Page 13 of A Lady's Beastly Duke
“Yes. Yes, exactly.” He nodded, a tear running down his cheek. “This is the first time I have cried for him.”
Anastasia swallowed hard. “I am sorry,” she murmured again.
He smiled gently. “Do not be. I am glad. I am relieved that now, I can cry.”
His green eyes held hers. Anastasia gazed up at him and he held her gaze. It felt as though she was drowning, floating in the depths of those eyes. She stared up and he leaned just a little forward and her heart thudded with a sudden longing she had never felt before—a longing to feel those thin lips pressed to her own.
“I say!” a voice interrupted them. Anastasia’s gaze shot up to see a man with rust-colored hair and wide brown eyes approaching them. He had a softer face than the green-eyed duke, who was gaunt and angular. The brown-eyed man grinnedat her.
“Good evening, my lady!” He bowed low. “Who do I have the pleasure of addressing?”
“I am Lady Anastasia,” Anastasia managed to say. “Daughter of the Earl of Graystone.”
“Oh!” The brown-eyed man smiled. “I am Lord Barrydale. And if I know anything, this fellow here has not introduced himself?” He gestured with a fond expression to the tall man who stood beside him.
He must be a friend of his, Anastasia thought. The Duke of Willowick shot him an angry glance, but the brown-eyed man smiled.
“Lady Anastasia, may I have the pleasure of introducing His Grace, the Duke of Willowick?”
“Your Grace,” Anastasia murmured, dropping a low curtsey. She was pleased to have a formal introduction to him—the first one she had received.
“Lady Anastasia,” he said softly.
Heat flooded through her at the sound of his saying her name. He made it sound beautiful, a treasure on his tongue. Her heart thudded in her chest. She gazed up at him and he gazed at her, his green eyes holding her own.
“I’m going back indoors, old chap,” Lord Barrydale murmured to the Duke of Willowick. If you will pardon me, Iwish to claim the next dance with my beloved wife.”
“Of course,” the duke said with the faintest trace of a grin. “I will join you shortly.”
Anastasia stared up at him, her heart thumping at the fact that he had not gone back inside with his friend. He had chosen to remain outdoors, and she suspected it was so that he could talk to her. She looked around swiftly. Camilla had come outdoors with her—the only reason it was proper for her to be out here. She checked that she could spot her friend, and her eye rested on some striking reddish hair where Camilla leaned on the railing. She was talking to a mutual friend of theirs, Lady Emily, and with them were two tall men, one of whom appeared to be wearing a dress uniform. She grinned. Camilla had always fancied men in uniform.
“It’s cold,” she murmured, trying to think of something to say.
He smiled. “It is quite cold, indeed. However, I find the atmosphere in the ballroom to be oppressively warm. I would gladly endure the chill than succumb to the heat.”
“What say you?”
She tilted her head, considering the question. “While it may be more prudent to avoid the heat, I must confess my inclination leans towards warmer climes. I have a great fondness for the delights of hot weather.” She looked around the terrace. While there was a cool breeze, it was still perfectly possible to be outside in her thin dress and shawl. Summer and spring were cheerful, happy seasons where it was possible to linger the entireday outdoors and the sun set later and later. It always made her happier when the weather was warmer—it felt freeing.
He laughed. “I regret having to maintain the opposing view. While one can wear a greatcoat and avoid the worst of the winter’s chill, one cannot do much to avoid the heat.”
“Perhaps,” Anastasia replied. She smiled at him. He was an amusing person to talk to. He was ready to speak about anything, and he was knowledgeable on most things—or at least, having discussed art even briefly with him, it certainly seemed that he was very knowledgeable about art.
He gazed at her and her heart thumped. His stare was so arresting, and she had to admit, as she looked up at him, that, though the scar was the first thing one noticed, the features beyond the scar were not repellent. He had a slim, almost gaunt face and thin lips and his neck and posture were upright and proud. With that thick brown hair and striking green eyes, one could have said he was quite good-looking, or at least unusual.
““Do you find pleasure in balls and soirees?” he inquired, causing her to raise an eyebrow in surprise.
“I’ve never given it much thought,” she murmured. “I do attend such events, but...” She tilted her head, contemplating. “I adore dancing,” she declared suddenly. “And music, in general.”
“Indeed?” He seemed genuinely intrigued. “Do you play any instruments?”
“The pianoforte,” she replied promptly. “I take great delightin it. My friend Camilla sings, so we often perform together.” She glanced over at Camilla, who was standing with Emily and laughing and talking with the officers.
“My sister plays the pianoforte,” the duke replied.
“You have a sister?” Anastasia asked with a note of excitement in her voice. “So do I.”
“A younger sister?” he guessed. She nodded.
