Page 98 of When a Duke Loves a Woman
“Mother.” She snapped her mouth closed. “I believe our ball has come to an end. Miss Trewlove, allow me to see to your hand.”
She angled her chin. “It’s quite all right, Your Grace. I’m accustomed to jabbing drunkards.”
A few gasps filled the air.
“I believe it’s time we took our leave,” Mick Trewlove said, coming to stand beside his sister.
“I’ll escort you to your carriage,” Thorne said.
“Please don’t,” she said, and his heart squeezed painfully.
“Gillie, I’m not going to have you walk out of here alone as though you’ve done something unforgiveable. I’ve known Dearwood a good many years, and I know you’d have not struck him if he didn’t deserve it. Allow me to escort you out.”
She nodded, and he offered his arm. Thankfully she placed her hand in the crook of his elbow. He waited until they were out of the ballroom, with Mick Trewlove and Lady Aslyn leading the way, before asking, “Did he really ask you to dance?”
“He did.”
“I suspect that wasn’t all.”
“Thorne.”
He pulled her to the side, near the armor that had once protected an ancestor, and he wished to God he could protect her as effectively. “In a few minutes those who are not staying the night will be walking past here to get to their carriages. What did he say?”
She licked her lips; a small pleat appeared between her eyebrows. “He told me about a contest you and he engaged in, to see who could bed the greatest variety of women. He was quite impressed you’d added a tavern owner to your list.”
He slammed his eyes closed, cursed beneath his breath. When he opened his eyes, he pressed a kiss to that delicate crease before holding her gaze. “Gillie, that was more than a dozen years ago, when I was young and ill advised. You can’t possibly believe what’s happened between us is because of a stupid game from my youth, surely.”
She shook her head. “No. But he called me out for being your mistress, informed me you would toss me over and then I would become his. People know what’s between us.”
“They’re speculating, guessing. It’s what they do, damn them all to hell. I’m so sorry, princess.”
“I’m not a princess, Thorne.”
“You are to me. I need to finish up here, and then I’ll come to you.”
He was grateful she nodded, that she wasn’t entirely done with him. After he saw her safely into her brother’s carriage, he headed back into the residence. People were wandering into the entryway. “I say! I have an announcement you won’t want to miss. Everyone make your way back to the ballroom, please.”
Expecting something titillating, perhaps even his disclosing which lady had caught his fancy, no one hesitated to return to the grand salon. Standing at the top of the stairway, he looked out over the eager crowd. Only his mother appeared worried. For good reason, he supposed, since he continually disappointed her.
He cleared his throat. “A few weeks ago, on the evening of the day I was to marry actually, I made a visit to Whitechapel and was attacked by some ruffians. Miss Trewlove stepped in and saved my life—literally. She did it all while knowing nothing at all about me. Not my rank or my position. Fully cognizant of how gossip travels among us, I’m rather certain even those of you who were not introduced to her are aware she owns a tavern, the Mermaid and Unicorn. Since that night, on occasion I have visited and always been made to feel welcome. As a way of thanking her for her kindness, I invited her to my mother’s ball, knowing hers are always splendid and beyond compare, and rather enjoyable. To those of you who made Miss Trewlove feel welcome, thank you. To those of you who did not, you missed the opportunity to meet a rather exceptional woman and your lives are poorer because of that.”
Turning on his heel, he began walking from a room that was so quiet he would have heard a plume from his mother’s adorned hair fall if it had come loose.
Chapter 24
Sitting in her front room, awaiting Thorne’s arrival, Gillie was hit with the realization that her last dance with Thorne was actually the final one for eternity. At the time, she’d thought they would have one more, would end the night circling the ballroom together. So now she concentrated on striving to absorb each moment of what had been their final waltz until it was a part of her, until it could never be forgotten, hoping it would carry her through the days and months and years ahead.
The way his eyes seemed to adore her, the shade she would see every time she poured a pint of Guinness. The manner in which the lights from the chandeliers glistened over his silky dark hair. The faintest of shadows that had hinted the stubble would soon begin to assert itself, allowing that no razor would ever hold it at bay for long.
His hands securely holding her, his long legs brushing up against her skirts, the way he swept her over the dance floor with such ease there might as well have been no one else upon it.
She recalled inhaling his tart fragrance, taking pleasure from his secretive smile, granted only to her, granted always only to her. He would dance with others at other balls. Some day, very soon, he would waltz with his wife. And she wondered if, when he did so, he would think of her.
Shifting on her sofa, she was torn between wishing she would haunt him and hoping she didn’t. She wanted to be unselfish, wanted his wife to be first among women in his eyes, but she couldn’t quite let go of the hope that he would, from time to time, think of her. They had shared something precious and rare, but she knew deep in her heart the time had come to end it. With her dressed in her fancy clothes and the lovely strains produced by the orchestra still lingering in her mind. She had followed the unicorn into his world, but it was time now to return to hers, without him.
When the knock sounded on her door, she rose calmly to her feet. She’d removed the false hairpiece earlier, because she’d wanted to welcome him into her abode as herself. It had been a silly thing to wear it. There had never been any artifice between them. She wanted his fingers tangled only in her own tresses, not in some that might have once belonged to another woman or, heaven forbid, some domesticated animal. She’d yet to remove her gown and all its underlying layers, and when she opened the door, she was grateful to see he’d come straight to her without changing from his evening attire.
One step over the threshold, one slam of the door, a toss aside of his hat, and he had her in his arms, his mouth carrying her away on a current of passion and desire—too soon, too fast, before she’d told him the truth she’d come to understand.
