He cleared his throat again. “I have come to inform you all that I will be hosting the Winter Solstice ball this year. Here, in this very hall.”
A collective gasp went through the room.
“You are all invited,” he continued, his gaze sweeping across the space. “The children included.”
Despite their fear, the children’s faces broke into delighted smiles. Joan saw Imogen clasp her hands together in excitement, saw Percival exchange thrilled glances with Edmund.
“The children are very happy to receive your invitation, Your Grace,” Joan said, speaking for the students who were still too intimidated to find their voices. “As are we all. Thank you for your generosity.”
The Duke’s mouth curved into that familiar smirk, and his unfocused gaze seemed to settle on her. “I am glad.”
Joan wondered if he could actually see her clearly or if he was simply very skilled at hiding his impairment. She suspected the latter, he had become remarkably adept at compensating for his limited vision.
“Miss Sinclair,” the Duke said. “A word. In private.”
Victoria’s face broke into a knowing grin. She immediately began herding the children toward the door. “Come along, darlings. Let’s leave Miss Sinclair to speak with His Grace.”
As she passed Joan, Victoria had the audacity to wink. Joan glared at her sister, which only made Victoria’s grin widen. She heard Edmund and Percival giggling as they were shepherded outside.
Then the door closed, and Joan was alone with the Duke.
He stepped closer. Joan instinctively stepped back.
His smirk widened. “Nervous, Miss Sinclair?”
“Not at all, Your Grace.”
He took another step forward. “I have sent a gift to your residence. It should have arrived this morning.”
Joan’s breath caught. “A gift, Your Grace? That’s very generous, but surely?—”
“It is merely to thank you for your assistance with my accounts,” he said smoothly. “I thought it would be more appropriate to send it to your home rather than present it to you directly.”
Heat flooded Joan’s face. She coughed delicately. “I am grateful for whatever gift you’ve chosen to send, Your Grace. I’m certain it will be perfectly appropriate.”
“You don’t even know what it is.”
What could it be?Joan wondered frantically.Jewelry? Books? Money?But she couldn’t bring herself to ask, couldn’t trust her voice not to betray her curiosity.
The Duke moved forward again, close enough now that she could catch his scent. His hand brushed against hers, the barest whisper of contact that nevertheless sent electricity racing up her arm.
He leaned in, his mouth near her ear. “I look forward to seeing you at the ball, Miss Sinclair.”
His voice dropped to barely above a whisper. “I feel red would look exquisite on you.”
Shivers cascaded down Joan’s spine. Before she could formulate a response, he had turned and was walking away, his valet falling into step behind him.
Joan stood frozen in place, her hand pressed to her racing heart, wondering how a simple color suggestion could feel so intimate.
CHAPTER TWELVE
“You must come, Joan,” Victoria had insisted. “The Duke specifically invited you. It would be rude to refuse.”
The evening of the Winter Solstice ball arrived far too quickly. Joan had spent the intervening days trying to convince Victoria that she shouldn’t attend, but her sister had been relentless.
“He invited everyone. It wasn’t a personal invitation.”
Victoria had simply raised one knowing eyebrow, and Joan had found herself unable to argue further.
