He tilted his drink toward me in a silent toast before finishing the glass in one swallow.
“What will you do now?” I asked.
He answered with a nonchalant shrug. “I suspect I have some time before the situation becomes untenable. I’ll try to enjoy myself while I can. Then… Well, I’ve got some independent property in Scotland. Perhaps I will go there.”
“If there’s ever anything I can do for you…”
“Besides marriage?”
That broke a soft chuckle from me.
“Besides marriage.”
“I do not think you’re in a position to offer anyone anything right now. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you’re destitute. Also, ruined.”
“I thought I heard something of that nature this evening. I will let you know what it’s like. Being cast from society.” I turned back to the doors and squared my shoulders.
“Do you want some company? Entering the wolves’ den?”
“Thank you, but this is something I need to do for myself.”
He offered me a silent nod before wandering lazily back where he had come from, I suspected in search of another drink.
Alone in the empty hall once more, I stared up at the intimidating arched doors. I was surprised when I realized I felt no need to count. I expected more panic. With a single deep inhale, no lung hitch to be felt, I grasped both handles and pulled them open. Though I was more confident than I had expected, I couldn’t help but close my eyes, bracing as I stepped into society’s wrath.
The ballroom was deathly quiet, a feat I had previously thought unimaginable. I had stunned the entire ton into silence with my shamelessness. The instinct to count still remained quiet. Just as I was about to open my eyes, I heard a soft whisper in my ear. “Just breathe, Duchess.” Instantly my eyes flew open, meeting his on a gasp.
“Michael! What are you doing here?”
He hesitated only a moment before replying, “I’m here for you. I was hoping you might favor me with a dance.” His expression was more earnest than I could ever recall seeing. I liked it on him.
“You don’t dance.”
He slipped two ungloved fingers under my chin, tipping my head back to meet his smoky gaze. “I think you’d be surprised by what I’m willing to do for you.”
My heart skipped, and my stomach flipped at the reminder. My lips parted on a gasp, and I was entirely without words. I ached for him to pull me closer, to press his lips to mine. I was about to do it myself, pull him close, take matters into my own hands, when the whispers of the ton penetrated my romance-addled mind. Lady Charlotte’s infuriated complaints rose above the rest. He must have noted them, too, because he dropped his hand as though burned. Before he pulled too far away, I caught his fingers in mine.
“I would love a dance. But I do not know if you heard, I am not to be a duchess any longer.” I tried to infuse the statement with humor, but there was a small, insecure, irrational, voice inside me. It whispered that he would not want me now that I was ruined.
He banished it in the next moment, sliding my hand into the crook of his elbow as he escorted me gracefully down the stairs to the dance floor. The room was elegant with a slightly overpowering, rose scent perfuming the air. That was no surprise since every available surface was covered with the blooms in every color of the rainbow.
“I heard something to that effect,” he muttered with a thoughtfully furrowed brow. “I can’t say I’m overly saddened by the news.” He leaned closer, offering a rough whisper for my ears only. “If you were someone else’s duchess, the things I’m dying to do with you would be most improper.”
A delightful shiver ran through me at the thoughts of what things he might want us to do together. He lined us up on the dance floor for the upcoming waltz. He thoughtfully placed my left hand on his shoulder before lacing the fingers of my right hand through his. Poor form but the intimacy of the gesture left me giddy.
“Why do I suspect the things you’re referring to are most improper, regardless of my situation?”
His answering smirk was wicked. My body responded in kind, heat coursing through me to gather in my center. He slipped his free hand to my waist, pulling me too close for propriety but not close enough for my senses. That devilish hand slid lower, eventually finding a scandalous home low on my hip.
Lady Charlotte and her guests seemed to have taken our lead and lined up on the floor. Their attention remained on Michael and me. We were pressed shamefully close. I suspected the couples were hoping for a better view of our shocking behavior to report on the morrow. With three succinct taps on the stand, the conductor directed the orchestra to begin. Michael’s lead was steady and graceful. I doubted I would have sensed the trepidation in his direction had I not been already familiar with the confidence underlying his ministrations. That thought warmed in more ways than one. That he would undertake efforts he was so unsure of for my pleasure, in front of the entire ton no less, sent a burst of affection through me. The reminder of that afternoon, on the other hand, shot a searing heat through my veins.
He huffed out a throaty chuckle. “Why do I suspect your thoughts are just as improper as mine, Duchess?”
I could feel the flush building in my cheeks, but I summoned my courage. “Perhaps more so…” His answering smile was brighter, adoring, and less seductive than the one I had expected. I felt my own tugging at the corners of my lips in response. “But I’m not a duchess, remember?”
“Oh, I’m not likely to forget that any time soon.” His voice was low and sensual, but his expression was still ardent, almost… loving. Oh, a luscious glow filled my chest to bursting at that thought. “You’re my duchess, though.” His voice was a low, erotic purr as the dance came to a close. “So, tell me, my duchess, how long must we remain here, under the watchful eyes of the ton, to prevent scandal, ruination, and gossip?”
With the end of the set, he reluctantly released my hip, but I could not bring myself to step back, to increase the distance between us. Neither one of us made an effort to separate our joined hands.
