Page 30 of Falling Into Bed with a Duke
But then his eyes came back to hers and he seemed none the wiser although she could have sworn he wore the same expression of desire as the lion. What fanciful thoughts.
The music drifted into silence. They stopped moving, but he didn’t release his hold on her.
“I can hardly countenance that I’ve never really spoken with you before today,” he said.
“You’ve never lacked for fawning women.”
“You don’t fawn, do you, Miss Dodger?”
“I’ve never known a man worth fawning over.” She released a light laugh. “Perhaps that’s the reason I’m a spinster.”
“Or perhaps it is simply that men are idiots.”
“That goes without saying, doesn’t it?”
He chuckled low. “I should be insulted.”
“But you’re not.”
“No.” He skimmed his gloved finger along her jaw, and she wished like the very devil that no cloth separated his skin from hers.
Oh, what a fool she was to be drawn to him as easily as every other lady in London. She cleared her throat. “Thank you for the dance, but I must take my leave. It’s been a rather long evening.”
“Will you be here tomorrow?”
Her heart fluttered at the question, at the possibility of his interest. “No, I have somewhere else to be.”
“Perhaps you won’t avoid all the balls this Season, and we’ll have another dance sometime.”
“Perhaps. Good night, Your Grace.”
Bringing her hand to his lips, he held her gaze. “Good night, Miss Dodger.”
Then, while her knees still had the strength to support her, she strolled away as calmly as possible, but all the while she seemed only capable of seeing herself spread out on a bed being photographed by him.
AFTER Miss Dodger left, the allure of the Dragons faded. Ashe meandered aimlessly around the gaming floor for the better part of a half hour before finally making his way to the gentlemen’s private salon and settling in a chair near the fire. He’d been there for less than a minute before Thomas brought him two fingers of scotch. Ashe didn’t recognize the footman, but in this room, they all went by Thomas—saved the members having to bother with learning names. And each member’s drinking preference was known, no doubt noted by the head footman. Taking a leisurely swallow of extremely fine spirit, Ashe gave his thoughts leave to drift back to Miss Dodger.
Her verbena scent still wafted around him. If she wasn’t Lady V, he’d eat his hat in Trafalgar Square. He knew her lines, had wrapped his fingers about her delicate ankle, could still feel the impression of her small foot on his thigh. But it was more than what he knew of her from last night that held him enthralled at that moment. It was what he’d learned of her this evening.
Dancing with her had its charms. Talking with her had even more. He found himself drawn to her in ways he’d never been drawn to another.
“Miss Minerva Dodger has the most unattractive mouth in London.” The somewhat slurred announcement was met with murmurs of agreement. Ashe slowly turned his head to a grouping of chairs occupied by several gents who, based on the flush on the faces of the ones he could see, were well into their cups. Unattractive mouth? He didn’t know if he’d seen one more attractive. Her perfect, bow-shaped lips were plump, full. He envisioned them as they’d been last night, outlined by the blasted mask, the way they had greeted his when he’d settled his mouth over them, the manner in which they’d parted on a sigh—
“I told you that she wouldn’t accept your suit, Sheridan,” Lord Tottenham said. “Now pay up our wager.”
“Bugger off, Tottenham. I’m good for it. But blast the woman for the impudent views that spew off her tongue.”
So it wasn’t the shape of those luscious lips that Sheridan found unattractive but the words she spoke. Ashe couldn’t agree with him there either, couldn’t think of another woman who carried on a more interesting conversation. He recalled her steadfast resolve that the chimpanzees were in love. For all her straightforwardness, she also possessed softness, small flights of fancy.
“Did you know the girl had the audacity to tell me we weren’t suited?” Sheridan asked.
Ashe almost shouted, “Bravo for her!” He couldn’t envision her with the arrogant toad. They’d have both been miserable. Then he thought of Sheridan crawling into bed with her, and he had to set his tumbler aside before he cracked the glass as a result of the distasteful image that caused everything within him to tighten.
The footman was suddenly at his side, refilling the tumbler. When the young man stepped back, Ashe called quietly to him. “Thomas?”
When he looked back, Ashe tapped the glass. Thomas poured more. Ashe tapped it again. “All the way to the top, lad.”
“She would have been a countess, much better than she deserves with her father being who he is.”
