“Not fear,” Wexley said hastily, glancing over his shoulder. “Respect.”
“What kind of respect?” she asked.
Wexley gave a nervous chuckle. “A baron does not simply deny the wishes of a duke, Lady April.”
“And if he does?”
Wexley’s chuckle dried in his throat. “I would not like to find out,” he muttered.
So, the Duke might be a bully after all. How lovely.Her mind spun back to his grim promise.I do not plan on having to look for another bride.
Would he truly let her go if she refused? Or would he employ other means to convince her? Perhaps use August, family obligation, duty, or other invisible chains that polite society so loved to wield?
A shiver danced down her spine.
“Are you cold, Lady April?” Wexley asked eagerly, already half-turned to summon a footman. “Shall I order for a shawl to be brought for you?”
She forced another brilliant smile. “Thank you, My Lord, but I am quite well.”
Before Wexley could offer some fresh inanity, a hush swept over the ballroom. April’s gaze snapped to the entrance.
There he stood, the Duke of Stone, his dark evening kit absorbing the light, making him seem taller, broader, and more terrifyingly real than she remembered. His deep blue eyes roamed the room with chilling seriousness.
He looks as if he could command an army with a single glance,April thought, her heart hammering.
“That’s the Duke of Stone,” someone whispered behind her, awe thick in their voice.
“I heard he once refused an invitation from the Prince Regent himself,” another added in a hushed tone.
“And didn’t he duel a marquess over a card game?” a third voice chimed in.
“They say he has never lost anything. Not a duel, not a wager, not even a race at Epsom,” murmured another lady.
“He could marry anyone he wished,” someone sighed, “yet he speaks to no one unless he must.”
April listened, her heart tripping over itself, as the whispers swirled around her like the lift of a rising storm. Then the Duke’s gaze found her, and for a moment, the noise and glitter blurred to nothing.
Then his gaze shifted to Wexley. The Duke’s already-imposing expression darkened further. Wexley paled, his mouth opening and closing like a fish gasping for air.
He gave a jerky, graceless bow, nearly stumbling over his own feet. “Lady April, er… I… forgive me… Enjoy your evening!” he managed to splutter, voice cracking with the effort. Withoutwaiting for a response, he turned and fled toward the punch table, knocking into a footman and muttering apologies as he went, his dignity leaking away with every step.
April scarcely had time to comprehend any of it before she realized the Duke was moving toward her.
Several ambitious young ladies flitted into his path like moths to a flame. April, seized by sudden panic, turned and plunged deeper into the crowd. She nearly collided with May and June, who latched onto her like hunting dogs scenting scandal.
“Is he following you?” May whispered, barely containing her excitement.
“I think he is,” June said, smirking. “He’s ignoring all the others—look at him!”
April risked a glance.
Sure enough, the Duke was cutting a merciless path through the throng, offering clipped nods, brushing aside flirtatious glances with barely a glance.
Heavens above,April thought, panic fluttering.Why does it feel like he’s hunting me?
April, caught between panic and delight, darted deeper into the crowd with May and June clinging to her.
“You must tell us,” May insisted breathlessly, her green eyes sparkling. “Why is he following you?”
