There was no doubting his interest, but also no denying that she felt nothing at all when he looked at her or touched her. Not even a flutter of interest.
Damn Lucien. He had thrown her entire plan on its head by…by…well, by being him and reminding her how much she wanted him. One little taste of him and the flavor of all else was utterly ruined.
“Would you care to dance, Your Grace?” Highbridge asked, sending meaningful looks to the other men circling her.
She forced her attention fully on her companion. “That would be very nice, thank you.”
She rose and the rest stood with her, murmuring their desire for her to save another for them, as well. She nodded as she took Highbridge’s arm and let him take her to the dancefloor.
When he did, her eyes widened. Unlike at a Society gathering, the dancing here was far more scandalous. Couples pressed close together, moving in sensual displays. Some kissed and touched openly.
She let her gaze flit to Highbridge. “I, er…”
He shook his head. “We are only getting to know each other, my dear. I have no expectation that we will engage in such behavior.” He took her hand and spun her onto the floor. “Yet.”
She caught her breath at the idea of doing such things with this man—ever. It was one thing to give oneself as a mistress, quite another to grind against a man in public without heed for those around her.
Couldshe do that? Or was she just entirely over her head?
“You look very lovely,” Highbridge said, his gaze sweeping over her in appreciation.
She blushed. She was wearing another of her old gowns, altered so the neckline was scandalously low. She still didn’t feel comfortable with the air on so much of her skin. But at least it wasn’t black. How she hated black, and she still had a few months left of wearing it.
“Thank you, my lord,” she said, forcing a small smile for him.
He returned it with a wider version. “What are you looking for in a protector?”
She swallowed. No one had asked her that question before. She thought on it a moment, then said, “Someone who would allow me independence.”
He arched a brow and his chuckle grated along her spine. “Independence. Well, most mistresses have a great deal of that, depending on the man. Are you saying independence in that you’d like independence to bring other men to your bed or independence in that you want your own home and funds?”
Her lips parted. Another man in her bed? Great Lord, she was nervous enough about one.
“The second, my lord,” she gasped out.
“And what are you willing todo”—he tugged her closer suddenly, his hand straying far too low on her back—“for your independence?”
She drew a breath to calm herself and said, “My lord, I—”
He turned her as she spoke and suddenly they spun directly into the very tall, very red-faced figure of Lucien. Lord Highbridge released her immediately and she staggered at the sudden sensation of being free.
“Stenfax,” Highbridge said. “Didn’t know you were here tonight.”
He shot an uneasy look in Elise’s direction and she blushed. Damn it, Lucien would ruin everything. Hewasruining everything, standing in the middle of the dancefloor, glowering at the man who had held her. Didn’t he know everyone would talk? In this room they would whisper, but this juicy bit of gossip might also filter wider into Society.
“I came to dance with Her Grace,” Stenfax said slowly, calmly despite his tense expression. “May I cut in?”
It was said as a question, but there was no mistaking it was an order. Highbridge knew it, as well, and turned toward Elise. “I hope we’ll speak again soon, Your Grace.”
She inclined her head with an apologetic expression. He backed away, and when he was gone, Stenfax grabbed her hand and spun her into the steps of the dance. He glared down at her, wordless.
She huffed out a breath. “What are you doing, Lucien?”
His anger felt like a pulse between them as he growled, “Highbridge is a bastard.”
She shook her head. “Yes, I had that sense, myself. But that isn’t really your concern, is it?”
The hand on her back tightened, drawing her closer. He leaned down and his face was dangerously close to hers. “Isn’t it?”
