“Half the fun is in the chase.”
Though she laughed, Elizabeth felt threatened by the sensuality he exuded because her heart had quickened the moment he stepped into her awareness and had not slowed. “Is that to say you will be chasing me?”
“Depends.”
“You are staring, sir, and there is nothing to see but shadows.” Elizabeth was confident he could not discern her features.
“Shadows often hide the most intriguing secrets,” he said smoothly, his gaze not leaving her. “I’ve always enjoyed unraveling mysteries.”
“I am hardly mysterious.”
“Permit me to know who you are.”
Caution pushed her to say, “No.”
“Perhaps I could entice you to reveal yourself with the promise of better company. Your boredom with the night would end.”
Elizabeth smiled. “You think highly of your company, sir.”
“As you should of yours,” he countered, stepping just a tad closer, his rousing fragrance mingling with the night air. “It is not every day one encounters a lady who is witty and laughs so beautifully.”
Elizabeth smiled, yet something in his tone, a lack of warmth, suggested a certain detachment.What a charmer you are, she thought, but his gaze carried a cynical edge, as if every interaction were merely a move in a strategic game.
“Such unabashed flattery, sir,” she said, wondering about the true nature of the man before her. “One might think you have practiced this art of flirtation quite extensively.”
Another step brought him startlingly close. His rich masculine scent surrounded her, and something heated and uncomfortable shivered low in her belly.
“Flattery is merely the currency of theton,” he replied, his tone unapologetic, almost dismissive.
Elizabeth was struck by his candor—so different from the usual veil of nicety she encountered in her social circles. She found herself staring, intrigued and a bit unsettled.
“Do any of your words carry the weight of sincerity, or are they just well-rehearsed lines meant to chase and disarm?”Are you only a rogue?
His silver eyes seemed to flicker with a provocative light. “Are you disarmed?”
She laughed, a clear sound that filled the cool night air. “No, sir, I am not.”
At that moment, a noise distracted him, and he turned, his broad shoulders shielding her from view. Elizabeth felt a flutter of warmth—his gesture, protective and considerate of her reputation, was at odds with the cynicalfaçadehe projected.
“Basil,” a lady’s crisp voice called out, her tone laced with irritation. “Why do you insist on escaping even though you only just arrived?”
“I glimpsed the matchmaking fervor in your eyes and thought a retreat strategically best,” he responded smoothly.
The lady huffed. “You sorely vex my nerves. I am of the mind to depart early. Lady Michaels will have to forgive me. I met themostunpleasant lady. I cannot imagine why the countess thought it necessary to perform introductions to this Mrs. Armstrong. She is an American, and you know how vulgar they are with their manners, and this one … I shudder upon recalling her laugh and deplorable accent.”
A cold sensation pierced Elizabeth’s chest, and she stiffened, the words slicing through her like a blade. The contempt and prejudice were palpable, leaving a tight ache in her heart.
“Allow me to relieve you of the horror by escorting you home,” the duke offered, his tone smooth as silk, betraying no sign of disapproval of the lady’s cutting words.
Numb, she watched him walk away with the elegantly dressed lady. Anger and embarrassment churned within her as she took a deep breath and forced herself back into the ballroom, weaving through the crowd to find her mother and aunt.
“Mother—” she started, her voice tight with emotion, only to freeze as her brother and the duke approached.
Her aunt gasped, her fan snapping up to cover her mouth. “Brandon is coming over with the Duke of Basil! I never knew he was acquainted with the duke! How fortuitous.”
Her brother and the duke stopped before them, and the duke gave no indication of their recent conversation or recognition.
Does he realize I was with him on the terrace?
