Page 15 of Enslaved to the Seduction of a Lady
“Worry not, dear sister,” Teresa said. “We shall find you a better match than that. I promise.”
“I hope so,” Alison said, but all she could think of was Luke, and how unlikely a match with him would be. She loved him so much she thought her heart would burst, but the idea of a marriage to him seemed such a fairy tale that she knew it could never happen. Her father, for all his wonderful traits, would not be able to fathom a match between a Duke’s daughter and a groom. It just wasn’t in him.
“Good evening, Ladies.”
They both turned at the voice, deep and masculine and full of a seductive power.
“My Lord,” Alison said, offering the intruder a genuine smile.
“Good evening, My Lord,” Teresa said, curtsying.
“Good evening to you both,” Thomas Denninson said. “It’s a delightful evening, isn’t it?”
“It is,” Teresa said, nodding.
“Lady Alison, your mother tells me we have you to thank for such a party. She said you made all the arrangements.”
“It’s true,” Alison said, blushing at the compliment. “But it is hardly a chore when one enjoys it so much.”
“Well you’ve done a wonderful job. Every eye in the garden is twinkling.”
“Do excuse me,” Teresa said. “I have promised a dance to my husband.”
Alison watched her go with narrowed eyes, suspecting she was doing it on purpose in the hopes that Alison would find a suitor.
She is in collusion with Mother.
But then she turned back and smiled at Thomas Denninson, the heir to the Duke of Carrington. He was a kind sort, and although Alison had no desire to be matched with him, he at least did not smell bad.
“Would you care to dance?” he asked, an awkward smile on his face. She could sense he asked her out of duty and perhaps friendship but nothing more, and that pleased her. It was this kind of dance she wanted. No other.
Unless it is with Luke.
“Yes,” she said, smiling back at him, “let’s dance.”
At thirty years old, Thomas seemed wise beyond his years and he held himself in the manner of a much older man. But despite his comportment, he looked as young as he did ten years earlier. His thick black hair shone with health and his warm brown eyes glimmered with intelligence and energy. He and Alison had been acquainted for many years, although it was not often they spent time truly in each other’s company, without the influence of others.
He took her hand and she felt the warmth of him through her gloves as he led her back to the dance floor. He smiled at her as the music changed, then he bowed and she curtsied, and they began to dance.
It was an entirely different dance to the one she had had with the Earl. Although Thomas held her as close as was proper, she felt relaxed and able to enjoy it, rather than being stiff and uncomfortable.
They hardly knew each other, and yet Alison found herself feeling as though she danced with a sibling rather than with anyone else. It was easy and relaxed, a pleasant way to pass the time.
They chatted as they danced—about inconsequential things such as the weather and the quality of the wine—but neither had any intention of anything further.
It was a pleasant dance, Alison realized. One she enjoyed. They turned the dance floor happily, and she was in no hurry to get away. But then she looked up and gasped.
It was his eyes that had shocked her so much. She had never before noticed them, but now that she had, she couldn’t believe how like Luke’s they were. She looked at him closely, scrutinizing his eyes for differences, convincing herself that she was merely so infatuated with Luke that she saw him everywhere.
But the closer she looked, the more surprised she became. If she could only see his eyes, she might even be convinced she was dancing with Luke, and that sent a thrill through her.
But he is not Luke, and nor shall he ever be.
