Page 9 of Denying a Rakish Duke
“Perhaps it is my hospitality? My home that you find objectionable?” He seemed content to press her without end. She had never been so embarrassed before. “Please, I must know what the reason for wounding me so could be!”
He seemed pleased with the attention that they were getting. It did not seem to matter to the Duke that gossip could be spread negatively about them. Vanessa, however, cared very much.
Vanessa spun to face him, ready to snap. Her voice was low and lethal. “It is your gall, Your Grace. It is your nerve that offends. I should not like to dance with you if you were the only gentleman left in the entire room.” Her words were pressed out through her bared teeth as she spoke, her chin lifted defiantly as she tried in vain to settle the issue subtly.
“I am afraid that I cannot take no for an answer, My Lady. I simply must dance with you.”
“Do not think that I do not know what you do with a woman once you have set your hooks into her. I have heard the rumors as well as every other woman in this room, but, unlike them, I am not impressed. I can see you for the disloyal lout that you are, and I will not subject neither myself nor my sister to yourtemporarycompany.”
Joseph did not react to being insulted the way that she felt that he should. Her words were intended to repel him, to force him away from her, but they did not seem to do anything but encourage his attention.
“Please!” he said loudly, and Vanessa could feel the interested faces looking at them as the crowd all started to slowly turn toward them. Already she could see a couple whispering behind the backs of their hands. “I shall beg if I must!”
The warmth of her face got hotter. She could tell already that he was determined to see this through until such a point as he got his way. “Fine! Only if you swear that you will stop!”
Joseph bowed forward victoriously and extended his hand toward her.
She noted that he did not, in fact, swear to stop anything at all. She had managed to go this entire Season without having to dance with anyone. There was no Seraphina here being leveraged by their mother to dance. In truth, she enjoyed dancing, but she simply would have preferred to be allowed to dance on her own. Against her better judgment, Vanessa placed her satin gloved hand into his and allowed herself to be led out onto the dance floor. The music around them pulsated and seemed to almost be as loud as the sound of her own heart hammering in her ears. His touch was soft while he led them to the center of the floor. Those around them craned their necks to see what was happening.
Vanessa gathered the bulk of her skirts into one hand as she moved further with Joseph’s guidance. A quiet sort of hum seemed to replace the conversational sounds of others as couples fell into their spaces on either side of them, all bowing to one another as the formation for the moderately paced dance began.
She could not refrain from glancing around to see just who was watching. Petunia’s eyes seemed to be locked in on them. She walked across the floor with a pace so quick that she might as well have been jogging to fall into a spectator’s vantage point beside Amanda.
“Do you really find me so repugnant, Lady Vanessa?” the Duke asked as the music started. Vanessa did not answer him; she concentrated instead on her steps and keeping as much space between them as her arms would allow.
“A lesser man might be wounded, you know,” he tried again, but she was determined to ignore him as much as possible.
“I agreed to a dance, Your Grace. I did not agree to conversation.” She would look anywhere in the room that was not him. She could not, however, stop herself from feeling the feather-light touch of his hand hovering over the back of her dress. She had watched him dancing with her sister, and his hand had been placed just below her shoulders, but he had held her as close as was respectable. The fabric of Amanda’s dress had indented in the back, the twirl of her skirts was close enough that it brushed over his shoes and distorted the view of his legs throughout their waltz.
This was nothing like how he had danced with Amanda.
“But I am such a stunning conversationalist.” Joseph tilted his head into the line of her sight as if he could force her attention to his. Vanessa pressed her lips together defiantly and looked just over his shoulder to the distance. It was making her quite dizzy, but she refused to show it. “You know, it is only polite to at least discuss how lovely the room is decorated … comment on the fine traveling weather this evening or any manner of small talk could be used here to make the time pass more smoothly.”
Only then did she turn his glare up to him— and her barbed retort almost died on her lips. He had such an intense gaze. His eyes were the green of fresh leaves but dotted with small flecks of umber and gold throughout. Joseph had thick, dark lashes that suited his well-kempt brown hair. His jawline was strong, curving handsomely to his cleft chin … and she would be remiss to not notice his full lower lip. She cleared her throat and adjusted her hand on the outside of his shoulder. For a moment, she was captured, wholly, by his sarcastic smirk. She was consumed so thoroughly that she stumbled an entire step and had to quickly correct herself. “Small talk bores me.”
Joseph would likely take that as a second victory for himself. “I am desperate to know if anything in this expansive world doesnotbore you.”
“What are you implying, Your Grace?”
“I am implying that you have convinced most of the people in this ballroom that counting grains of salt would be simpler than holding a conversation with you.”
“Perhaps that is merely what I wish for them to think,” Vanessa deflected.
“Is it? It is a rare thing indeed to see a young Lady of such impeccable breeding resign herself to spinsterhood without even fighting it.”
“What would you know of spinsterhood? You can do as you please, whenever you please,” Vanessa deflected, and her lips pulled into a tight line. Joseph could tell that he had touched upon a sensitive subject.
“If only that were true then I suppose I would not be here this evening.”
Vanessa rolled her eyes. “Oh yes, poor young Duke must pull himself from asinglenight of debauchery to make an appearance at a ball held in his own home. Forgive me if I cannot muster any sympathy for you.”
“I suppose that you believe that you are owed sympathy?”
“I am owed the option to stay home if I wish. I am owed the choice to dance or abstain from dancing should I wish it. Yet, here we are.”
“I am not forcing your feet to move.”
“I could not very well refuse you, and you know it.” She made the mistake of looking up. A moment of contact and she felt herself being pulled forward— literally this time. The Duke pressed against her back only enough to make her skip forward and close some of the distance between them. She could lie and pretend that it was only because he wished to make their dance look less strained and awkward, but there was something else there. Something she could not place.
