Page 5 of A Spinster to Reform the Duke
“Oh! Proud man indeed,” she laughed as they switched places and walked round each other in the opposite direction. “You openly acknowledge what the scandal sheets say of you then?”
“What would be the point in denying it?” he asked with a shrug. “My name has not been dragged through the mud completely. The writer of such gossip only suspects that I am a…” He struggled for the right word.
“A rake?” Lady Rebecca offered, urging him to look at her with a wink.
“Your word, not mine, Lady Rebecca. I was going to call myself a charmer.”
“A charmer?” She laughed. “You do think highly of yourself.”
“Do you say I have no charm, Lady Rebecca?” he asked, drawing her into his arms. This time, he was careful to pull her a little closer. She clearly noticed it, for her hand gripped his shoulder tighter, as if eager to keep him at a little distance. Yet the way her cheeks blushed told him all he needed to know.She is not averse to me.
“If I was to deny your words, you would simply say I am denying it to frustrate you. If I say you are a charmer, then you win regardless. I cannot win by answering your question,” she surmised quickly, leading him to draw her toward him another time. “Your Grace, you should be releasing me in this part of the dance.”
“Should I?” he said, purporting innocence as he heard her. “I became rather distracted at having you so near.”
“That is not charm, Your Grace,” she said, though she was clearly trying to hide her smile as she spoke. “It is an attempt at charm.”
He laughed fully once more. He had never had a lady treat him this way. They quite often fell into his arms or gave him a wide berth. He rather liked the challenge Lady Rebecca offered. There was something about her that was verydifferent.
The dance was beginning to come to an end, marked by the slowing music. They released each other and walked around one another, never letting their eyes stray.
“You accused me of flirtation, my Lady, but I rather feel I am not the only one here who has flirted,” he whispered to her, before they were forced to step away, facing each other at a little distance. Her lips parted, as if shocked by his words, as he bowed to her with the closing music.
She hurried to curtsy too, until he stepped forward and took her hand, offering to escort her away from the dancefloor.
“I was not flirting,” she insisted, her tone rather sharp.
“I think you were.”
“I never flirt.”
“Is flirting really such an abominable thing? I rather like it. Especially when it brings a smile to your face.” He looked down as he led her through the crowd that had been watching the dancers, rather hoping to see another smile on Lady Rebecca’s face. He was not satisfied sadly, as she looked up to him with risen eyebrows in a challenge.
“Flirtation is all well and good for you, Your Grace. As a duke, you must have ladies lining up to flirt with you.”
“And you do not have gentlemen lining up for you?”
“No.”
“I find that rather hard to believe.”
“Ha! Do not flatter me, Your Grace,” she said as they came to a stop in the crowd. Timothy didn’t release her, finding himself reluctant to do so just yet. To his relief, she didn’t pull her hand free either. “You have seen the scandal sheets call me a spinster; what man would flirt with me?”
“As you pointed out, my Lady, I just did.” He smiled with his words, rather amused when he saw she was trying to fight her smile.
“You must be fond of momentary distraction and flirtation with strangers. I beg you would excuse me, Your Grace, and I thank you for the dance, but I must return to my parents.” She curtsied, leaving him dumbfounded and unable to issue a proper goodbye.
“Momentary distraction?” he repeated as she walked away. He followed her with his eyes, struggling for his mind to keep up.That’s not what I do. Is it?
“Timothy? Timothy!”
Timothy winced at hearing his name called so many times. He looked away from the retreating form of Lady Rebecca, turning to see his mother approaching him through the crowd. Catherine Fletcher, the Dowager Duchess of Frampington, was a regal presence in any room, with a formidable stature and such dark hair and dark features that she was striking. Yet her exuberance sometimes ran away with her, reminding Timothy of a young girl. This was one such moment.
“Mother, pray be calm,” he whispered as she reached his side, practically bouncing on her toes. “You are rather reminding me of taking a child to the confectioners.”
“Do not tease,” she said, waving away his words before pointing through the crowd at the retreating figure of Lady Rebecca. “Who was that?”
“No one,” Timothy spoke hurriedly. He felt his stomach knot, just as it always did when his mother asked him such questions.
