“From…the whispers in the ton,” she said on a shaky breath.
“I do not keep mistresses.” He twirled her around and brought her back to him. “And I have never had any complaints from the women in my past.”
She swallowed. “I’m starting to believe they call you the arrogant duke instead.”
He tilted his head back and let out a laugh. “Some do.”
“Do you ever tire of having to keep a certain… reputation?”
“Sometimes,” he admitted quietly. “But reputations are like armor. They’re easier to wear than the truth.”
“And what truth is that?”
He studied her before answering. “That even dukes want to be wanted for more than a title.”
Austin noticed a flicker of understanding in her eyes before she looked away.
“And do you believe you’ll find that here?” She looked around the ballroom dully as they danced. “Amongst Grandmother’scarefullyselected ladies?”
His eyes never left her. “I’m starting to think the most interesting one wasn’t on the original list.” Deena’s breath caught, and her gaze dropped. “And how long will you grace us with your presence?” Austin continued.
“That depends.”
“On?”
“On how quickly certain… matters are resolved.”
Her answers were careful and evasive. He felt the tension in her frame now, not just the pleasant warmth of her body but something coiled and almost anxious. She was hiding something.
“What could be so urgent that you had to flee Paris to resolve it here?” he asked curiously, guiding her through another turn.
“It’s not mine to speak of.” Her cheeks flamed.
“Are you all right?”
“I am perfectly fine,” she snapped back.
“Liar,” Austin muttered under his breath.
She shot him a sharp glance. “I’m not a liar. I simply dislike being interrogated on the dance floor.”
“Or perhaps,” he countered, “you are digging for information yourself.”
Austin thought about the threat to his title, and his heart clenched.
What if she has something to do with it?
He argued with himself internally; the idea of not trusting anyone, including his best friend’s sister, never occurred to him.
He let his thumb brush the inside of her wrist before he turned her, and he was surprised to find that her pulse beat as fast as his. “Are you nervous, Dee?”
Her head snapped up. “I told you not to call me that, and you’ve asked me more questions in the last minute.”
“Well, you’ve asked me more scandalous questions, so who should be more suspicious of whom?”
“My questions are simply asked out of professional curiosity.”
“Are you a spy of some sort?”
