Page 16 of Not the Duke's Virgin

Gritting her teeth behind a bland smile, Victoria accepted, allowing him to lead her to the dance floor. She went mechanically through the graceful steps of the quadrille, Oliver’s hand pressing rather too firmly against her waist. Mercifully, it was a short set, and Victoria extricated herself from his grasp with relief.

“You are a sublime dancer, as always,” Oliver praised glibly as he led her out of the dance floor.

Victoria forced a smile, ready to make her excuses and escape. But they had no sooner joined Madeline at the edge of the room than the music swelled into a waltz.

Out of the crowd stepped a man who could only be the Duke of Hayward himself, looking like some fallen angel swathed in black velvet and pristine white linen. An audible murmur rippled through the room at his unexpected presence.

With his harsh, handsome features set in their customary scowl, the Duke looked as cheerful as a storm cloud. He headed straight for Victoria with relentless focus, the crowd parting the red sea. Victoria’s heart stuttered in her chest. What was he doing here?

Halting before her, the Duke executed a perfect, if abrupt, bow. “Lady Victoria, can we have one dance?” His dark brown eyes bored into hers, daring her to refuse.

Victoria hesitated, unnerved by his sudden appearance and the barely-leashed intensity rolling off him in waves. But with all eyes on them, she had no choice but to drop into a curtsy.

“Of course, Your Grace.”

Ignoring Oliver’s sputtering, the Duke grasped her hand and waist and whirled her into the sea of dancing couples. Despite her trepidation, as they moved through the elegant steps, Victoria could not help but acknowledge that the Duke was an exquisite dancer, his hand sure at her back, guiding but not trapping her. And this close, with his sculpted features softened by the flickering candlelight, he was dangerously handsome, indeed.

Then his dark brown eyes met hers, cold and assessing, and her budding awareness withered. This man was not her friend or her lover. He was an adversary who likely meant her ruin. She must not lose sight of that.

Silence stretched out between them until the Duke finally spoke, his rich voice low, “Quite the performance you and my brother did this evening. Tell me, does he think prancing about with you in public proves the sincerity of his so-called attachment?”

Victoria bristled, matching his icy stare with one of her own. “Your brother has been naught but a gentleman. Which is more than can be said for you at this moment.”

The Duke arched a sardonic eyebrow. “Playing the innocent will win you no favor with me. I am no wide-eyed schoolboy to be taken in by feminine wiles.” He surveyed her critically. “Although I will admit that you play your part convincingly. My brother chose his actress well.”

Victoria nearly stumbled, catching herself just in time. So he thought her a deceitful coquette, a willing conspirator in Oliver’s schemes. Indignation momentarily loosened her tongue.

“You are quite mistaken about me, Your Grace. Perhaps if you troubled yourself to look beneath the surface, you would see that not everything is as it appears.”

The Duke looked briefly surprised by her bold retort, before his expression hardened once more. “Is that so? Then by all means, enlighten me as to what lies beneath this facade.”

When she hesitated, he smiled coldly.

“As I thought. You put on a fine show, Madam, but it will take more than veiled words to convince me of your innocence.”

Victoria felt her cheeks burn. How dare this arrogant man condemn her, knowing nothing of the truth? But she bit back an angry response. She must not let him goad her into some telling outburst.

Instead, she merely inclined her head. “Think what you will of me, Your Grace. I know my own heart.” Looking deliberately away from him, she added, “Lord Oliver and I… understand each other quite well.”

She peeked cautiously back at the Duke. For just a moment, his stony facade seemed to crack, something that looked oddly like disappointment flickering in his eyes. But then it was gone, and he let out a grim chuckle.

“Is that so? Well then, perhaps you will not mind enlightening me as to the precise nature of this understanding.” His voice dripped with sarcasm. “What promises has my dear brother made to you, I wonder?”

Victoria’s step faltered at his scathing tone. Wrong-footed, she grasped for a convincing reply.

“Why, he… he has made no specific promises as yet, only showered me with courtesies. As any gentleman would when enamored of a lady.”

Even to her ears, the words rang hollow.

A muscle flexed in the Duke’s jaw. “Courtesies? Is that what you call allowing a lady’s reputation to be compromised through a sham attachment?” His eyes bored into hers. “What about riches and titles? Or has he merely capitalized on your feminine timidity and trusting nature?”

Stung, Victoria jerked her chin up. “You misjudge me, Your Grace. I am neither weak nor desirous of riches.” She faltered only a moment before adding softly, “I care for your brother. From the heart.”

Instantly, she regretted the lie, feeling it sear her very soul. She couldn’t bring herself to meet the Duke’s piercing gaze. Surely he saw right through her feeble ruse.

But all he said was, “Look at me.”

The quiet command compelled her to lift her eyes to his. Their unrelenting depths seemed to spear right through to her core. Victoria felt stripped bare before him, utterly exposed.

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