She turned away, concentrating on her latest partner, equally well dressed but devoid of charm.
As she was led to the side of the room for the fourth time, the man she’d been spying on appeared at her side, smiling expectantly at her last partner until he blanched under the scrutiny and walked away. Then, he looked down at her and smiled. ‘Alone, at last.’
‘We are not alone,’ she said glancing at the crowded room around them, hoping to see the next man who would partner her. But the orchestra was tuning up for a waltz and no one was coming to save her.
The Duke seemed to sense her dismay and ignored it, smiling. ‘When I am with you, no one else matters.’
She snapped her fan open and waved it vigorously in front of her, trying to cool the blush that must be rising in her cheeks. Perhaps now was the time to ask for lemonade. If she did so, he might go away.
Or perhaps she could allow herself some small interaction. He would likely disappoint her, as all the other men here had, and it would be that much easier to forget him. ‘That is very flattering, Your Grace. Do you use it often, when trying to turn heads?’
He laughed. ‘Actually, yes. But there are rare times when I mean it.’
She nodded. ‘So, you are telling me that I am one of a small group. I suppose I should be honoured.’ She stared out at the dancers, pretending that his presence did not matter to her. ‘Assuming your last comment referred to me and not another.’
‘Touché.’ He stared out into the room as well, then said, ‘I was indeed, referring to you. I can honestly say you are the only person that has mattered to me in a very long time.’
Her fan froze in mid flutter as she tried to think of an answer to this florid compliment. Then, she remembered that she did not mean to complicate her life by admitting to visiting his bedroom. She snapped the fan shut and let it dangle from her wrist. ‘Three days, at least, Your Grace. That was when you met me, wasn’t it? At my ball in the Argyle Rooms?’
Now he stared at her for a moment, then said, ‘So you say.’ He glanced towards the orchestra. ‘They are tuning up for the waltz.’
‘I suspect so,’ she replied. Would she have to contend with his attentions for the whole of the dance? She wondered how long she would be able to stay ahead of him, for he was far more experienced with this verbal fencing than she was.
‘You must dance it with me,’ he said in a voice as smooth and sweet as honey.
‘Must?’ She gave him another sidelong look. ‘That is quite impossible. I am not permitted to waltz.’
‘Rules are made to be broken,’ he said and took her hand, pulling her gently towards the opening in the velvet barrier.
She looked around her, trying to contain her panic. She could not waltz or she would offend the patronesses. By tomorrow, all of London would know of her lapse in propriety.
But neither could she fight against his lead without creating an embarrassing scene. Where were Portia and Julian? She needed a rescue.
‘They are out on the dance floor already and have eyes only for each other,’ he said, as if reading her thoughts.
‘I will lose my vouchers,’ she said in an urgent whisper.
‘Not over something as small as this,’ he said, swinging her easily into his arms.
‘They will evict you as well,’ she added.
‘Nonsense.’
‘They would not admit Wellington himself, and he was just a few minutes late and wearing trousers instead of breeches.’
‘That was Wellington. I am me.’
‘He conquered Napoleon.’
‘And I shall conquer Lady Jersey,’ he replied, spinning her around until she was quite dizzy.
She wanted to laugh, but the situation was far too serious. As she turned, she cast a frantic look in the direction of the lady he’d mentioned, trying to relay the wordless message that she’d had no real say in the predicament she’d landed in. But judging by the frown she received in response her side of the story might not matter.
‘You are an excellent dancer, despite your lack of attention to your partner,’ Westbridge said, smiling as his hand tightened on her waist.
The sudden stop forced her to look up, into his eyes.
‘Better,’ he said, beaming at her. ‘It crushes my fragile spirit to think you would rather look at others than at me, now that I finally have you in my arms.’
