Page 35 of A Gamble with the Rakish Duke
Several pairs of eyes had swiveled toward them as they entered the ballroom. Some whispered to each other, unabashedly watching them, and Oliver seemed doubly eager to play the part of the besotted husband.
The young Duchess knew her manners well, though. She returned the attention with cool politeness.
“It took us long to feel ready to share our life as a married couple,” she answered smoothly.
She knew what that implied—that she and Oliver had never lost connection. They just weren’t public about their affections before.
Alexandra felt satisfaction bubbling up inside her. It was also the first time she caught gentlemen she barely knew openly admiring her. These men would not have looked her way when she was still living under the threat of her father’s debts.
But as the Duke of Westgrave’s wife? She was certain that some of them were wondering whether they could convince her to break her marriage vows. She was now a challenge, and Oliver was also aware of it. She could feel it in the way his fingers twitched her lower back.
Alexandra turned to look at him, unable to resist the urge. She was intrigued by the possessive gleam in his eyes. For some reason, it also irritated her.
Why was he pushing this pretense? She straightened her back and purposely turned her gaze away from him, looking at everything except for the man who was almost attached to her by the hip.
“I’m heading for the refreshments table,” she declared, not daring to look at his face. And then she hurried toward the table, leaving him behind.
It did not take long for her to overhear the first snippets of gossip. She had not even taken her first sip.
“His Grace… finally smitten, isn’t he?” a young woman uttered in disbelief.
“Far more captivated than I thought possible…” her friend agreed.
Their heads were close together, as if they were concocting a plan, instead of gossiping about other people at a public event.
“She has done what no other woman could do!” an older woman exclaimed in disbelief and wonder.
Alexandra felt a rush of satisfaction upon hearing those words. She schooled her features to ensure that nobody could see how pleased she was with gossip. It felt good to be the object of people’s admiration and wonder, instead of being in the midst of scandal and ruin.
Her thoughts drifted toward her father for a moment, and just as the women’s gossip made her feel invincible, she now felt like she was sinking. Fast.
Her mind quickly returned to the fact that whatever she and Oliver had was merely an act. They were becoming great at it—perhaps even becoming friends—but that was the extent of it. She had not really tamed a rake. Her father forced his hand, and thetonpressured him to maintain the farce.
Alexandra’s steps were heavy when she walked back toward Oliver. She noticed that his focus was no longer on her. His eyes scanned theton, finding other men ogling her. He glared at them with pure animosity. His jaw was clenched, and his back was rigid.
A thrill ran down Alexandra’s spine as she saw the signs of his jealousy, but she kept her expression neutral. Again, she reminded herself that what she was feeling was the giddiness of being noticed. She was not used to it.
“Would you like to dance, Duchess?” The civility in his voice startled her.
She looked up to see his eyes dancing with mischief. What was he planning to do?
Oliver did not give her time to respond. His hand was already reaching for hers. His grip was gentle but firm when he led her to the dance floor.
Alexandra had wondered what it would be like to dance with her husband. She expected the formality of the steps, and even his grace as he danced. After all, he was a pugilist in his free time, able to perform moves that could knock out more than one man at a time.
She did not expect the heat of his hand when it rested on her waist, slightly lower than was proper. His thumb drew little circles on her back, and she wanted to numb herself for a moment, pretend she was not affected by his provocative touch. However, the hand resting on his shoulder trembled slightly.
Oliver noticed. Oh yes, he did. His eyes darkened as he grinned at her seductively. But what he did next almost unraveled her.
“You seem a bit tense, Duchess,” he murmured, his breath warm against her ear.
“Do I?” she asked lightly, as if she was not almost quaking in his arms. “It must be the company. It doesn’t help me relax.”
He chuckled at that, and she wondered how he took her words. It was an honest statement, even as she continued to mask the effects he had on her body.
Their eyes met. For a moment, no words were uttered, and the ballroom seemed to vanish. Alexandra could no longer hear the whispers. She no longer felt the curious glances.
All she could see was Oliver.
