Page 16 of A Chance to Dance with the Duke
“If you’ll please just give me a moment, Miss Taylor?—”
“You’re causing a spectacle.” She grit it out through her teeth, and he fell silent. Before she could stop herself, she shot him a sidelong glare. “Again.”
He winced. “All right, yes. I understand how that must have looked, but?—”
“But nothing.” She reached the bottom of the steps, and all eyes swiveled in her direction as the Duke came to stand at her side.
“Just hear my apology, please. I’d like to make this right.”
“If you truly wish to make this right, then you will leave me alone.” She instantly regretted speaking, because her voice went up and her tone sounded so pathetic and breathy she wished she could call it back and try again.
But there were eyes everywhere and Carver’s presence at her side made her heart race and her skin heat.
He’d made a joke of her. This handsome young lord everyone believed to be so charming.
He had it all at his fingertips. The whole blasted world. And yet he was standing here, seemingly intent on destroying what little comfort she’d managed to find in anonymity.
“I am going to walk away now,” she said, taking a moment to revel in the fact that her voice hadn’t sounded as shaky as before. “And if you have half a heart in that big, broad chest of yours, you will watch me go and leave me be.”
She didn’t wait for a response as she hurried away, but she heard him. Not his voice. Oh no. She heard his footsteps, all even and perfect as he followed in her wake. Tears pricked the back of her eyes as she kept her chin up high.
What was he doing? Why wouldn’t he stop already? Her mind’s eye filled with the memory of that Ferguson boy pretending to limp around.
Was that what she looked like? Was that what everyone did when she walked away?
Pressing her lips together, she tried not to think.
I will not cry.
She wouldn’t give them that satisfaction.
She’d nearly reached the fountain when she’d composed herself well enough to whirl around and face him.
The partygoers weren’t far behind them, but far enough that she could speak without being overheard. “What do you think you’re doing?”
His expression was grim, his gaze so fierce she felt her heart trip in response.
Drat. He was too handsome for his own good. No young man should be born with wealth, status, and then have such a handsome face to boot.
It was too much.
God had spoiled him.
So perhaps it was only right then that he’d grown up to be so wicked and cruel.
“I cannot let you wander off on your own,” he started. “I know you wish me gone, but?—”
“You actually think I need you to act as some sort of escort?” A bitter laugh escaped. “Pardon me, Your Grace, but it’s gentlemen like you that I need to be saved from.”
A flicker of regret in those sparkling eyes. “I deserve that.”
“And I deserve to be left alone.”
He winced. “Yes. You’re likely right. But please…” He took a step toward her.
He was so tall. So broad. Close to him like this, she was all too aware of her own small frame. He was the very definition of hale and hearty and she was…
Frail.
