“I want to go home,” she whispered to the skies, quietly but earnestly, as if pleading with the pale crescent moon above. “I just want to go home!”
It was all too much. Rose’s father was likely dying, she was disappointing her family in failing to find a husband, and disappointing herself in failing to find love. She had made herself ridiculous tonight although Lord Gillingham need not have been so cruel.
I abhor speaking with simpletons who squander their trivial lives in meaningless claptrap…
How could she have thought him so kind and good? Rose supposed that she was not a very good judge of character. But how did anyone learn to understand such complexities as people or love? She had always simply trusted her heart and fate. Trying to become more like pragmatic Madeline felt like being told to climb a high mountain.
To top it all off, the Duke of Ravenhill's teasing voice was still resonating in her head, more memorable than any other, for some reason.
…do you not know how to waltz? If so, I would be honored to be your teacher…
Had he been mocking her too, in some subtler way? Rose despaired of understanding and could not wait for the morning when she could escape back to Westvale Park – and ideally never lay eyes on Dorian Voss again.
The sound of music was still audible but faint at this distance and Rose knew that when it stopped fully, it would mean a break in the dancing. She must then return to the refreshment room. Otherwise her brothers would doubtless worry and come looking for her.
The music paused and Rose closed her eyes, willing it to start again for the next dance. She was not yet ready to endureEdwin’s further lectures, nor to smile on some eligible young man, even if anyone were to ask her to dance.
In the shadows, Rose pulled the shawl more tightly around herself and wished hard for the earth to swallow her up. Then, an older longing rose up from the depths of her heart and she wished only to find true love…
Before Rose could even form the words of this wish properly in her head, some movement nearby made her freeze. Was it an animal or a human being? Should she run away back to the house? She certainly did not wish to be discovered in her present state, nor to intrude on anyone else.
But where was the sound coming from and in which direction should she run? The noises became recognizable as soft, deliberate footsteps, the slight crunch of boots on gravel, and a sense of panic fluttered in Rose’s chest.
She would have run then if a strong pair of arms had not come from somewhere behind her and slipped around her waist. Too terrified to even scream, she found herself drawn back against a man’s broad firm chest.
“Found you, love. I thought you meant the other rose garden, further down.”
In contrast to his actions, the man’s tone and words were tender and softly spoken, lips touching Rose’s ear through the fine material of the shawl and hot breath caressing her skin. The voice resonated in her chest and a faint scent of cedar andsandalwood filled her nostrils, somehow sweeping away Rose’s initial fear on the wave of an entirely different but equally overwhelming sensation.
“God, I want you,” the man added, one of his hands actually sliding up and glancing over Rose’s bosom before partly pulling down the shawl from her head.
Already astonished and confused by these proceedings, Rose could barely breathe when a warm mouth found and began to nuzzle at her neck. She knew she should be afraid, she should scream and run from this, whatever it was. But something held her there, something more than a large and gentle, if entirely indecently placed, hand.
“You are different every time, more beautiful than ever tonight,” growled that rich, deep voice that seemed to touch her inside.
The mouth at her neck turned from a teasing nuzzle to a firmer pulling and then a gentle bite. The shocking pleasure of teeth at her skin ran down Rose’s spine like lightning, finally breaking the spell she seemed to have fallen under.
Rose spun around so fast that she would have fallen if her companion had not grabbed her arm and held her steady. Her free hand still came up of its own accord and flew at him, the resulting sharp slap across his handsome face resounding loudly through the night-time garden.
Duke of Ravenhill stepped back from her now, looking utterly stunned, his hand at his stricken cheek.
“You!” he murmured with incredulity.
Trembling, Rose regarded the duke warily as they stood together in the cold moonlight. His identity was not entirely a shock to her, she admitted to herself. Some part of her had recognized him from the moment she breathed in the scent of his skin. That part of her had even wanted exactly what he did and this new understanding of Dorian Voss’s influence on women wasterrifying.
“Good lord!” he now added and then gave a low, small laugh, as if the situation were more amusing than anything else. “I did not expect that tonight.”
“I did not intend to strike you,” Rose told him, both nervous and defensive as she wondered how to bring this strange encounter to an end. “You gave me such a fright that I could not help it, Your Grace.”
“Is that an apology?” the duke asked, his tone infuriatingly teasing once more. “It sounds a little like one.”
“Well, you should not have touched me!” Rose flung back at him, raising her chin and regarding him with defiant eyes. “You should apologize too!”
“It was an honest mistake,” he responded with a shrug. “But, certainly, you have my apologies, Lady Rose. I mistook you for someone else entirely, a friend of mine. Do excuse my error.”
The Duke of Ravenhill laughed again, low and sonorous and infuriating. What had occurred seemed to be only a joke for him. Rose supposed that he had mistaken her for Lady Lepford, also fair-haired and dressed in pink tonight. They must have arranged some sort of assignation and the white shawl about Rose’s head and shoulders had been enough to fool him briefly in the darkness.
“Your error? As far as I know, gentlemen do not normally go about biting even their friends and acquaintances in gardens at night,” Rose attempted to reprimand him but this seemed only to divert the duke further.
