Page 6 of Taken By the Duke of Stone

The woman tittered and ducked her head, hiding her pleased smile.

"Anything else?" he enquired.

Lady Hannah looked startled, blue eyes flying up to meet his, "I-uh- I write letters to my cousins in Scotland. I write often. I'm excellent at that, too."

He kept his expression carefully blank, "But do you enjoy it?"

She blinked at him, "of course, Your Grace. I was hailed as having the finest penmanship in my year when I was a student at Mrs. Ravensbruck's finishing school for genteel ladies."

Victor remembered his mother repeatedly trying to press him into enrolling his sister in the finishing school. He had put his foot down about the matter much to his mother's chagrin and she never ceased to remind him that Georgie's outspokenness and free spirit was his own fault.

The two were quiet for a while, just going through the intricate motions of the waltz.

"And yourself, Your Grace?" Lady Hannah remembered to ask, "what are you interests?"

"I like to ride," he replied, an answer as mechanical as hers, "Do you ride, Lady Hannah?"

"Uh," she looked nervous for a second but quickly pasted on a smile, "Of course, it is one of my many interests."

Victor was tempted to invite Lady Hannah for a ride the next day just to see her squirm. From her reaction, he could tell that not only was riding not one of her vast interests, but she was also terrified of it. It was a good thing that he was neither cruel nor did he have any intention of spending further time with her.

As soon as the dance came to an end, the lady dropped into a deep curtsy.

He waited for her to get up and then offered her his arm. Victor all but dragged her off the dance floor and back into the dowager duchess's side.

He was beginning to suspect she didn't know the difference between enjoying something and being good at it.

"My dance card is full, Your Grace," she said, "But I managed to reserve the waltz."

She shouldn't have bothered since he had no intention of taking her for a spin on the dance floor. If he indicated that he was interested in Lady Hannah, his mother would find a way to get them to the altar by the end of the week.

"Is that Lord Charleston?" he asked no one in particular, staring off into the distance, "I have meant to discuss something urgent with him."

"Now?" The dowager duchess cried, "Must it be now?"

"If you will excuse me," he said, "It was a pleasure to meet you, Lady Hannah."

She blinked at him, shocked by the abrupt end of their conversation. Then she dropped into a curtsy, "it was a pleasure as well, Your Grace."

"Mother," he nodded at her, and before she could get in a word, he had marched off, long strides carrying him far from the pair.

From across the room, Lord Dillon caught his eye and raised a glass at him, mouth curled up into a mocking smile.

CHAPTER 2

Ignoring him, the Duke made a sharp turn towards the French doors at the side of the room. It opened into a secluded balcony that overlooked the gardens below and it would give him some much needed reprieve from his mother and the rest of society.

He could only tolerate both of those things in small doses.

The balcony was poorly lit and blessedly empty and he gratefully tucked himself into the farthest corner, hoping that anybody who came out here wouldn't even notice him.

Cool air ruffled his hair as he stood there, itching for a cigar. But most of all, he wanted to be at home. Not his house in Mayfair though, the place never really felt like his home.

The one place he felt most at peace was in the country, with his steed and endless stretch of land.

Lost in his nostalgia, he didn't realize that he was no longer alone till he heard a sharp curse.

"Blighted corsets," the lady bit out.

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