Page 34 of His Forbidden Duchess
He remained where he had stood when she had first entered, his eyes still on her. Their gazes met. The entire ballroom instantly melted away, and the force of their connection throbbed in Eloise’s chest.
“Mortcombe as your first dance choice?”
Eloise jumped at Hannah’s voice and turned to look up at her. “Pardon?”
Hannah huffed and threw herself onto the bench next to her friend. “You have not even greeted me this evening, yet I see you accepting a dance from Lord Mortcombe. Honestly, Eloise, I do not know what has gotten into you as of late.”
“Whatever do you mean? I did not see you; that is all.”
Eloise snuck another glance in Felix’s direction, but he had disappeared. Her heart sank, missing him already. She shook her head in an effort to derail the thought.
“I mean, Lord Mortcombe? He is such an arrogant bore. You have always detested him, Eloise. Why on earth are you now spending quite so much time with him?”
Eloise tutted and looked away, fanning herself faster. Her friend would never understand.
“I have told you before, Hannah. He is the practical choice.”
Hannah groaned. “There are a number of practical choices who are not quite so?—”
“Shh,” Eloise said quickly. “He is coming back.”
Mortcombe waddled through the crowd, cradling a glass of lemonade as though it was the most precious thing in the world.
“For you, Lady Eloise,” he said with a bow then turned to Hannah. “Good evening, Lady Hannah.”
“Lord Mortcombe,” she replied shortly, offering a weak curtsy.
“There you are, My Lord! I have been looking all over for you,” Lady Arabella said, marching over to the little group and situating herself between Eloise and Mortcombe.
“You have?” Mortcombe asked, his eyes brightening in the same way that they did for Eloise.
She scowled. The man did not have any special affection for her. He would become smitten with any pretty lady who deigned to give him a little attention.
“Lady Arabella,” Eloise said curtly.
Arabella’s fiery eyes flashed toward them, her lips in a tight line. “Lady Eloise. Lady Hannah.” She turned back to Lord Mortcombe, and her expression instantly brightened. “I was hoping we would get a chance to talk, My Lord. Would you care to escort me to the drinks table? I am positively parched.”
“Of course, My Lady. I would be delighted.”
Eloise’s eyes narrowed as the pair walked away. She would not allow Lady Arabella to charm away the man who was to become her husband.
“Good,” Hannah said. “I do not think I could stand to be in his company for another second.”
“Hannah,” Eloise reprimanded. “He is not?—”
“Is Mortcombe on your card for the second dance?”
Eloise froze at the voice that came from behind her, the voice she now knew so well. The one that she constantly dreamed about.
Felix.
She turned and smiled at him just as Hannah leaned over her shoulder and said, “I shall leave you to it, Eloise,” and disappeared into the crowd.
“It seems he is not,” she replied.
Eloise had no idea how she was able to utter the words. Having him so close to her again had set her mind whirring and her body churning. Their kiss flashed through her mind, and she did everything she could to resist reaching forward and kissing him once more.
“In that case,” Felix said, holding his hand, “perhaps this dance could be mine.”
