Page 31 of Courting Scandal With The Duke
More the sort of woman a man would enjoy as a mistress. His mind went to the cottage in Chelsea he had been discussing with his secretary that morning. The previous tenant had moved on and it needed renting out. His secretary had joked thatit was so quaint, it would make a perfect love-nest. Xavier had quelled Perry’s amusement with a chilly glance.
The thought of the place and the Countess had been accompanied by a surge of heat in his blood that had shocked and appalled him.
It was as if he had learned nothing from his father’s disastrous marriage.
He had learned. He knew exactly what he needed to do to ensure the Dukedom continued in good order for another one hundred years.
He needed to wed a woman who would bring honour to his name and an heir and a spare into the world.
He strolled across the room to Miss Simon’s side, the young lady he was beginning to think might be his choice. As he approached, he realised she was gazing wide-eyed at the Countess. A little brown mouse gazing at a predator.
She was the one who needed his protection, not the exotic Countess.
‘Good evening, Miss Simon.’
‘Your Grace,’ she said with a blush and a shy little smile.
‘Will you do me the honour of this next dance?’
She glanced at her mother. The plump matronly woman nodded her approval while her expression showed her delight.
Xavier led Miss Simon to the nearest set to the opening bars of a country dance.
‘How are you enjoying your Season so far?’ he askedsmiling down at her, feeling her nervousness in the flutter of her fingers and wanting to set her at ease.
‘Very well, Your Grace. Though of course they say this ball is a bit of a squeeze.’
Parroting the words of her acquaintances.
The sort of woman who would parrot the words of her husband and who would never have an opinion of her own.
Exactly the sort of woman he needed. Wasn’t she?
Damnation. Why on earth did this sense of dread fill him every time he decided on the perfect woman? For three seasons now, he’d been dithering on the brink of making an offer.
And each time he’d hung back. It wasn’t like him. He knew what he wanted. All he had to do was take the plunge.
The orchestra struck up a tune as they took their defined places in the set. Just as he would take his defined place as a husband and a father.
The idea used to give him a feeling of contentment, but now there was a sense of loss, as if he was missing something important.
Rubbish.
Everything was exactly as it ought to be.
Aunt Lenore had stopped to greet a friend while Barbara and Charles had wandered closer to the dance floor.
Charles leaned close. ‘Are you indeed seeking a third husband, mydearest sister?’
‘Some people think so,’ Barbara said lightly.
Charles narrowed his eyes. ‘Your Papa, perhaps?’
She had bemoaned her father’s ambitions to Charles not long after she had married his brother Helmut. Charles had been sympathetic to her plight. And after his brother’s death, he had been most solicitous.
‘And what do you think?’ he asked.
‘I have not given it an iota of thought.’
