Page 20 of How to Seduce a Duke this Autumn
Charlene adjusted the edge of her mask, suddenly conscious of the press of people around her. The masquerade had drawn half of London, it seemed, and yet the sea of silk and champagne barely touched her mind as her attention snagged on the figure at the far end of the room.
A fan snapped somewhere nearby, startling Charlene enough that she realized her lips had parted slightly. She dragged hergaze down, heat developing low in her chest, and smoothed her skirts, though nothing about her gown required adjusting.
She inwardly cursed.
Don’t forget who that man’s brother is, Charlene!
“Well,” Ashley said. “I must admit, the duke dances quite splendidly.”
“Forgive me for agreeing,” Maddie murmured.
Indeed, he danced as if he had been perfecting the art for a thousand years.
I can’t dance that well.
Charlene felt her heartbeat quicken, her cheeks flushing. There was surely something unrefined, almost untamed about his dancing—a shift from mechanical precision to something instinctive. It left her throat dry, a strange sensation that she had stumbled upon something she wasn’t meant to witness.
I want this.
Adventure. Passion. Grace.
Dangerous love.
Charlene shifted, her feet half-turning as if some deeper instinct urged her to either draw nearer or flee completely. She remained rooted in place. And then, mid-turn, he stopped. He didn’t hesitate; the pause was intentional. His gaze swept across the ballroom—dark, searching—and fixed directly on her.
Her breath hitched.
Caught. But Charlene didn’t look away. Couldn’t. She swallowed hard, her fingers pressing into the smooth silk at her sides. He inclined his chin ever so slightly, the barest acknowledgment, before turning his attention back to his partner and guiding her through a final flourish of steps.
It wasn’t merely a greeting, nor a fleeting glance. Charlene felt it—just as surely as she felt the thrum of violins vibrating through the ballroom. The tilt of his head, the weight of his gaze, promised there would be more to come.
*
Her mask, edgedwith silver, lent her an air of daring that she likely required to extend her hand and propose a dance. He hadn’t demurred. His hesitation would only have invited attention, and tonight he wanted none of it. Besides, at that moment, he’d welcomed the interruption more than he cared to admit.
The whole room hummed with the notes of a lively quadrille; the violins pulling the couples on the floor into sweeping arcs. The chandeliers overhead flickered with too much light, glinting off the endless sea of silk and satin. Yet Adam’s focus wasn’t on the spectacle swirling around him or even the woman he was dancing with. All his attention was entirely on her.
She’d lingered earlier at the periphery of the ballroom, half-obscured by the towering potted palms. From afar, she’d seemed almost ethereal—slender but striking, inconspicuous yet somehow unmissable. The curves suggested by the gown only stirred the corners of his imagination. But it was her eyes that undid him. They had locked earlier. Briefly. Bright, perceptive, and utterly arresting beneath the delicate lines of her green mask. He could feel their pull even now, following him like a challenge he couldn’t resist.
Had she recognized him?
Would she even be looking his way if she had?
The dance finally came to an end. Unhooking himself smoothly from his current partner’s hand, Adam offered the woman a brief smile and murmured his goodbye. He couldn’t hold back anymore, his course unwavering as he strode across the marble floor toward the girl who had refused to relinquish her hold on his attention.
Their eyes locked again, and his stomach lurched.
He could instantly tell she was caught somewhere between retreat and uncertainty, her eyes darting to her left shoulder, then her right, as if seeking someone to carry her away from this moment. So, she had recognized him. And yet, she didn’t run. He felt it then—that connection that thrummed through his blood and never seemed to leave him.
He wouldn’t hesitate or be side-tracked this time. He wanted her back in his life. It didn’t matter which way or how; he’d do anything to reclaim a spot at her side. Even if just as a friend.
His mother had been right.
The dance goes on.
But he didn’t want it to go on without her.
Stopping just two feet short of her, he cast a brief glance at her friends before meeting her gaze again. “My lady. Would you do me the honor of the next dance?” Adam extended his hand, palm up, his smirk laced with both confidence and promise. “Yes,” his voice dropped low, intimate, meant only for her. “I’ve come for you.”
