Page 27 of The Duke's Tempting Widow
“Very well now that I am in the company of a beautiful woman such as yourself.” The man continued. His smile was pretty, and the flattery was always kind but for tonight… it was unwelcome.
Given the dress that she wore, there could only be one reason for him speaking to her—he was after whatever wealth that he believed her to have. Or worse, he was a rake and wished to take advantage of her apparent loneliness.
Lydia hummed noncommittally and turned her focus back to Kitty and William.
“Would you like to dance?” the man asked, seemingly unaffected by the fact that she did not engage in conversation with him. “I will not take no for an answer.”
Another girl would likely be charmed by his forwardness. Perhaps he would be a wallflowers dream partner as he cupped her elbow and guided her toward the dance floor. She was not even given the proper amount of time to react.
He placed his hands in respectable places, pulling her into a familiar dance despite the fact that her feet almost felt too heavy to complete the movements. She could not cause a scene or embarrass herself by storming off the floor. She had to endure it.
Was Weston watching her?
“It is so impressive for a woman in your situation to come out so soon.” The bachelor started, though Lydia did not think that it was a very good start to a conversation. “I cannot imagine how stressed you must be trying to shoulder the burden of her late husband’s fortune and navigating such uncharted waters without his guiding hand.”
She could feel the hairs on the back of her neck starting to prickle. Did he truly think that was a polite inquiry or statement to make? It was offensive. She smiled tightly, choosing not to answer him.
“Do you have plans to remarry? There are a great many eligible men here tonight. Though, I would like to say that I was the only one yet to have the gumption to approach you.”
The man chuckled, smiling with such a winning air about him that no doubt he was the sort of man who was highly accustomed to women falling at his feet. Did it not bother him that she had not even spoken more than a few words to him, or that he was carrying the whole conversation?
Irritation started to bubble within her as he took it upon himself to pull her closer. Lydia’s hand braced against his upper arm, attempting to push him away from her but she was slipping.
Mercy found her in the form of the duke tapping the gentleman on the shoulder. “Might I cut in?”
“Actually—” the man started to protest.
“It was not actually a question.” Weston insisted, shouldering the bachelor out of the way. The man gave an indignant full and pouted right off of the floor. “I hope that you do not mind the intrusion.”
“You have rescued me again, my lord.” Lydia said with a quirked eyebrow.
“I could see the irritation radiating off of you in waves, my dear.” Weston answered as he effortlessly stepped into the rhythm of the music. Silence fell between them for a long moment. It felt too familiar to be there in his arms. The setting was of course different; the dance, and the fact that she could see his face now… but it was still too familiar. She could not help but to allow herself to drift back to the memories that were imprinted upon her very being.
“Is that what it was?” Lydia could not resist teasing him. “I would have thought that you were jealous, Your Grace.”
“Me? Jealous?” Weston said, pretending to not know what she was saying at first. “Absolutely.”
She almost did not think that she heard him correctly. He added the acknowledgement in as almost an afterthought. This possessive side of him was something new. She should not find it so alluring that he wanted to have her all for himself.
“Or, perhaps I only intervened to spare you from the odious man, I suppose you will never know the truth.” Weston added, and she could not help but smile up at him. “There was talk from some of the other ladies that that particular gentleman is something of a fortune hunter. I suppose that it would not be fair to call him a true gentleman.”
Lydia knew that Weston could say what he wished, but the grip of his hand against her waist and the fact that he seemedincapable of pulling his striking eyes from her own told her otherwise.
“If you ever choose to remarry, I hope that it is not too bold of me to offer my opinion, but it should not be to a man such as that.” Weston added, pulling her slightly close as they moved into the next section of the dance.
The air in her lungs felt as if it were growing thinner with every inch of space between them that was lost. She could not stop the question burning in her mind from tumbling out of her lips. “So, what sort of man should I marry, then?”
“Somebody who can handle you, obviously.”
He spoke as if the answer ought to have been obvious to her. The duke’s gaze upon her was fierce, steady, and she was helpless to keep her body from responding to him.
“You deserve a man who understands how intelligent you are. Somebody who can properly challenge your stubbornness and push you further.” Weston paused, the corner of his lip curling upward. “Perhaps an older man, wise… and experienced…” He leaned in closer to her, whispering in a way that let her feel his breath against her ear. “One who knows how to properly pleasure a woman.”
Lydia nearly tripped over her own feet at his forward words. Heat blossomed in her core and traveled lower. Instantly,she wished that they were not surrounded by others and that she might have the freedom to answer such words in the way that she wished. It was nearly impossible to conduct herself in the manner expected of her. Though, that was no doubt his intention. He did like getting such a rise out of her.
It only served to make her even more aware of the way that he was touching her—the hand that heated her skin through her dress, then dancing along the line of her waist as if promising that he was exactly the sort of man that she needed.
Once again, as she had so very many times before, her imagination supplied every way that she had ever fantasized about him, playing over and over in her mind. It was the least helpful thing to be thinking about when one is attempting to appear unbothered.
