Page 26 of The Heiress Gets a Duke
“How horrible of him. I’ll remember to take him to task on the matter the next time we dance.”
“No need. The trick was on him. I happen to like lizards and took the poor, frightened thing home where he lived out the rest of his days in peace.” Lady Helena’s eyes softened in concern as she asked, “If not Lord Atherton, what has you looking so pale?”
“The duke has arrived.”
There was no need to explain which one. After the Ashcroft dinner party, everyone seemed to know that he was interested in acquiring one of the “Crenshaw heiresses,” as they had been named.Acquiringone of them. It was the exact phrase August had heard an elderly lord use in reference to the situation. As if they were objects or exoticoddities to collect and admire on a shelf. The temporary good humor Lady Helena had roused in her vanished as anger roiled in to replace it.
Her friend nodded in understanding, her expression turning grave. “He rarely attends these sorts of events. Since he is here, I expect he has come to make his intentions known.”
It wasn’t a question, but August nodded just the same. “That is what Mother and Camille believed would happen tonight.”
“Being seen dancing with your sister would cause quite an uproar, especially if he does not dance with another partner. Everyone will know that he has chosen her.”
“Yes, that’s what Mother believes.”
Lady Helena chewed gently on her bottom lip, looking uncomfortable and as if she had more to say on the matter.
“Is there more? There’s more. Please tell me. You’ve been such a help to me with customs and manners; please don’t mince words now.” It was true. Lady Helena’s subtle advice and cues had saved August making a social gaffe more than once.
Leaning toward her, Lady Helena said, “Forgive me if I am overstepping, but it seems that your sister does not welcome this particular match.” She waited for August to nod in confirmation before continuing. “Then am I correct in assuming that she would intend to turn down an offer should one be made?”
August nodded again. “Perhaps.” She was genuinely frightened that somehow Mother and Papa would figure out a way to goad Violet into accepting. She did not like to believe it would go that far, but it was not out of the question. The carriage ride home after the dinner party had revealed as much. And then what? The only man she had ever desired in a physical sense would become her brother-in-law? They would be expected to carry on as if nothing had happened? The very idea of it had her feeling nauseous and unsettled, as if her skin was being pulled too tight. How would it feel to know that ultimately he had chosen her sister?
“If the duke were to dance exclusively with her and abetrothal announcement were not forthcoming, then many would view that negatively.” The other woman’s voice pulled her out of those dark thoughts. “Unfortunately, Miss Violet would bear the brunt of their speculations, no matter if she was the one to turn him down.”
“Oh dear.” August understood exactly what she meant. It would not be as terrible as a broken engagement, but people would wonder, and Violet would become fodder for gossip. August rose to her feet, scanning the crowd for some sight of her sister. While she was certain the family could weather any sort of scandal that would arise from the nonengagement, it would be best to avoid that situation entirely. “Please excuse me. I have to find Violet and try to intervene.” If she could only somehow help Violet avoid Rothschild, then the whole thing could simply go away, at least for one night.
“Of course. Please let me know if I can be of assistance. I have thwarted my share of would-be grooms.” Lady Helena took the coupe from her, now empty of champagne.
Laughter welled within her despite the gravity of the moment. She knew that without a doubt she would invite Lady Helena over soon to hear more details of that particular story. “Thank you for your help.”
August whirled and struggled to make her way through the crush. More people came every hour, it seemed, until there was hardly room to walk around the perimeter of the dance floor. She had barely moved six feet when she was brought up short by a group of several older couples chatting in front of her. With the wall to one side of the group, she was stuck unless she darted through the throngs of people heading to the center of the room to dance.
“Pardon me.” She made one last attempt to move through the group and smiled at a matron who regarded her with a severely raised brow. “If you would be so kind as to...” The man to her left moved back, and he was followed by the fellow at his elbow. “Oh, thank you so much. I must—”
The words lodged in her throat as the group parted to reveal the Duke of Rothschild standing on the other side.He wore the same wolfish smile from earlier. She understood immediately that he was the reason the couples were so obliging of her predicament. They had been parting for him, not her.
“Good evening, Miss Crenshaw.” His voice was smooth and rich, and some part of her she couldn’t face directly thrilled at the way it massaged its way down her spine.
He was so striking in his black-and-white evening wear that it was a moment before she could find her tongue. “Good evening, Your Grace. I am afraid my sister is not here.” It wasn’t precisely a lie. She wasn’t there in the immediate vicinity. “She left early.” Fine, that was a lie.
He appeared impassive, except for the fact that his eyes still held a devilish sparkle. “How unfortunate.” Perhaps he was putting on an act for their small audience, but he genuinely did not appear to care that his plan had been thwarted. There was the briefest of pauses before he gestured toward the dancers. “I would hate to waste a good waltz. Perhaps we could dance instead.”
He might as well have said perhaps we could row a boat down the Thames. The possibility of dancing with him had never crossed her mind. Should she accept? Honestly, she wanted to spend as little time in his company as possible. It seemed safer that way. Would it be unbearably rude to decline in front of their audience? The group seemed very concerned with their exchange.
The opening notes of “The Blue Danube” started playing. “I promised the next waltz to Lord Ware.” She had forgotten. The poor man had probably come to collect her, and she had been nowhere to be found. She started to turn and stopped when she realized that leaving him would leave the duke free to go find Violet. As if he sensed the internal battle in her head, he offered his arm to her.
“I do not think he would object.” When she glanced up, he inclined his head toward Lady Helena, who was graciously accepting Lord Ware’s arm in her absence. Lord Ware gave August a tight smile as he led her friend to the floor.
Left with no other choice to make, she lightly pressedher fingertips to Rothschild’s arm and allowed him to lead her. The crowd swirled out of their way like Moses parting the Red Sea. Rothschild had not uttered a single word, only held his gaze straight ahead as if their opening a path for him was his due. And it was. This was his world.
It was not until that very second that she understood the power this man held. He might not have inherited wealth, but he had inherited something even more valuable to those who traded in that currency. Respect. Reputation. Standing. Whatever word it was known by, it all came down to power. He held the power here.
When his arm slipped around her waist and his hand settled on her back, she felt the strength in his loose hold. Restrained power. As she rested her hand upon that arm, she could not help but note the flex of the muscle beneath the light touch of her fingers. She remembered the strength of that arm with its unrestrained power as it had landed a blow to his opponent. A strange flutter moved through her belly when his gloved fingers closed gently around hers as he swept them into their first turn. His strength was evident in every movement and touch. Much to her dismay, she understood now that she found it very attractive on him.
“Are you all right, Miss Crenshaw?” Genuine concern shone in his eyes, and she realized that her breathing had increased to match the pace of her heart.
“I... Yes.” The blue of his irises was the exact shade of a Newport summer day. How had she not noticed before? Perhaps it was the lighting. Or perhaps it was the odd way the room whirled around them as he took her into another turn, making her more aware of him as everything else blurred. Her fingers tightened reflexively, indecently on his, but he only smiled in response.
