Page 11 of The Duke's Vice

“Nice to meet you,” he said before taking a sip of the punch he was holding. “Although you look familiar. Have we met before?” There was a glint to his eye and a hint of amusement in his question.

Thankfully for Beatrice, who was busy remembering how to form words, Charlotte stepped in. “I don’t think so, Your Grace. Not officially, that is. However, we’ve been to many balls so far this season and there has been much talk about her. Isn’t that right, Beatrice?”

Beatrice’s heart thudded again, however this time was not because of infatuation, but out of embarrassment.

She opened her mouth only to close it again. Heavens, how could this be any more embarrassing for her. First she’s caught ogling this man and now her mother is parading her out in front of him.

“And now that Lord Granville’s family is out sick, I hear Beatrice is the one to watch for. Quick, Your Grace, you should ask her for a dance before her card gets filled up.” Charlotte teased.

Beatrice could feel the color drain from her face. This is it. This is how she would die. Not on some grand adventure in the Serengeti but here, in Lady Swanson’s ballroom.

The nervous laughter erupted out of Beatrice and she waved her hands in front of her face. “Oh no. I’m sure the Duke has already committed himself to other dance partners. I wouldn’t want to impose-”

“I would love to.”

“We just got here and I’m sure he… wait. What?”

A smile widened on his face. “I said I would love to.”

Beatrice blinked, completely shocked at the turn of events.

Charlotte clasped her hands tightly. “Wonderful!”

“Let me just put down my cup and I’ll be back to join you.” The Duke tilted his head and made his way to the refreshment table to set down his glass.

The two women watched as he walked back to them.

Beatrice leaned into her mother. “Mother. I don’t know this man! What are you doing?”

Charlotte rolled her bottom lip in thought. “Now is not the time to worry about all of that.” Charlotte tucked an errant curl behind Beatrice’s ear. Beatrice must have looked out of sorts. “Look. Like most men his age and background some view himas a rake, but nothing scandalous.” Charlotte glanced back to the approaching man. “Nothing that I have caught wind of at least.”

Memories of tongues touching and gripping hands flashed before Beatrice’s eyes. Charlotte eyed her daughter. “Just go and dance with the man. It’ll be fine.”

Graham returned and offered his arm. “May I?”

With one more look to her mother she slipped her arm though his and let him lead her into the center of the dance floor.

She usually liked to dance on the outside, that way when the dance ended she could make a quick escape. Whenever her partner pulled her to the center she felt as if all eyes were on her.

However, with Graham leading her, her eyes were only his broad back. When he turned back to her she forgot the rest of the room was there.

He stepped closer to her and wrapped his arm around her waist pulling her in. The familiar scent of sweet smoke and something else she couldn’t quite put her finger on surrounded her. This had to be the man from last night. She has never smelled this combination before last night.

She tilted her head up causing the curl to break free again. He reached up and tucked it behind her ear. She saw the slight silver scar across the back of his hand and gasped.

It was him.

Ezra watched as the realization spread across Beatrice’s face. When her brow furrowed followed by her brown eyes widening he wanted to laugh but thought better of it.

He tightened his hold on her and began the dance. His fingers stretched along her back, his body humming with the way her curves fit against him.

Much to his dismay he hadn’t been able to get this little vixen out of his mind since last night. Here in the light of day she appeared to be the perfect daughter of theton. But the woman he met last night was one for danger and adventure. He had trouble reconciling the two in his mind. But he had a feeling he would enjoy the challenge.

“How are you faring today, Lady Beatrice?” He kept his tone conversational, although it was taking every bit of his self-control not to ask her about last night.

She eyed him curiously. She could sense a trap which meant she was smart. He liked that.

“I’m well, thank you.” Her response was curt.

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