I am going to dance with the Duke of Burenwood.
Right now.
He moved to the centre of the room, neatly shucking off his jacket and tossing it into a corner. Then he extended his hand towards Maggie.
Their eyes met. His were questioning, eyebrows raised. Maggie had no idea what he saw in her eyes, but she feltbaffled.
I’m going to dance with him. Nothing about this man makes sense.
She set aside the book and tentatively extended her hand towards his. When she touched his palm, she was surprised to find it rough and firm, like a worker’s hands. Generally, gentlemen prided themselves on having soft, delicate hands, smooth and well-cared for. There was nothing wrong in that, of course, but when the duke’s strong, rough fingers closed over hers, a strange shiver ran through her, swift and unaccountable.
She moved towards him almost as if it were a dream. Shehadwaltzed, of course, but not in a while, and she missed a beat before getting into position. He stepped closer, to her consternation, and did not release her hand. His other hand found her waist, steady and sure. Maggie remembered, just in time, to lift her free hand to his shoulder and rise lightly onto the balls of her feet.
He was watching her, face composed. She was certain her own cheeks were crimson.
I have underestimated him,she thought, breath catching.I thought I had the measure of him, but I don’t, not at all.
“Are you quite comfortable, Miss Winter?” he asked, his voice low. There was a challenge beneath the civility.
“Perfectly,” she managed. “I am looking forward to waltzing again.”
He smiled faintly and glanced at Jenny. “Clap the time for us, if you please—three-four. Emma, watch closely. Now then, one… two—”
They never reached three. The faint, rhythmic rattle of carriage wheels on wet gravel rose from the driveway below.
A shadow crossed the duke’s face. He stepped back at once, releasing her hand and waist. Maggie felt oddly chilled where his touch had been.
Jenny went to the window, Emma close behind. The little girl gave a delighted cry.
“Oh, Uncle! You’ll never guess who it is—Aunt Harriet’s come to visit!”
Maggie happened to be watching the duke’s face when she said it. His expression shut like a trap.
“There’s someone in the carriage with her, too,” Jenny added curiously. “It’s a lady.”
Chapter Ten
Neil hurried down the stairs, biting into the inside of his cheek until he tasted copper.
He could still feel the touch of Miss Winter’s hand—light, cool, impossibly soft. The recollection made his own hand curl into a fist, the knuckles whitening until the skin creaked.
What on earth possessed me to ask her to dance in such a fashion? How intolerably awkward I must have made her feel.
She had looked uncomfortable, her gaze darting around and her cheeks flushing. Of course, she would not have been able to refuse him. He was the duke, after all. Her employer. He should not have put her in such a position; that much was true.
He reached the bottom of the stairs and was thankful to see that he was not followed. Jenny would hopefully get Emma dressed and ready to greet her great-aunt later. For now, Neil had to deal with these unexpected guests. He had glimpsed a second carriage trundling up the drive behind his aunt’s and suspected that Aunt Harriet had come with a definite purpose in mind.
Crawford was already lingering in the hallway with a couple of footmen and threw a nervous glance towards Neil.
“Guests, your Grace?”
“Unexpected ones,” Neil responded grimly. “Are there any spare rooms ready?”
“Of course, your Grace.”
“Good. Inform Mrs Thornton and arrange for a larger dinner this evening. For now, let us greet our uninvited visitors.”
Neil stepped through the open front door, reaching the top of the steps just as the first carriage drew to a halt. It was a handsome, well-sprung vehicle, freshly lacquered and drawnby four high-stepping horses. A liveried footman leapt down to open the door before Crawford could reach it.
