Page 67 of From Duke Till Dawn
And he listened to her. He cared what she thought, what she felt.
My heart is his.
“But a perceptive man,” she added.
“Who doesn’t respond to flattery.” Still, he smiled a little at her compliment. He sat up straighter and studied the man. “Dresses like a banker or a brewer. He’s made his money in trade. Not a gentleman, but financially comfortable. The cut of his clothes shows that he pays considerable attention to appearances. He’s unmarried but hopes to wed a daughter of the aristocracy to gain the prestige of the connection.”
All of Alex’s observations were similar to those that Cassandra had made when first sizing up the bloke. “What else?”
Alex considered the man. “He likes to be spanked.”
She lifted a brow. “Oh?”
“He stares at women’s hands. And if he has power but not influence, he’d enjoy having a woman govern his passions. He’d like submitting himself to her will, especially if there’s some pain involved.”
Cassandra nodded. “You’d make an excellent sharper. Reading people like a fisherman can read the ocean.”
He smirked, but it was an endearing expression on his usually sober face. “Now you. What about that woman coming into the room? The one in yellow.”
Cassandra studied her target. The woman retrieved a glass of wine and watched the dancing—and fornicating. “Married.”
He looked dubious. “I see no betrothal ring.”
“She removed it, but she keeps stroking that finger with her thumb. Feeling its absence.” Cassandra continued to watch the woman in yellow. “Her husband is frequently unfaithful, but she’s only now deciding to get her revenge by coming here. See how she keeps glancing toward the front door? She’s not certain she can do this, but she feels like she’s got no choice. He’s forced her hand.”
The woman looked both intrigued by the proceedings as well as frightened.
“But no,” Cassandra continued, “she can’t do this. She’s going to leave.”
The woman in yellow put her wine down on a table and hurried away, her head down.
“Excellent prognostication,” Alex said.
“It’s not prophecy,” Cassandra corrected. “Fortune tellers at fairs can’t look at a palm and know a person’s past and future.”
“Perhaps you should turn your attention to becoming a Bow Street Runner.”
“If they allowed women,” she returned, “maybe I would.” Then she shook her head. “I couldn’t go after the people I once considered my friends. That’d make me the worst kind of traitor.”
He tilted his head in consideration. “Even after the way they treated you at Mrs. Donovan’s, you wouldn’t turn against them.”
“No,” she answered simply. “I couldn’t hurt them.”
He exhaled. “There’s integrity in you. You keep denying it, but I see it.”
Vehemently, she shook her head. “Don’t mistake stupidity for honor.”
“Most people do,” he noted.
“But we’re not discussing me,” she said, turning the conversation to safer topics. “We’re reading the people in the room. Tell me about the gentleman who’s currently sucking another gentleman’s...honor.”
Hours passed this way, as she and Alex watched the redheaded woman and spun stories about the other guests at the Orchid Club. His nimble mind continued to astonish her with its perceptiveness. He wasn’t a simple, spoiled nobleman. He might have been born into his role as one of England’s leaders, but he earned it through his intelligence and thoughtfulness.
This was like Cheltenham again. It was easy to talk to him, to speak of things important and inconsequential. He was an attentive listener, engrossed and focused, and when she spoke, he looked at her as though she was the only person in England. It felt almost more intimate than the pleasure he’d given her earlier. Bodies were simple. Hearts and minds were far more complex.
Several hours later, the club had grown less and less populated. People staggered off to their homes, exhausted by their excess.
Alex glanced at his pocket watch. “An hour until sunrise. I’d wager they’ll close up shop soon, so the remaining guests can get home while still in disguise.”
