Page 101 of The Duke and the Lady in Red
“Then it’s high time you did. Come now, let’s find a drink, and then I want to introduce you around.”
Rose began to get dizzy, overwhelmed as the introductions continued: the Earl and Countess of Claybourne, the Duke and Duchess of Greystone, Sir James and Lady Emma, Jack Dodger and Olivia. Throughout the night, she met some of their children although she wasn’t altogether certain that, if she were pressed to do it, she could have sorted them all into their proper families.
She was grateful to have a quiet moment in the balcony to catch her breath, to look down on the gaming floor and see her brother tossing dice. Those surrounding him cheered, Jack Dodger slapped him on his back. Harry’s joyous laughter rang out, reached her where she stood, curled through her, warmed her.
“I’m not certain he’s ever been so accepted,” she said.
“He was always accepted by you.”
She peered up at Avendale as much as she was able with his arms circling her, her back to his chest. “That’s different. He’s my brother.”
“It would make little difference to some.”
She didn’t think she was so very special. Those who took the time to get to know Harry fell in love with him. How could they not when his was such a generous heart?
“I am torn between being at his side tonight and giving him a chance to spend the evening in the company of others.”
“Let him enjoy the others for a while. Come dance with me.”
She might have considered his request selfish if she weren’t acutely aware that for almost a fortnight he’d been settling for scraps of her attention and time. “I would like that very much, but first ...”
Turning in his arms, she rose up on her toes and kissed him, welcomed his drawing her nearer. She almost told him that she loved him, but she doubted he would welcome the sentiment. There was also the chance that he wouldn’t believe her, that he would believe she felt obligated to voice the words because of all that he’d done. In a way all that he had done was responsible for her feelings—but only because they served as evidence of his kindness and generosity. Both of which she was discovering knew no bounds.
She had sought to take advantage of him, only to find herself falling madly in love with him.
Harry was overwhelmed by the night, the people, the games of chance, the astounding luck he seemed to have with them. Everyone was so kind, but it was all too much. He had met two young ladies who looked exactly alike. He couldn’t remember their first names now, only their last: Swindler. Their father was an inspector with Scotland Yard, and for a moment he’d worried about Rose, but then he’d seen her strolling with her duke, and he’d known nothing would happen to her.
Still, he’d told the two ladies that he would like a moment with her, so they’d been kind enough to escort him to the ballroom. Only a few couples were dancing in the magnificent room with the gorgeous crystal chandeliers and the orchestra playing in the balcony.
Rose and her duke were on the dance floor waltzing. Harry knew the dance because Rose had once circled a room with him, shown him the steps when he was still able to walk without the cane, before he was so easily thrown off balance. Now he simply enjoyed watching the grace of her movements, the joy reflected on her face as the duke held her close. She was happy, and Rose deserved that so much.
And that made him happy. Happier than he’d ever been.
“Mr. Longmore.”
His name was a soft, slow purr. Turning slightly, he saw the most beautiful woman he’d ever set eyes on. Her hair was woven from moonbeams, her eyes were sparkling sapphires. She was tall, but composed of curves. He felt the heat warm his face because he noticed the dips and swells. The duke wouldn’t grow warm like this. The duke would merely look until he was content. No, his friend would take her to the shadows and hold her, kiss her. Harry wanted to do the same. He was embarrassed, ashamed that he would have such a thought. She would no doubt scream if he got too close.
She smiled, joy wreathing her face as she met and held his gaze. “I’ve been searching some time for you.”
“Have you?” he croaked, wondering what had happened to his voice to make it go so deep, so rough.
“Indeed I have. I’m Aphrodite.”
He wasn’t surprised she was named for a goddess. He envisioned her in a diaphanous gown, the wind swirling around only her as though the rest of the world didn’t require gentle breezes. She was worthy of poetry, and words began flittering through his mind.
“Will you dance with me?” she asked.
The poetic words, all thought stopped. He wanted what she asked for more than he wanted to breathe, but no choice remained except to shake his head with regret. “I’m sorry, but I can’t. I might lose my balance.” And the wonderful night would be ruined as everyone witnessed his clumsiness at its worse. He would no longer be able to pretend he wasn’t a great oaf.
“I’m extremely skilled at ensuring men don’t lose their balance.” She moved in, placed one delicate hand lightly on his shoulder, another on his arm, on his hideous arm, but she appeared not at all revolted. “We don’t have to follow the music. We can just sway if you like.”
He liked it very much, liked her nearness. She smelled of oranges.
“Are you a friend of the duke?” he asked.
“Sometimes. But tonight I’m your friend.”
Harry was relatively certain it was because the duke had asked her to be. The duke had answered a good many of Harry’s questions regarding women, but each discovery led to another question until he felt as though he were being swallowed in a vortex where a thousand queries swirled, waiting for him to pluck out the next. The duke had assured him that if he lived to be a hundred, he’d never uncover all the answers.
