Page 31 of A Chance to Dance with the Duke
She held his gaze, but her earlier laughter curdled inside her at the stilted apology. Her dratted pride felt like it was being trampled under the horses’ hooves. “No, I see. That is, I understand.”
“Do you?”
“Of course!” Her smile felt absurdly bright. “I am well aware of my reputation. Everyone knows that I sit out dancing and it makes sense that you assumed that I would say no.”
His throat worked as he swallowed. “It was cowardly of me. I only wanted to save face. My aunt and some others were commenting about how rude it was of me to avoid dancing. How I seemed too standoffish and arrogant.”
He hesitated, but even though he said nothing more, she had a feeling there was a weight behind those words. A meaning. The way his eyes flickered with emotion at being seen as standoffish and arrogant…
Her brows knitted in confusion as she tried to figure it out. “I never heard that of you. If anything, everyone always goes on about how charming you are.”
He let out a long exhale. “I was hardly charming that night. My actions were thoughtless. I truly am sorry, Meg. For that night, and…” He waved a hand with a grimace. “Everything after.”
She pressed her lips together and then asked, “You mean for chasing me into a fountain?”
“I didn’t mean to—” He stopped short when he met her gaze. And then he answered her smile with one of her own. “I didn’t intend for that to happen.”
“No,” she agreed. “I didn’t think you did.”
He turned until he was facing her fully again. “I know I have no right to ask this of you, but considering all you and I have been through together in such a short amount of time, and knowing that we’ll be spending more time together in the future…”
Her heart picked up its pace, and she wasn’t sure if this new surge of excitement was because of the way he was leaning in closer, or in answer to his own nervous chatter.
“Yes?”
He cleared his throat and gave a short bow that nearly ended in them knocking heads. “Good afternoon,” he said stiffly, his voice low and serious. “I am The Duke of Carver and I am very pleased to make your acquaintance.”
Her smile came first, and a laugh bubbled up quickly after. She pretended to curtsy though they both remained seated. “Miss Margaret Taylor,” she said. “Pleased to meet you.”
Later that day,His Grace—no,Ian—was watching her so closely, Meg once again had to resist the urge to ensure she didn’t have jam smeared on her cheek like a child.
He moved in closer, and despite the fact that the air was cool and there were many strangers walking past them, her skin grew flushed at his proximity. “Are you certain you’re up for it?”
She nodded, a smile blooming at the utter sincerity in his gaze. “Walking helps, actually.” She gestured to her left leg. “If I don’t stretch often and get a moderate amount of exercise, it tends to ache.”
She pressed her lips together. Had she said too much?
She’d wondered that often this afternoon. She wasn’t entirely certain at what point she’d stopped treating him like a Duke and started looking at him as…
Well, not afriend, necessarily. But a peer, at the very least.
Which he wasn’t. Obviously. He was a Duke. But…
But the more time they spent together, the more she felt the floodgates lifting and her thoughts kept spilling right out of her mouth.
“Interesting,” he said as he held an arm out to escort her along the path that lined the river. “How old were you when you fell ill?”
“Eight.” She could stop there. Perhaps sheshouldstop there. But she didn’t. “I don’t recall much of it. I had a terrible fever, and most of my actual memories are lost in the nightmares that seemed just as real to me as the waking moments.”
“It must have been terrifying.” He kept pace beside her without making her feel like she was a burden holding him back.
“For my parents, yes. I’m sure it was. I barely knew what was happening until it was over. I was much worse then. It was years before I could stand on my own, and nearly a decade before I said yes to a dance.”
She meant it as a joke, and though he looked to her quickly, he caught her smile and returned it with a low chuckle. “I shall never forgive myself for my stupidity.”
“Oh, but you must. I insist.”
His smile was so warm it made her belly tighten.
