Page 33 of Her Wicked Duke
Soon, the song ended, and she almost walked away from the dancefloor before another gentleman could ask her to dance.
But then, she thought about it.
She had avoided some events because of her stalker, and now that she was attending them, she was avoiding interacting with suitors for Alexander’s benefit. He watched her like a hawk, as she had asked. But he had agreed, knowing the situation she was in—being a hopeful young lady wanting to be courted.
Alexander had not approached her to collect his rewards, so why should she hold back? Perhaps dancing with other men would finally spur him into action. She hated this strange distance he had put between them, as if he wished to keep her guessing.
Or she could do something about it herself.
However, as she marched up to Alexander to ask him to dance with her—or demand it—she was intercepted by another young gentleman. She recognized him as one of her callers following her mother’s ball. Despite the paranoia gripping her heart and despite the fact that any gentleman in the room could be her stalker, she agreed to dance with him.
She could not stop living her life. She refused to waste another Season and miss out on a good match.
Anne was spun around the dancefloor, feeling Alexander’s eyes on her, tracking her every movement, her every twirl. As they passed him, she smiled coyly at him, and he glowered at her.
Then, she was pulled back into the crowd of dancers and held gently. Anne closed her eyes as the song came to an end.
I wish things could just be simple.
“Thank you, Lady Anne,” her dance partner said. Anne bobbed a curtsy and then stepped back. But before she could get far, he asked, “May I call on you tomorrow, Lady Anne?”
Her eyes on her Alexander, she loudly said, “I would like that very much, Lord Sampson.”
Then, she turned around and walked up to Alexander.
Her frustration grew, almost bringing tears to her eyes.
“Are you going to stand there, watching me dance with men all night, or are you going to ask me yourself?” she demanded, her voice lowered to not draw attention.
“You wanted my protection, did you not?” he asked in a dispassionate voice. “I must watch you to know who else does. Who observes me and every other gentleman who interacts with you.” His smile turned smug, and she hated how it irritated her. “Are you upset that I won’t dance with you, Anne? If you wish to dance, ask me yourself.Properly.”
But her pride was far too great to do that.
She gritted her teeth and balled her hands into fists at her sides. “Ask me yourself,” she shot back.
“Who said I wish to?”
His careless way with words shall be the end of me.
“Fine,” she snapped. Perhaps her pride could be set aside. “Alexander, will you dance with me?”
He made a great show of thinking about it, and each second he kept her waiting grated on her nerves. “No, I don’t quite feel like dancing, at the moment.”
She wished to slap that smirk off his face.
Tears stung her eyes as she stepped closer. “So, you shall kiss me in private but we cannot have one dance together in public?” she challenged. “Am I not beautiful enough for the illustrious Duke of Winsor?”
Her tone was sharp, an attack of her own, because she did not know how to deal with the humiliation. She was a proud woman and refused to let Alexander triumph over her.
“I have better things to do, Anne,” he hissed, finally breaking that indifferent façade. “Likeprotectyou, as you asked me to—asyour brotherasked me to. You received another letter today, didn’t you?”
Anne started. “How do you know?”
“You have tells, little signs on your face, when you are deep in thought,” he told her. “And I notice them. I believe I have mentioned when I can see your pretty mind mulling over something.”
Pretty mind… Pretty Hatson…
The words were getting to her, and she refused to show it. She jutted out her chin.
