The other three gentlemen in their circle, whose titles Constantine could not be bothered to remember, laughed and chortled at the sharp barb as Prescott turned a deep red and forced a smile.
Serves him right for peppering me with questions.
“Oh, good heavens, there she is,” the gentleman to Constantine’s left sighed, changing the subject.
“Who?” another asked, his eyes following the first man’s gaze.
“Lady Elara Mason,” the third gentleman said, his tone full of awe as he joined the other two in gawking.
Constantine’s eyes followed theirs before he could help it, and he felt a stir of heat the moment he saw her. Unlike the night they had first confronted one another, Lady Elara now looked like the perfect young lady for society.
Her raven curls were neatly pulled up with diamond pins rather than loose around her shoulders and chest. Her teal dress complemented her fair skin beautifully, and the empire waist gave her an approachable, gentle look, unlike the crimson gown that clung to her like a seductive dream.
Such a pity that such a beautiful woman wishes to be so problematic,he thought, letting his eyes wander over the small expanse of bare flesh at the nape of her neck.
He thought back to the night they met, to when she had accused him of having something to do with Evander’s disappearance. Her words were greatly offensive, but he had to admit that he was impressed by her dedication to her family. It was a trait he shared with her.
However, Elarawasmistaken, which was why he had chosen to attend the ball. Despite how much she had angered him at his party, he needed her to know that he had nothing to do with Evander’s death.
Constantine left the group without another word, his eyes locked on her even after she turned her back to him and grabbed a glass of champagne from a footman.
“Are you certain it is a good idea to drink spirits so quickly?” he leaned down and whispered into her ear.
Pleasure surged through him as he watched every little hair on the back of her neck stand up at the sound of his voice, emboldening him to speak again.
“I would rather think you would want to keep your wits about you. Since you so obviously fooled your brother into sending me an invitation.”
Constantine had been sure that it was the boldness of her crimson costume that had made Elara’s eyes glow so very blue the night of his ball. However, as she spun around to face him, he realized he had been wrong.
Very wrong. Perhaps about everything, including my coming here,he thought to himself as he stared into those deep, ice-blue depths of Elara’s eyes.
Several tense seconds passed as he waited for her to break her stunned silence and speak.
“What is the matter?” he mused when she still said nothing. He raised a curious brow as he looked her up and down. “Disappointed?”
Elara’s widened look of surprise finally shifted to one of cool observance, and she lifted her right shoulder in a single shrug.
“With you, Your Grace? I fear there is always an air of disappointment,” she replied coolly.
Constantine smirked despite his annoyance at her barb. However, amusement soon coursed through his veins as Elara, so very casually, tried to take a sip of her champagne, only to find it empty. She even shook the glass, which made him chuckle. When she blushed at her mistake, he felt absolutely delighted.
Reaching for her, he caught the dance card dangling from her wrist.
“What are you doing?” Elara whispered, trying to pull her wrist away.
Constantine shot her a look, tsked his tongue, and tightened his grip. She stopped fighting him, but the look of annoyance on her face was downright adorable.
“Since you do not wish to speak to me, I must assume you asked me here to dance,” he mused, penciling his name on her card.
“Idowant to speak with you,” Elara whispered vehemently. “It just cannot be here, in front of everyone.”
“Well, you should have said that earlier,” Constantine sighed, his tone dripping with sarcasm. He dropped her card and the tiny pencil as he straightened. “Now we must honor your dance card.”
He raised a brow, as if daring her to make her next move. He was rewarded with another glare from her, one he had to admit made her pert nose wrinkle and her sculpted cheeks flush so beautifully.
“Oh, do my old eyes deceive me, or do I see the young Duke of Ashworth?”
Constantine snapped out of his confounding reverie at once when he heard the voice of Evander’s mother. He turned to face her and felt a little out of his depth as the Dowager Duchess wrapped her arms around his shoulders, just as she had done so very long ago when he and Evander were boys, and hugged him tightly. Constantine could not help the well of emotion that rose in him. He might have issues with her children, but Constantine could never act coldly toward their mother.
