He leaned in. “Perhaps not. But I’d best not find you dancing with someone else, then. Or else you’ll be walking home. In that dress, you won’t make it.”
He turned on his heel and left her standing there, well and truly caught by her circumstances. God, but she hated Ambrose. She had hated Toby, as well. The cousins were two of a kind, raised entitled and cruel.
She knew very well just how cruel.
“Your Grace?”
Elise turned to find a gentleman approaching her. He was handsome in his own way, though he had an almost baby face. Probably because he had to be at least five years younger than her own six and twenty. His face also seemed familiar and she froze as she realized he was someone she’d seen circulating at Vivien’s home.
“G-good evening,” she stammered, praying this man wasn’t about to out her. What a spectacle that would create. She’d never be able to leave her house again and what few acquaintances she might have left after this night would never speak to her after that.
He edged closer. “Forgive me for the forwardness, Your Grace. We have not been introduced.”
She drew a few calming breaths. “But you know who I am.”
“I do. You’re the Duchess of Kirkford. And I am Theodore Winstead.”
“The Viscount Winstead’s youngest?” she asked, finding the information about his identity in the long list of names her mind somehow found space for.
He smiled. “That is me.”
“A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Winstead,” she said.
“The pleasure is all mine, I assure you, Your Grace.” He shifted as if uncomfortable, and she saw how his gaze flitted to her cleavage, so heavily on display. She blushed even though this gown was meant exactly for that purpose.
Just not for here.
“Would you like to dance?” he asked.
She stiffened. To dance with him would only cause more consternation and possibly a great deal of trouble with Ambrose. So she shook her head. “I may not look it, but I’m still considered in mourning,” she said, ducking her head in embarrassment. “It wouldn’t be right.”
He nodded slowly. “Then what about a turn around the terrace?”
She lifted her gaze to him. He did look very interested and there was nothing unkind about his face or his eyes. “Very well. It might be nice to escape the stifling warmth of this room.”
He extended an arm and she took it, letting him lead her from the room. Outside a few couples and groups were gathered and most of them turned as the pair exited. Elise stiffened as the whispers from inside extended to the terrace.
A few shot her glares, then returned to the ballroom like she had a disease they might all catch. She released Mr. Winstead’s arm and walked to the edge of the stone terrace.
“I have seen you before,” Winstead said, coming up to lean against the terrace beside her. “I think you know where.”
She refused to look at him as she gripped her fist against the scratchy stone. “I do. I’ve seen you there, as well. But you’ve never approached me. Why do it tonight when I’m a pariah?”
“You’re popular at Vivien’s,” he explained. “And…”
He trailed off, and now she did turn toward him. “And?”
“And Lord Stenfax has seemed protective and interested. He isn’t the kind of man one thwarts easily.”
“You have no idea,” Elise murmured as she looked once again at the dark garden below. “But you have the wrong notion. He is not interested. You saw him stalk past me without even a look tonight.”
The young man nodded. “Yes, that action gave me the bravery to approach you at last.”
Elise looked at him again. She felt nothing when she did so, not even a flutter of desire or interest. Yet she knew the Winstead family had money. This young man likely had means to keep a mistress if he wanted her. And there wasn’t anythingunattractiveabout him, exactly. He just wasn’t…
Stenfax.
She frowned and drew a few long breaths, wishing she could press those thoughts of Lucien from her mind forever. Wishing she could make all her memories go away and start fresh.
