“And before?”
Her fingers tightened against his bicep, and by God, he wanted her. “Nothing of note,” she said again, and he could have laughed.
“Liar.” They reached the side door, and he paused, taking her hand and bowing over it with as much icy grace as he could muster. “Until next time, my lady.”
Liar.
The word singed Thalia’s skin as she watched the Duke stride away through the crowd, his back stiff and straight and his demeanor so cold it would have given an icicle a run for its money.
How dare he take her outside as though he might ravish her, then claim that to better protect her reputation, he must return her to the party? She had been so certain he would kiss her, and worse, she hadwantedhim to.
Anna was right. How galling.
How dare he be so delectable? And sowounded. He boxed because he wanted an escape. He sought moments when he didn’t have to be the Duke. In the boxing ring, he was just a man, and as someone else who had lost someone close to her, she understood the appeal.
They were more alike than she had ever given them credit for being.
Once again, Anna was right. He was better than she had imagined, and there was something between them. Even though he had failed to kiss her, she knew he wanted to. Admittedly, she had not had an enormous amount of practical experience with men, but she did know when a man wanted to kiss her.
Irritated with him for making her feel like this, irritated that he hadn’t taken advantage of their time alone, and annoyed with herself for caring, she re-entered the soiree, only to encounter her father.
“Ah, there you are,” he said briskly, though with an expression that suggested she would be punished for her absence. “I have someone to introduce to you.”
Thalia bit back the urge to groan. Sooner or later, one of her father’s cronies would propose, and she would either accept and be miserable or refuse and face her father’s wrath.
Neither option was good, but the only alternative would be to marry someone else, and she could think of no one who would suit her.
Her mind drifted again to the way the Duke had defended her honor to Lord Vauron, making it clear that Thalia would not be marrying him—and how Vauron had immediately backed away.
Then she did her best to put that from her mind. The Duke would hardly be her defender if she asked him to, and besides, she liked her independence.
She would simply have to deter this latest gentleman the only way she knew how: by boring him.
To that end, she bared her teeth in a slightly manic smile.
“Good evening!” she said brightly. “I hope you are as eager to talk about duck husbandry as I am!”
CHAPTER 10
“Finally,” she sighed.
Thalia glanced behind her at the empty windows as she slipped out of the house.
Fortunately, her father was out, as usual. These days, it was rare for him to remain at home, which made sneaking out all the easier for her.
Unfortunately, she could not be certain of all the servants’ loyalties; some were loyal to her, like her lady’s maid, but some would tattle to her father if they knew she was sneaking out.
Thus, she had crept downstairs through the servants’ halls, a cloak over her jewel gown, her lady’s maid having left the side door unlocked. With barely a sound, she slipped through. There were a few servants still awake; the valet polishing her father’s shoes, and the butler counting the wine; she could hear him uncorking the decanters and pouring.
No one heard her pass, and then she was on the street.
With one hand, she hailed a passing hackney, the driver looking at her suspiciously until she held up a bag of coins. Most men would do almost anything for the right sum, she had discovered, and her sculptures ensured that she almost always had the right sum to hand.
The cab was small and smelled like stale sweat. She wrinkled her nose as she gave the address: a rather exclusive venue in Mayfair where a gentleman was hosting a party for the arts. Alessandro Rossi had been invited, of course, but she was going in his stead to beg forgiveness.
Or that was the plan. She had the invitation in her reticule, and she would stay just long enough for her presence to be noted—then she would have to hurry back to be in bed for when her father returned home.
He didn’t usually check in on her, but she preferred to leave nothing to chance when it came to her father. Once, he had caught her returning home from the studio in the late afternoon, and he had hurled a vase at the wall in anger.
