Finishing the bun, she dusted the crumbs from her fingers. “Why not both? We can make whatever connections you want while sipping champagne and dancing the waltz.”
“God no,” he grunted.
“W-why not?” Ellie spluttered.
In a breath, he had her face in a firm grip. “I said no.”
“And I say yes,” she narrowed her eyes, “I want to dance.”
“God’s blood, you test me—” His mouth came down on hers in seconds, her lips parted naturally beneath his.
Dorian’s tongue thrusted boldly, and she responded almost immediately as a molten wave washed over her. She moaned, and the kiss tangled, growing hotter and hotter; he kissed her as if she belonged to him, licking, tasting, staking his claim.
His masculine touch sent a quiver all the way down to her toes. No one had ever given her this sensation of sweeping her knees out from under her, even while she was seated.
Dash it; what was this effect Dorian had on her? Was he versed in mesmerism? It would be fitting for a villain.
When he did pull away and she took a moment—many moments—to regain her breath and her sensibilities, Ellie shook her head.
“Your tricks are wasted on me,” she declared. She’d read enough novels to know how a heroine ought to react. “I will not be moved from my stance.”
A muscle jumped in his jaw. “You are a stubborn one.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” she smirked. “Now, tell me why you are so adamant about not dancing.”
He rolled his eyes before retreating to the table again. Crossing his legs, he confessed, “I was ousted from formal life,normal life, when I was thirteen, when my uncle kicked me and my father out of our rightful home. I was expelled from Eton, I never attended Oxford or Cambridge as I’d wanted.
“It was not until I was twenty years old that I was able to hire tutors to teach me everything I was denied growing up. I did not attend Oxford formally, but I know law as a judge does and business and trade as a businessman does.”
Ellie’s heart sank at the hollow tones in his voice, and a part of her wanted to reach out through time to hug the young boy Dorian had once been.
“Are you afraid that you won’t be able to match conversation with the spoiled lord? The ones who have titles but do nothing with them?” she asked.
He laughed, shoulders shaking while he rubbed his face. “Good god, no. I will verbally skewer those toffs and dandies. That is not my issue.”
She stood this time and crossed the room to rest her hands on his arms. “Then what is?”
Lifting his head, Dorian let out a breath. “In my pursuit to acquire the education I missed, I failed to learn one key aspect of peer life. I do not know how to dance, Evelina. I cannot waltz to save my life. There, that is why I am objecting. Do you want to cross the room with a bumbling buffoon?”
CHAPTER 14
The hint of insecurity Dorian showed her in that moment made Ellie’s heart warm; it was clear underneath his hardened façade, he still carried the hurts and diffidence of his past with him.
“The waltz is not so difficult to learn,” she said softly. “I can teach you.”
Tilting his head, Dorian’s eyes coasted over her face, the graze almost as tangible as touch. His gaze was pinning and all-encompassing, somehow seeing right through her, but seeing her as well.
“When?” he asked. “Now?”
“Whenever you want,” Ellie shrugged. “Though it is late, and I assume you would want to sleep.”
His gaze drifted to the window. “I have gone through longer nights than this. As a matter of fact, I have spent three days awake, spying on a competitor for Sterling.”
Her heart ached at the naked misery of his tone. He’d had an unfortunate past, that was true, but against all odds, he regrouped and made something of himself—he’d become a gentleman of character.
“You don’t owe me a thing, Evelina,” he murmured.
“We are married now,” she said. “It is only fair—” she turned and looked around the room, “— because I will be transforming this place into something fitting for a duchess.”
