Page 59 of A Game with the Rakish Duke
“Something like that,” Kenneth replied, grinning. “But they were both very proper young ladies. Neither of them was willing totake things any further.” He shrugged. “You win some, you lose some.”
“What have you lost?”
Both gentlemen spun around. Catherine was standing there, smiling at them, her green eyes sparkling like cut emeralds. Thomas felt the instinctive pull towards her as always. It was stronger tonight than ever before. She reallydidlook utterly divine in that gown. It was as if she were glowing, filled with a sensual light that was simply irresistible.
“Oh, just a card game,” Kenneth said quickly, his cheeks reddening. “Nothing of importance.” He cleared his throat. “You are looking lovely this evening, Duchess.”
“Thank you, Duke.” She laughed, bobbing a mock curtsey. “I am afraid that most people think me a wanton hussy.” Her eyes sparkled. “But alas, as much as I try, I cannot care about it.”
Thomas and Kenneth both laughed.
Thomas felt another stirring in his loins. Embarrassed, he coughed into his hand.
“Good for you.” Kenneth grinned at her. “Do not ever let them put you down, I say. You have spirit, Duchess.” His grin widened. “Although it is sure to become dull the longer you stay with my friend here. He issucha stick in the mud.”
“Oh, I agree,” she said in a mock grave voice, turning around to look at Thomas. “I swear my husband is turning into an old, crotchety man before my very eyes.”
“Steady on,” Thomas interjected with a half-smile. “I have only just turned thirty. I do not have one foot in the gravequiteyet.”
“Ah, but some people start aging before their time,” Kenneth pointed out, nodding his head sagely. “I believe that you may be one of those folk, Newden. I can already see a small bald patch on that head of yours when you duck.”
Catherine burst out laughing. “Oh, I have seen that patch, too! But you really should not have told him. It is like ripping the veil of illusion away from the eyes of a child.”
“I have no bald patch,” Thomas huffed, shaking his head, pretending to be outraged. “You are both blatant liars! My hair is as full as it has ever been.”
“You keep telling yourself that,” Kenneth drawled before letting out a dramatic sigh. “The truth is always hard to swallow.” He turned to Catherine. “Would you do me the honor of dancing with me, Madam?”
“I would be delighted, Sir,” Catherine replied, holding out her hand to him. He took it.
“Please, call me by my Christian name,” he offered, smiling brightly at her. He turned to Thomas, grinning. “Let us leave theold man to his musings. I am certain he will be falling asleep where he stands within minutes.”
Catherine laughed. “And please, call me by my Christian name, too. We should not be so formal since you are my husband’s close friend.”
Thomas lightly punched his friend’s arm as they sailed away to the dance floor. He couldn’t keep his eyes off Catherine as she walked, almost shimmying, like a prism of light amid the darkness.
He kept watching his friend and his wife as they bowed and curtseyed to each other, taking the first steps of the dance. That strange feeling was overtaking him again—the feeling that had gripped him when he had seen Lord Afferton holding his wife’s elbow.
Oh, dear Lord. I am beset by jealousy again. What on earth is the matter with me?
He tried to suppress the feeling, but it refused to budge, sitting in the middle of his chest like a rock. And it was all the more ridiculous because he knew that Kenneth would never make a play for Catherine, even though he clearly found her beautiful. His old friend was loyal like that.
Thomas kept watching them. But what about Catherine? Did she find his friend attractive? And if she were serious about never letting him touch her, could she live without a man’s touch forthe rest of her life? Or would she succumb and take a lover one day?
Thomas cursed under his breath. The thought was unbearable. It filled him with utter rage. He knew that was ridiculous, too. But he kept suffering under the worthless emotion, struggling to contain it, watching them dance, wondering if this agony would ever end.
Catherine passed Kenneth in the dance, smiling at him. He was a nice man and a handsome one. But she didn’t feel any of that yearning angst she had felt when she had danced with her husband. It was pleasant, but that was the extent of it.
“You know, you will end up breaking my friend’s heart if you are not careful,” Kenneth cautioned, lowering his voice. “I mean it.”
Catherine gaped at him. “That is not possible.”
“Is it not?” He gazed at her steadily. “I know that my old friend acts as if he does not have a care in the world and disdains love, but still waters run deep, you know.”
Catherine scoffed, but her heart was thumping uncomfortably now.
“He wants a marriage of convenience,” she stated, staring at him. “He is not interested in a love marriage any more than I am, Kenneth. We agreed to the terms of our marriage.”
“Yes, so I have heard,” Kenneth remarked, smiling slightly as he passed her in the dance. “My friend has told me. Quite a few times in fact.” He paused, gazing at her intently. “I believe that he protests a shade too much. I see the way he looks at you. And I hear the way he talks about you.”
