Michael rubbed his face and groaned. It had taken him years to forget. Of course, she would turn up in his life again now! Her timing couldn’t be worse!
He had finally set his mind on a woman to marry and—of course!—he ran into Lilly again.
He’d put it off for years, frankly unable to believe another woman existed who could hold his interest long enough to merit entering the institution. He’d convinced himself his efforts and time were better spent improving his estates. Hundreds depended upon the ducal lands for a living, and Michael took this very much to heart.
But this past year he had also decided, for that very same reason, he needed an heir. He needed to ensure the future as well as the present. And so, in a rational and calculated manner, he had chosen his future duchess.
Closing his eyes, Michael endeavored to bring Lady Natalie Spencer’s image to mind.
The girl had turned one-and-twenty this past winter. She was pretty and pleasant. Her father’s lands abutted one ofMichael’s larger estates and combined they could increase efficiencies by thirty percent. And then there was her astoundingly large dowry. Not that he needed the funds, but if one is to marry, one might as well make an excellent business transaction out of it.
But what did shelooklike, for heaven’s sake!
Blond hair, yes, but it was yellower than Lilly’s. Natalie was taller, slimmer. He’d glimpsed her ankles on a few occasions and decided she must have fabulous legs. They had danced together several times, and Michael had enjoyed the feel of her in his arms. She was very graceful but a bit aloof.
Her face was…Dammit, what was the color of her eyes? He tried to picture her lips, but images of Lilly intruded. Suddenly, his mind’s eye pictured golden eyes.
Had she been too young to realize what they had had together? She’d come to London and easily acquired a devoted, lovesick beau. He’d happily followed her from one social event to another throughout the entire season. Had she not experienced love as he had?
And then he recalled how she had yielded to him both physically and emotionally. She’d held back nothing. She’d been his, completely: heart, mind, and soul. Or so he had thought.
When he’d first met Lilly, she had been a vivacious, gorgeous girl.
She’d grown into a hauntingly beautiful woman.
Dressed as a matron, she’d not fooled him with her shapeless gown and severely styled hair. In fact, the utter lack of frivolity about Lilly’s person merely pronounced her delicate features all the more.
Rosebud lips which had once opened so generously for him, and only him, couldn’t help but stir his desire. He tortured himself further with the memory of how those golden eyes had stared into his very soul.
Michael opened his eyes as a servant entered the room.
“Would you care for some brandy, Your Grace?”
“Scotch,” he answered. “Might as well bring the decanter.”
What a fool he’d been! He couldn’t help remembering the first time they’d met.
Spring1815
If the white dress hadn’t given her away as a debutante, then her wonder and excitement would have. So open in her appreciation of her surroundings, she sparkled. Everything about her sparkled—her dress, her hair, even her skin.
This girl failed miserably at feigning even the slightest ennui.
Michael couldn’t help smiling as he observed her.
She was going to tug one of the pearls off the back of her gloves if she continued fidgeting with them. She was either restless or nervous, likely a little of both.
Tipping her head back to examine the artwork on the rounded ceiling, she dislodged a few ringlets from her coiffure. The graceful arc of her neck had him unconsciously licking his lips. Her hair shimmered like silk, nearly the color of her pearls. She was utterly delightful.
And then, after dragging her attention away from the ceiling, her gaze drifted around the room and she caught him watching her.
The color of her eyes surprised him. They were such a light brown as to be golden. Michael’s heart jumped as though coming to life after a long slumber. In some way, a connection already existed between them. Surprising himself, he turned away.
She had somehow stolen his equilibrium. Besides her fragile beauty, she possessed an intangible allure he could not identify.
Casting his gaze downwards, he took a deep breath. He’d fancied himself a bit of a rake, not a complete degenerate, like some of his acquaintances, but somewhat of a ladies’ man. He’d never failed to maintain his composure where a woman was concerned. And so, when he looked a second time, he openly admired her. This time it was she who quickly turned away.
Her chaperones chose that moment to pull her along the line, and she disappeared into the throngs of guests.
