Page 53 of A Gamble with the Rakish Duke
He took her hand as they walked toward the refreshments table. His fingers stroked her knuckles casually but possessively.
“Your loyalty to the mysterious composer is admirable, Duchess,” he said, raising an eyebrow at her.
“What do you think of it, then, Your Grace? Do you question my loyalty to you because of it?”
He stopped mid-stride and watched her—studyingher. It was as if he thought he could read her mind if he tried hard enough.
It was unsettling, yes, but it also made Alexandra want to fan herself. She wanted to kiss him right there in their neighbor’s home, but there were emotions on his face that were too fleeting to read.
“No,” he whispered as he leaned toward her. “I know you are mine, Alexandra. But sometimes I do wonder if there’s more to your defense of J. Lewis than mere appreciation. Perhaps you defend him because you know who he really is.”
Alexandra’s breath caught in her throat. She lifted her hand to fiddle with her amethyst pendant. Recognizing her anxiety, Oliver reached out and covered her fingers with his.
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard a couple so intent on debating the motivations of an anonymous composer,” Philip suddenly remarked a few feet from them, and they pulled away from each other.
“A spirited discussion. In fact, every conversation with him is spirited,” Alexandra replied, beaming at her husband’s friend.
“I would expect nothing less from him, and from you. If you want to discuss something else further, you can call on me.”
Alexandra chuckled, while Oliver clapped his friend on the back. “She might just hold you to that, my friend.”
The rest of the evening was spent discussing safer topics. Lady Layton spent the time introducing everyone to everyone else, even if the said members of thetonalready knew each other. Alexandra even endured more tales about her son. She was certain that the young Earl was embarrassed by his mother’s openness about his accomplishments, imagined or otherwise.
Through it all, though, Alexandra remained vigilant.
Could she bear to lose him if the truth came out?
Chapter Twenty-Two
“That bloom is leaning too close to the gravel path,” Oliver noted that morning, though he spent more time watching his wife’s face.
Oliver realized that when he was with his wife, the morning dew felt fresher, and the flowers seemed to bloom brighter.
How had he not noticed these things before?
Ah. That question was easy enough to answer. He had spent most of his life in smoky rooms, drinking and gambling away his money. Fighting with his fists was the one thing that never took away his essence.
“Perhaps it’s stretching toward the sun. Isn’t that what the botanists say, anyway?” Alexandra replied, her voice light but somehow distant.
Oliver frowned.
“That flowers grow toward the sun?” Alexandra added.
“Perhaps it doesn’t understand the danger of doing so,” Oliver said, the playfulness overshadowed by his serious undertone.
He looked at her, gauging whether she caught his meaning—that sometimes what seemed natural could be dangerous, too. That the passion she had for playing could be consuming her.
And yet, the dark circles under her eyes seemed to suggest that it was a good thing she was getting some sun in the mornings.
She avoided his gaze. That made his chest tighten and his jaw clench.
They were growing closer physically, there was no doubt about that. In the bedroom, there was no hesitation, and they were learning what the other wanted. When it came to other things, she’d pull away just when they were getting close.
“How can it be dangerous when it’s the natural state of things?” she wondered aloud, seemingly no longer speaking to him.
He now understood her fascination with the mystery of J. Lewis. After all, he was fascinated with the mystery of her. She continued to confuse him. During the nights they were not together, he would hear the faint strains coming from the music room. Sometimes, they were soft, gentle lullabies with a melancholy edge. Other times, they were fierce and angry.
Emotional.
