Page 19 of His Enemy Duchess

“Seen?” He grimaced. “So, you can’t dance. Have you ever danced?”

Sophia immediately stepped on his foot in a manner that should have felt vindictive, but judging by the instant flushing of her cheeks, turning a brighter red than before, and the quiet yelp of dismay that slipped past her lips, it appeared to be a timely accident.

“Sorry…”

She was flustered, a sheen of perspiration on her brow, making him think of other exertions that tradition dictated should take place the following night.

Enough, he scolded himself. What was he, a boy with no restraint? He did not even like the woman, with her coarsetongue, atrocious coordination, deceitful mouth, and awful family. He would do well to remember William’s bandaged torso, and all the fatalities before, whenever a sultry thought popped into his head. That would dampen it.

“The other way around,” he said curtly. “Just… follow my lead and move one foot at a time to the rhythm. Do not overthink it.”

They danced. Awkwardly, slowly, and off rhythm, but they danced.

Thomas did his best to ignore the snickering around the dance floor. He was usually lauded for his graceful dancing and had no shortage of partners who danced just as well, so it was a new feeling to him—ridicule. Then again, if he was to marry Sophia tomorrow, he supposed it was a feeling he should acquaint himself with.

“Now, will you explain to me what you are doing?” he asked her abruptly as they promenaded, her arms crossed with his all wrong.

“What am I doing? What areyoudoing?” Sophia winced. “Are you trying to break my wrist?”

He readjusted his hands, though it was still not right. “Not the dancing. Your little fairytale. Have you been going around all night proclaiming your love for me?”

“No! No… just for the past few minutes.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Do we or do we not want this marriage to be believable?”

As they stopped so he could spin her, her feet tangled together, prompting him to lunge to catch her before she fell to the floor.

He pulled her to him, closer than he ought, feeling her fingernails dig into his chest as she clutched at his lapels to keep her balance.

He held her startled gaze. “No, we only need it to be civil. We don’t need to convince anyone—we don’t owe that to anyone.”

He slowly loosened his grip so they could turn in another dizzying circle in time with everyone else, but her hands held onto his lapels for a moment longer.

“They think our marriage will be over by the end of the year,” she said thickly.

“That’s their problem, not mine.” He seized her hands and prized them off him, catching up to the rest of the dancers with another clumsy promenade.

“Oh my stars, you are even worse than I thought.”

“Likewise.”

Sophia patted his chest as if she was dusting him off.

“What are you doing?” he asked, confused. Did she think it was one of the steps?

“Oh, don’t mind me—just checking if the Grand Duke of Heathcote has aheart. Clearly, he doesn’t, as he won’t even bother to fake being happy in his marriage.”

“Because I see no sense in it,” he replied firmly. “The people here know me. They know who I am and what my values are. They would sooner believe I wanted to elope to Gretna Green than that I’d fallen in love withyou.”

“Ah yes, the great Duke, staring down at the rest of us mortals from his lofty heights. No one can ever be enough for him.”

Thomas realized that, somehow, they had picked up their pace and were dancing better than before, even attracting a bit of attention from the crowd.

Perhaps anger was the medicine to fix Sophia’s ungainly dancing. If only it could be the remedy for a civil marriage, too, for they both had it in abundance.

“I am certain it must have been a terrible hardship to be the only daughter of a wealthy marquess, able to do as you please, with every whim catered to,” he chided sarcastically. “You fooled me into thinking you were wiser than the rest of your ilk. I should have known better—you are just as juvenile.”

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