Page 7 of The Danger of Desire
“Why wouldn’t I admit it? It’s the truth.” He swung her about in a turn, making her feel light-headed. “I take it that you disapprove.”
“I have no feelings about it either way.” She actually preferred honest rogues to lying gentlemen. Not that this rogue was interested in her. He was decidedly not. “Why should I care if you visit brothels?”
Judging from his searching glance, her remark surprised him. “Because you’re a woman in search of a husband and I’m an eligible man?”
She lobbed that nonsense right back at him. “Are you, really? I was under the impression that you weren’t remotely eligible, being in no haste to marry. And in truth, sir, neither am I.”
“I can see why,” he drawled, “if you’re hoping for a tattooed gentleman.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I want to look at one, not marry one.”
“Well, if I ever hear of one, I’ll be sure to tell you.” The dance ended and he led her rather slowly to the edge of the lawn. “So who is standing up with you for the next dance?”
“You ran him off, too,” she said, “so I suppose I’m sitting this one out.”
“No need for that. Since it’s my fault you’re without a partner, I would be happy to dance with you again.”
She eyed him suspiciously. “The waltz? You do know that if you dance a waltz with me after just dancing a set with me, people will talk.”
“If you don’t care, I don’t.”
“Why not?”
“The truth?”
“Certainly, since we’re being so confessional.”
He chuckled. “If Clarissa thinks I’m showing you interest, she’ll stop matchmaking for a while and I can get some peace. I’m sure she hopes that you and I will become besotted with each other and end up married. That’s why she was so eager to have me stand up with you.”
“Ah. And you figure since I’m not interested in marriage, then it would be safe to be seen regularly with me.”
“Something like that.”
She considered his idea. It had certain advantages. She could move about society more easily.
But she would have a lord dogging her steps. “I like your plan, but I doubt it would work. Clarissa knows you’re not the sort to become besotted. Or, for that matter, to easily end up married. And I’m definitely not the sort to inspire besottedness.”
“Besottednessisn’t a word.”
“Besottedment? The point is, you’re notorious fornothaving any interest in marriage, and she couldn’t possibly believe you would change your ways simply because you laid eyes onme.”
“Why not?” His gaze flicked down her. “You’re a very pretty girl.”
Skeptical of the easily given compliment, she lifted her eyebrow. “My figure isn’t exactly stellar: My curves are in all the wrong places and I have none where I need them. I have too large a mouth and no sense of fashion, not to mention a deplorable tendency to say precisely what I mean. I’m sure I’m not remotely your preference.”
Even if shewasdressing badly on purpose to protect herself from inspiring too much enthusiasm in a suitor.
Other couples moved onto the lawn. He held out his hand. “I tell you what—why don’t we discuss that fascinating assumption of yours while we waltz?”
She hesitated. But honestly, a waltz with him sounded enormously tempting. Not because he was handsome and eligible and possessed of the most stalwart pair of shoulders she’d ever seen on a lord. No. It was simply because he might give her information she could use.
“Very well,” she said, and took his hand.
This time their dance was more intimate. The two of them swirled across the lawn as a couple, his hand resting familiarly on her waist and hers resting familiarly on his hip. Their other two hands were clasped—sealed together, really—and for some reason it made her positively breathless.
A pang of guilt gripped her. The only reason she’d agreed to a debut was so she could find who’d cheated her brother. She wasn’t supposed to be enjoying it. Enjoying dancing withhim.
What was wrong with her? She’d never been the sort to be made breathless by a man, and certainly not by a marquess with a penchant for bad behavior. Why was he having this effect on her, drat it? Her knees were wobbly, for pity’s sake! She would give them a stern talking-to later.
