Page 12 of Courting Scandal With The Duke
Pah!
The composure of the woman Xavier held in his arms was surprising and pleasant.
Most of the young ladies he had danced with this evening had been nervous, which meant they’d danced stiffly and giggled at everything he said.
Except Miss Simon, of course.
She had been shy, true, and somewhat stilted in response to his conversation, but had been generally agreeable, even if her nose was too large and her chin a little receding. She was clearly not the sort of girl to be going off on mad starts. A well-brought-up English young lady from a good family.
Ideal wife material.
And as boring as a pet fish. The thought came into his mind from nowhere.
Completely irrational.
Everything would be fine once they got to know each other better. With that in mind, he had asked her to drive out with him later in the week.
She’d been charmingly grateful.
This woman, this countess, was a horse of a different colour. A bold hussy. An exotic orchid, compared to a daisy. A short-lived comet, compared to a star’s steady pinprick of light. A flash in the pan.
Possibly out to catch herself a duke.
Who would soon discover she should have stayed in Paris.
Passing beneath his arm and joining her hands with his in the promenade, she once more closed the distance between them, an inch closer than was acceptable, while catching his eye with a sly glance. Goading him?
His hip grazed hers. A sensual slide of gossamer fabric again the satin of his breeches. To say he felt her touch through his clothes would be ridiculous, but he did sense the whisper-soft brush, the slight drag of air and fabric.
As did she, from the gleam of mischief in her gaze.
Playing with fire.
Was she a tease who would recoil from the heat or was she really prepared to go up in flames?
Based on the way her gown barely clung to her full breasts, tormenting every man in the room with imminent disaster, he thought she would brave the inferno—if she thought it might get herwhat she wanted.
He had been the target of ambitious women for too many years to be taken in at this point in his life.
Rather than let her rule the roost, he made sure to maintain a proper distance, resisting any attempt she made to get closer. ‘You normally travel with your father, the Ambassador, I understand?’ he said to fill the weighty silence.
‘It is kind of Your Grace to take such an interest in my habits, but you are right. I have visited most of the capitals of Europe with my father.’
Take an interest? Was that how she interpreted a casual enquiry? Or was she being sarcastic? He decided to ignore the comment.
‘And with your late husbands, I assume?’
‘My first husband never left his estate. His health kept him at home. My second was a soldier assigned to Metternich. We travelled a little but were mostly in Vienna.’ A brilliant smile curved her lips and held him mesmerised for a second. ‘While there, I believe I was of some assistance to the cause.’
So, she would take credit for saving Europe? Incorrigible.
‘I am sorry for your untimely losses.’
‘No need for sorrow, Your Grace. My first husband was at death’s door when we wed. My second, no great loss. To me, at any rate.’
Startled by her flippancy, he gazed at her. ‘I see.’ He could not keep the stiffness from his voice or his disapproval.
She laughed. ‘You are shocked. You should not be.I believe in calling a spade a spade, don’t you? And now I seek a third. Do you know any good prospects?’
