“You are engaged?” he asked, trying to fight the urge to rear back.
“My guardians must return to the country. And things are so dear in London…”
She did not know how dear they were.
“So what’s this about getting married?” he asked, sweeping Marianne from the dance floor and maneuvering her to the open doors of a terrace overlooking the garden.
“My guardians entertain some hopes still,” she said, bearing up but clearly glum. “After many years of keeping me alive, they’re ready to be done with me.”
“You fear for your life?” he asked, shocked and prepared to carry her off immediately.
“Oh, no, not at all!” she exclaimed. “They simply want to close the book on me and send me off to be a drain on someone else’s purse.”
“Skinflints, are they?”
She cast him a rueful glance and a secret smile. His heart galloped.
“What are the prospects?”
“I’m told one has half of his teeth yet and another should be allowed a grope.”
“That dismal?” he asked, relaxing against the balustrade. Here in the twilight, in the company of Miss Vyler, his shell of ducal reserve dissolved as he sought to get closer to her in ways that had nothing to do with mere bodies.
Well. Perhaps it had something to do with bodies. But also minds, a first for him.
“I’m lucky,” she said with a forced smile, as if drawing forth a speech she gave herself daily to survive the life into which she’d landed. “I have a warm bed, a full plate, and my dear parents taught me my prayers before they passed. Very fortunate.”
“Is that enough?” he asked softly.
She turned her eyes on him, at once fiery and unyielding. Miss Vyler would be magnificent in her old age — provided that the earthly concerns that plagued her now didn’t bow her shoulders under their weight. It would be a shame for a musician of exceptional talent to be so strained.
“It will have to be enough,” she said, not for a moment allowing melancholy to seep into her voice.
Frederick looked down and realized he was still holding her hand. He’d failed to relinquish it after their dance. Gazing at her small fingers, he reasoned it must be too late now to give it back. Such an action might prove awkward. In the interest of good manners, he continued to hold it.
“I suppose we should go inside. I wouldn’t want anyone to think—”
“Think what?”
Miss Vyler’s eyes darted to the glass doors that allowed revelers in the ballroom to observe them.
“Think we’re up to something illicit?” Frederick asked, his voice warm.
She blanched. “No! No, I…hardly think people would believe you might do such a thing.”
He held back a snort. How little she knew.
“I simply wouldn’t want rumors about you to start. About licit activities,” she continued.
He studied the slope of her nose. It would look so fine captured in oil paint.
“Why shouldn’t people whisper about me?” he asked. “I’m a duke. It happens.”
“Well, I mean, regarding me.”
He moved closer, their gloved hands trading warmth in the evening chill.
“And why shouldn’t you be mentioned in connection with me? Are you not a good girl?”
