Page 32 of The Heiress Gets a Duke
He took her arm before she could disappear. She stared at his hand, and then her fierce gaze held his. “Then why kiss me?”
The slightest grin tilted her lips. “Because I knew it would be my last chance.” With that, she was gone.
Chapter 10
I shall not change my course because those who assume to be better than I desire it.
Victoria Claflin Woodhull
August did not dare stop outside the library door in case Hereford and the other man came back. Even though her knees were trembling, she hurried through a series of rooms that would take her to the ladies’ dressing room. She forced measured steps and did not stop until she slipped inside the door.
The room was vacant of guests, and the strains of a waltz coming from the ballroom assured her that it would stay that way for the next several moments. The walls were covered in pale green watered silk, with clusters of settees and spindly chairs upholstered in a darker jade. A maid in the corner of the room came to attention, but August smiled and waved her away. She needed to think, and she did that best alone. She darted to the safety of one of several dressing screens scattered about. Delicate, hand-painted silk stretched across four panels to complete an elaborate scene of lotus blossoms floating on a lake. August could not help but wonder at the expense of the obviously extravagant item when Camille’s own sitting room languished in faded disrepair.
Sinking onto a padded stool, she touched her swollenlips. Her other hand went to her bodice, making absolutely certain that she was covered. What had she been thinking? Following him into the library had been completely foolish. Kissing him might have been the most irrational thing she had ever done. If anyone had discovered them alone together, it would have been devastating.Worse!The entire course of her life would be altered.
Dropping her head into her hands, she contemplated the sheer foolishness of her actions. Max had always teased her that her boldness would get her into trouble someday. He had meant it playfully, not like this. Neither of them would have suspected she would do something so foolish. When faced with the prospect of never having the opportunity again, August had decided to kiss Rothschild. Her spur-of-the-moment reasoning had been that it would be a quick test to prove to herself that it wouldn’t be as notable as she remembered. She had half convinced herself that their first kiss had been so exhilarating because it had been at the fight. The night had been alive with drama and violence. It was that, and not the duke, that had made it so exciting.
How could she have known that it would get so out of hand, or that she would be so completely naive and unprepared to deal with the feelings he ignited in her? That he possessed an uncanny power over her? That she would still feel alive with sensation even after leaving him? Her pulse still seemed to throb throughout her entire body.
A soft and unwilling laugh escaped her. Who would have known that Rothschild was the one who could unravel her so easily? No amount of analysis would have made her accept that finding had she not experienced it for herself. Now that she knew, what did she plan to do with that information? She shook her head at her own foolishness. The most important thing was that she now knew to be very careful to avoid being alone with him in the future.
Catching sight of herself in the small oval mirror on the wall, she set about pinning the strands of hair that had become mussed with their kisses. If one good thing had come of it, it was the knowledge that such kisses were possible,so when she decided to find a husband, perhaps she could find one who would kiss her like that.
“I, for one, was surprised she knew how to waltz,” said a voice as a pair of women rushed into the dressing room, completely disrupting August’s solitude. Thank goodness for dressing screens. “I thought dancing was forbidden to Puritans.” The proclamation was punctuated by giggles and the rustle of skirts.
August paused. While the woman might have been talking about Camille or even Violet, Augustknewshe was speaking of her and the waltz with Rothschild. A lump settled in the pit of her stomach.
“Now, Cecilia,” came the voice of her friend. “You know her grandmother was astage dancer. It runs in her blood.” Both women let out peals of laughter as the muted click of their heels led them across the room to a seating area.
While many of the women she had met in London had been kind and accepting, there were a few who openly disliked the Crenshaw sisters, like Lady Cecelia. The daughter of an earl, she had snubbed both August and Violet from the beginning. Whether she felt her marriage prospects were threatened, or if the aversion ran deeper than that, August hadn’t been able to tell. She had been too busy with Crenshaw Iron Works business and social engagements to allow it to concern her.
“Indeed. Did you know that her mother is called Millie,like a chambermaid?” Another giggle.
“I heard that her motherwasa maid.”
Lady Cecilia tittered before adding, “Then the duke should not be too surprised when his children prefer polishing the furniture to learning Latin. Blood will tell.”
Blood will tell.It was a phrase that had haunted August most of her life. The first time she had heard it had been as a child in a Broadway department store happily enjoying a piece of stick candy while her mother shopped. An elderly, refined woman had taken one look at August and murmured the phrase to her friend with a nod. Then they had both given her mother a scathing look. Lady Cecilia andher unknown companion were exactly like the old New Yorkers who thought that because their money had been earned a century or two earlier than the Crenshaw fortune, it somehow made them better. Impotent anger burned through her veins. Confronting them would not change their minds; she had learned that lesson the hard way.
The rustle of skirts told her that another woman had entered the dressing room. As if someone had closed the lid on a music box, the giggling stopped. She peeked around the screen to see the yellow-gold of her sister’s skirts and breathed a sigh of relief.
Violet caught sight of her and hurried over. “I am so sorry it took me so long to come find you. I was on my way, but Lord Leigh detained me.” She whispered so that no one would overhear.
“Lord Leigh?” August had seen him talking to Rothschild earlier and knew they were friends. Rumors claimed that he was a part owner of Montague Club, but that wasn’t what disturbed her. He was a known cad, and all self-respecting unmarried women knew to stay away from him. “What did he want? You haven’t been properly introduced.”
Violet gave a mirthless laugh. “You know he cares nothing for propriety. He merely said hello, and then Lady Helena offered the introductions. It was a bit odd, because we had only begun to exchange pleasantries before he remembered an engagement and hurried off.”
“Well, I suppose that’s fine.” Though August preferred that he stay away from Violet altogether. “Don’t worry, I only just arrived myself.”
“Did you talk to Rothschild, then?”
August bit back a smile. Of course Violet would assume she had talked to him. “I did. He needs an heiress, and it appears he has chosen me.” She made certain to gauge Violet’s expression for any hint of regret, but there was none.
“Oh dear.” Violet’s dark eyes widened. “Tell me what happened.”
August gave her an abbreviated account of the conversation minus the kissing. At the end her sister merely noddedand asked, “And you are certain that you do not wish to marry him?”
Of all the questions Violet might have asked, that was not one August had considered. “Of course!”
