Page 11 of Courting Scandal With The Duke
Nonsense.
It didn’t matter why the Duke had asked her to dance. What mattered was what she did with the opportunity.
He twirled her under his arm and brought her around to face him.
The expression on his face remained cold.
Had he wanted to dance with her? Or was something else going on behind the mask?
Other people on the floor were looking at them askance. As were those looking on from the sidelines. Was this duke about to embarrass her in some way?
Whatever it was, she had the feeling it boded her no good.
Which might well serve her purpose.
He bowed. She curtsied. They moved into each other’s arms. A sense of being enveloped within a fortress, protected from the outside world, almost shattered her composure.
She neither needed nor wanted anyone’s protection. She had learned early to look after herself. Relying on anyone else for anything only led to heartache.
She was tired of heartache.
Within the circle of his arms, she drew closer thanshe should. Glanced up and challenged him with a knowing smile. Dared him to accept.
Seeming not to notice, he somehow managed to keep her at an almost proper distance. Almost.
Not close enough to be scandalous. Not quite far enough apart to be completely proper.
Challenge accepted.
The large, gloved hand enclosing hers was satisfyingly warm. His height and breadth a definite advantage as they travelled around the floor, twirling and gliding in and around other couples as if they did not exist.
No one existed, beyond him and his powerful presence. And her.
The intensity was nigh overwhelming.
For such a big man, he moved with elegance and grace. She had noticed that before, hadn’t she? He seemed to have no difficulty matching his steps to hers and yet he made it seem perfectly natural.
‘What has brought you to London in such a chilly season?’ he asked after a few moments.
‘My father,’ she said, hoping she sounded as nonchalant as he.
‘And yet there is no sign of him in London.’
‘As yet,’ she agreed. ‘But as Aunt Lenore said, he is expected any day now.’
‘He was in Paris, I gather.’
Her heart stilled. Was? ‘So far as I know he is still there.’
‘No. He is in Lisbon.’
How would he know? And why?
‘Oh, dearest Papa,’ she said gaily, hiding the hurt that once more her papa had jaunted off without a word to her. ‘Forever dashing off to some place or another on behalf of this country of ours. No doubt I shall hear from him that he has been commanded to meet some potentate or other at a moment’s notice.’
Hearing anything from Father would be little short of a miracle. Unless there was some instruction or other he wanted to give her. His last round of instructions was clear and, as far as she knew, completely unchanged.
‘Find a husband from among the British nobility.’
