Page 91 of When a Duke Loves a Woman
“I had to put on a thousand undergarments to make everything fit and fall properly. Being a lady is a lot of work.”
“I appreciate you went to the effort.”
“I appreciate you covered it up.”
“But in my mind I can still see every glorious inch. The gown is quite provocative. Makes me want to trail my mouth where cloth meets skin.”
Her cheeks turned a soft pink that hinted at a blush. “Shouldn’t gents have to show their skin as well?”
He raised his eyebrows. “That would be interesting, wouldn’t it? Although I don’t think we look quite so enticing when bits of us are showing.”
She glanced around. Fewer people were paying them attention, and he hoped by the time they finished their second dance, she might be comfortable enough to hand back over his jacket. While he didn’t care what she wore, he couldn’t deny that he very much did appreciate the way the gown molded to her torso, the way it displayed her bare shoulders and neck.
“If I lived in a house such as this one, I think I would forever worry about knocking things over and breaking them,” she said.
“You grow accustomed to where things are. I could probably walk through the residence in my sleep without bumping into anything.”
“I saw armor in the front hallway.”
He nodded. “It belonged to the first duke. Of course, he wasn’t a duke until he wore that armor and fought for a king—quite spectacularly if legend is to be believed.”
“You know all your ancestors,” she said in awe.
“Not the ones before him, which I’ve always found to be a shame. I suspect they were the most interesting of the lot.”
“And your mum’s family? You know it as well?”
He’d never referred to his mother as Mum, which he viewed as a warmer, more intimate address. He found it interesting that Gillie didn’t hesitate to use the term, but then, based on the little bit he knew about the woman who had raised her, he suspected she was a good deal more demonstrative with her affections. “Back generations. Her father was an earl. Her brother now holds the title.”
“Is he here?”
“No.” Thorne wasn’t about to marry one of his cousins, so his uncle hadn’t bothered to leave the country for the ball his mother had insisted upon hosting in the off-Season. “I suspect he’s well ensconced in grouse hunting by now.”
The music drifted into silence. He wished he could claim a third dance, but people would really be staring at her then, and speculation about her would begin making the rounds. He was rather certain it was already, but he had no desire to taint her reputation, and giving her too much attention would certainly accomplish that. “It is with a great deal of regret that I must see to my other guests,” he said. “I’ll escort you to your brother.”
“You’ll want your jacket. It wouldn’t be proper to greet them without it.”
“I can jaunt upstairs and fetch another.”
She smiled, such a sweet endearing smile that he wished he could order everyone to leave so he could spend time only in her company. “I can fetch my wrap if I start to get those chills again.”
He assisted her with removing his jacket, then shrugged into it. She straightened his lapels, such an intimate, personal act, one that made him wish she could do it every morning of his life.
“You’re such a handsome devil,” she said.
“Know that if the ladies are looking at you, they are doing so with envy as none wear a gown as well as you do. If the gents are looking at you, know they are doing so with longing. Be certain they don’t hold you too close while waltzing or I may have to challenge them to a duel to protect your honor.”
“I can see to my own honor, thank you.”
“I’ve no doubt of that, but it doesn’t mean you should have to.” Offering his arm, he walked her over to the edge of the dance floor, where her brother waited. Mick Trewlove was an intimidating fellow. Even if Thorne hadn’t spotted him, he’d have felt his gaze burrowing into him. When they reached him, Thorne took Gillie’s hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles, reluctant to leave her. “I’d like to claim the last dance.”
Nodding, she wrote his name on her dance card. With that, he turned on his heel to see to his duty.
It was with a bit of regret that Gillie watched him walk away. Based upon the number of dances listed on her card, it would be a while before she spoke with him again.
“You seem quite comfortable with him. Is he courting you?” Mick asked.
“Don’t be daft.” During all the hours he’d instructed her in waltzing, he’d kept his opinions to himself, hadn’t interrogated her to determine why she would be invited to a duchess’s ball. “Although he was the man who got into your carriage—”
