happy now?” Thea asked.

Christian sunk to the grass next to her, brought his knees up and wrapped his arms around them. “That was amazing. What was that?”

“Whirling Dervish,” she explained. “The Sufi priests perform it as part of a ceremony.”

“Do they all go down at the end, too?”

“No,” she giggled. “That part was all me.”

“I think I liked that part best.” Now he really wanted to kiss her. When was the last time he felt trepidation in kissing a woman? Fourteen? Sixteen years of age? He was always confident his advances would be well received but, with Thea, he wasn’t sure. Instead of a kiss, he reached over and gathered a lock of her hair which had come loose during her wild spinning and tucked it behind her ear. His fingers lingered there for a moment, and Thea paused, clearly aware of the near caress.

She gathered her wits a bit more, sat straighter and adjusted her bodice although to Christian’s mind there was nothing amiss in that general area. He ought to know, he’d been keenly aware of her bodice for quite some time now.

“When the priests dance, it’s captivating.” She glanced at him, but then looked away quickly. “They never trip.” Thea gave a nervous laugh.

“I’m sorry if I embarrassed you inside earlier.” Christian was truly remorseful. His reputation would withstand the incident, but her reputation was more tenuous.

“I’m fine. Really,” she assured him when he looked at her with skepticism. “I think the
ton
looks at me as an interesting, exotic animal. Besides, I’m not staying in London forever. I have a few projects to finish while I’m here, and then I’ll return home.”

Christian stood and extended his hand to pull her up as well. “What are these projects?”

Thea lifter her shoulders in a mysterious shrug. “Family business,” she told him cryptically.

“If there’s some way I can be of assistance, any way at all I can help …” He let the sentence drift into silence. He was distracted by her nearness, her scent, her soft eyes reflecting the same look he was certain was in his eyes at that moment. He still held her hands in his own. A soft tug and she would be close enough to wrap in his arms. He broke their gaze and dropped his eyes to her lips, and he was entranced.

“Thea …”

“Mmmmhmmmm.”

He took a step and dipped his head to find her lips as she raised her mouth to his. Instinct took over and all his nervousness gave way to the flash of sensation that rushed over him at their contact. His palm found its way to the sensitive flesh of her neck and, using his thumb on her jaw, he tilted her head to his desired angle, and he deepened the kiss.