“The same could be said for you, Your Grace,” she countered then, and he could not help but admire her pluck, for his laughter or lack thereof was beyond the realm of her concern.
At least until he made her his mistress, after which point, her concern would be pleasing him and being pleasured by him in equal measure.
But matching wits with her before an audience was not nearly as thrilling as being alone with her. And he did not wish for his sisters to make assumptions or unwittingly carry gossip to the servants. Sensing they were about to sail into dangerous waters, he stood, walked to Miss Governess, and offered the finest bow he could muster.
He extended his hand with a chivalrous air he did not feel. He had not attended a ball in ages. Unless one counted Cyprian balls, that was, and one should definitely not count Cyprian balls. Even he, black-hearted scoundrel that he was, knew that much.
“Will you do me the honor of dancing with me, Miss Turnbow?” he asked with aching formality.
No one would ever guess only that morning his tongue had been in her mouth and his cock had been wedged against the welcoming heat of her cunny. It would be there again in short measure. All in good time, however. First, the dance. He told himself it was to please his sisters, but that was not entirely true. Any excuse to touch Jacinda Turnbow would do.
Her frown deepened. She opened her mouth to once more deny him, he was sure.
“Please, Miss Turnbow?” his sisters asked in unison before she could respond.
“We play well together,” added Nora. “You said so yourself. But a reel is not nearly as lively without dancers.”
He cast an approving glance back at his sisters. Here was the loyalty he’d been seeking.
“Our brother will not trounce your feet if that is what your fear.” Con dimpled. “The scandal sheets say he is an excellent dancer.”
Perhaps not. Tightening his jaw, he turned back to Miss Governess, whose expression had gone sour.
“If he were not, I daresay Mrs. Nulty should not be nearly as fond of him as she is,” said Nora.
Most decidedly fucking not.
Crispin almost choked. The color drained from Miss Governess’s cheeks, her lips thinning back into the line of disapproval he had come to know and lust after so well. Blast, one would not think a woman’s condemnation and dreary dress could be so damned arousing, but she set his blood on fire. Still, his sister needed to be reminded of her insolence.
He singed Nora with a glare. “Lady Honora.”
She raised a brow, blinking and beatific. “I beg your pardon, Crispin. Is not Mrs. Nulty exceedingly fond of you? Why else should she visit you so often? Penny said that—”
“Who the dickens is Penny?” he growled.My God, they were making a fine muck of things.
“My lady’s maid.”
He would sack her for gossiping at the first possible opportunity. With a suffering sigh, he returned his attentions once more to Miss Governess, whose color had returned to her cheeks but whose sour mien had not sweetened. Blast.
“Let us have the dance then.” He wiggled the fingers of his outstretched hand. “Come, Miss Turnbow. Surely one lively Scottish reel cannot harm you.”
“One with you could,” she said so only the duke could hear.
She would find him a persistent man. He would not stop until he had what he wanted, and he wanted her. Whether it be a reel or in his bed until he had his fill of her, he would have it, by God.
“Or you could enjoy yourself and please your charges,” he countered.
“They can be pleased in other ways.”
“You could please me,” he murmured. And he did not just mean the bloody dance, but it was a point on the map upon which they could begin.
She stilled, her eyes flaring wide. “Why should I wish to do such a thing?”
He gave her a feral grin. “Because I am your employer, and you are subject to my whims. Now no more tarrying, if you please. Con and Nora are prepared to demonstrate their talent for ‘Mrs. McSomething of Somewhere’.”
At last, and with a suffering look cast his way, Miss Governess deigned to rise, settling her hand in his. He would have rejoiced over his victory had she not trampled it beneath her slipper by pursing her lips and murmuring in a tone steeped in condemnation, “You do not even know how to perform the dance, do you?”
Of course he didn’t. Dancing and idle ballroom chatter and tepid ratafia was for virgins and desperate, matchmaking mamas and preening dandies. But improvisation was one of his many skills, and he would turn Miss Governess about any ballroom any day. In fact, he could not think of anything else he would like to do more in the moment, aside from acts that could not be committed in the presence of his sisters.
