As Cortland studied Lady Genevieve, he wondered what she was thinking. She looked so upset, dare he consider almost melancholy, that he had the sudden urge to draw her into his arms and comfort her. Not only that, but with the moon shining on her curls, turning them into a golden halo around her head, and the gentle curve of her face looking as soft as silk, he had to clench his fist to resist reaching out and running a fingertip along her delicate jawline.
He desperately searched for something to say, anything that would remove these dangerous thoughts from his mind and remind him that she was a ruthless female, intent on ruining the lives of men everywhere. But when he spoke, the first thing that popped into his head sounded quite ridiculous. “How did you get the nickname Vivy?”
She turned to face him, and he was struck by the brilliance of her hazel eyes yet again.
Cranbrook, he reminded himself sternly. They are the same.
And yet…
There was a particular, feminine spark in her gaze that his mentor, her grandfather, lacked.
“There’s nothing special about it, if that’s what you’re asking. It’s merely a shortened version of Genevieve. Why?”
“I just wondered.” He shrugged and slowly moved forward until he’d joined her at the railing. Leaning against the stone, he relaxed his hands on the top and regarded her steadily. “It doesn’t suit you.”
The line between her brows deepened into a frown. For some reason, he found it utterly charming. “How would you know what suits me? You don’t know me.”
His gaze roamed over her face. “Oh, I think I know more about you than you might think. I know that you dream of adventure, otherwise, why would you sneak a peek at your grandfather’s invitation and show up at my Erotic-o-rama?” He paused, giving her time for a rebuttal, but when she said nothing, he continued. “I know that you are strong and courageous, because when Lady Arietta collapsed from sheer fright, you didn’t bat an eyelash and fall into hysterics like most would have. And I also know that instead of blushing and running out of the house that night, you were actually intrigued by what you saw.”
“That’s not true! I was horrified.”
Cortland heard her claim to the contrary, but when she turned her head, refusing to meet his eyes, he knew she was lying. If that wasn’t enough to prove it, her breathing had altered. “I don’t believe you,” he challenged.
She whipped her head back around to him. “You can speculate all you want, Your Grace, but I grow weary of your arrogant assumptions. I think I shall return to the ball.”
He caught her arm and whispered in her ear, “I can introduce you to the carnal world you only glimpsed. All you have to do is say yes.”
For an instant, Cortland thought he had convinced her to give in to him, but even though they were so close, enough that it wouldn’t have taken much effort at all to kiss her thoroughly, until she was crying out his name, he wanted her to be the one to approach him.
“Good evening, Your Grace.”
She pulled her arm free and stalked away from him.
Chapter 5
For the remainder of the evening, Genevieve couldn’t rid herself of the duke’s touch, or the shiver that came over her whenever she recalled his dark promise.
All you have to do is say yes…
She opened her fan and waved it in front of her face. No doubt she was flushed greatly and had all the appeal of a cooked lobster as she meandered around the perimeter of the ballroom. She had danced, of course, because she was the granddaughter of a duke, the daughter of a marquess, and the sister of an earl. She never lacked for partners because her presence was never ignored. Except by one man.
Until the fateful night she’d dared to risk her reputation and the threat of scandal. But now that she had his attention, it wasn’t what she’d been expecting. She had imagined he would trail her about like a willing puppy, eager for a morsel of her attention, thus keeping her in control. Instead, Argyle was a man like no other. He was virile and bold, determined to get what he wanted. The problem was that Genevieve wouldn’t be able to control a man like that. He would absorb everything that she was until she was the one following after him, desperate for a crumb of his affections. Because once she gave him what he wanted, it might be perfect for a time, but it would never last.
Even though he had offered marriage to her, it would have to be built on something more than lust. There would have to be a mutual respect, and right now, that was sadly lacking. Neither of them trusted the other. It would have to be earned, and until she could be assured that there was something that could withstand a firm relationship, she would have to keep her distance, no matter how much she might be tempted otherwise.
She walked over to the refreshment table and accepted a glass of Madeira from the footman. She needed something that would calm her nerves, because every time she caught Argyle’s silhouette in the room, those eyes were boring into her.
She downed the wine in one, fortifying gulp.
“Take it easy, there.” She jerked when someone spoke at her elbow, but her nerves quickly eased when she saw the Earl of Uxbridge. He gestured to the empty glass in her hand. “That has a way of sneaking up on you unaware. You wouldn’t want to give anyone the opportunity to take advantage of you when you weren’t in possession of all of your wits.”
Genevieve wondered if that was a warning about the duke. She knew that they tended to frequent the same circles, as well as the same club. “Thank you for the cautionary, my lord.”
As the sounds of a quadrille came to a close, he asked, “Is your dance card empty? I wondered if I might request the next set.”
She blinked, but then recalled the small square hanging from her wrist. The next dance was a waltz. “It appears I’m free. It’s all yours, Lord Uxbridge.” She held up her arm, and he scratched his name in the blank. As he did so, she tried to imagine herself with him instead. He was quite appealing with his brown hair and sharp green eyes. He was even taller than Argyle. She actually had to recline her head to look up at him, whereas she stood nearly eye to eye with the duke. However, she had always known she wasn’t petite, but more of a willowy frame.
As the musicians tuned their instruments, he held his arm out to her and she accepted the offering. When they took to the floor, she didn’t dare seek out the duke, even to offer him a smug expression, but something told her he was lurking somewhere in the crowd. She could feel the fine hairs on the back of her neck tingle in awareness.
