Isabella blinked. How long had she been woolgathering? “Forgive me,” she said, “my thoughts were elsewhere.”
“I don’t suppose you’d be willing to share them with me?” The smile he gave her as he spoke was of the more crooked variety, dimpling his cheeks in a way that made him look terribly roguish.
For just about the millionth time since making his acquaintance only ten minutes earlier, Isabella felt her heart flutter in her chest.
Troublewas the word that came to mind.
She knew that whatever dreams she dared entertain of a man like Kingsborough courting her would remain exactly that—a dream. As regrettable as it was, she would have to be honest if she wished to avoid heartache, or at least as honest as she could be under the circumstances. “Actually, I was wondering what my fiancé would say if he were to discover that I danced with a dashing duke this evening.” There, she’d told him about Mr. Roberts and would now be able to enjoy the rest of the evening with a clear conscience and without worrying that the duke might show more interest in her than he already had. He would do the honorable thing and walk away—she was certain of this.
But the dance had not yet ended, and rather than let her go, the duke tightened his hold on her and frowned. “Fiancé?”
“Yes.” The tone of his voice did not fill her with the confidence she’d hoped for but rather with despair. “I thought it best to inform you that I am practically engaged to a very respectable gentleman—an entrepreneur, to be exact.”
The crooked smile returned to Kingsborough’s lips. “ ‘Practically’?” Isabella had recognized her error the instant she’d spoken, but it was too late for her to take that one word back now. “Then you’re really not engaged at all, are you?”
Swallowing hard, she tried to think of something else to say that might deter him. She could of course tell him the absolute truth about her identity. She’d surely find herself escorted off the premises without further ado, but at least it would save her from the risk of getting to know the duke further, from becoming more fascinated than she already was and, most importantly, from the prospect of falling in love with a man she could never, ever hope to marry.
It was the wise thing to do, and yet she found herself doing quite the opposite. “I suppose not—not yet, that is.” Oh, how she wished she could give herself a good whack. Was she a complete idiot? And the way it sounded to her own ears ... good heavens, but Kingsborough would have every right to think she was flirting with him. It was likely her most embarrassing moment to date.
The duke raised an eyebrow as the music faded and they glided to a stop. “Not yet,” he murmured, his smile turning into something of a wolfish grin. Was he laughing at her or pondering the thought of devouring her whole? Neither prospect was in the least bit reassuring.
Dropping a curtsy in response to his bow, Isabella accepted the arm he offered her and allowed him to lead her off to the side. She was desperately wracking her brain for an excuse to escape his company and had just considered telling him she needed to visit the ladies’ retirement room when he leaned a bit closer to her and said, “It’s a lovely evening outside. Would you care to join me for a stroll on the terrace?”
Isabella knew she ought to refuse, make her excuse and leave his company immediately. There was just one massive flaw to her plan—the lack of will to do so as he stood there, gazing into her eyes and waiting for her response as if the stability of the planet hinged on her agreement. If only he knew that her agreement might actually cause it to fall off its axis.
Taking a deep breath, she decided to ignore her better judgment and do what she wanted to do instead—however temporary it might be and however much she might regret it later. This was her chance to experience the fairy-tale magic she’d wanted for so long, and with the Duke of Kingsborough unwittingly playing the part of her own Prince Charming. “Yes,” she said, her stomach working itself into a tight knot in response to the look of pleasure that swept over his handsome face. “I would like that very much.”
And as he guided her out of the ballroom to the drone of music and laughter, Isabella couldn’t help but imagine that it was the sound of the fates mocking her.
Chapter 5
It was warmer than usual for that time of year, and with not even as much as a breeze to speak of, it was downright pleasant being outside—especially when compared to the stifling heat of the ballroom. In fact, Anthony had to admit that his cravat and his jacket didn’t bother him nearly as much now as they had earlier. He eyed his companion, realizing that she might have been finding it chillier than he, what with her flimsy evening gown and no shawl to speak of. “If it’s too cold for you... ,” he began, but he stopped when she shook her head.
“Not at all—it’s quite a relief actually.” She nodded toward the ballroom. “As spectacular as it is in there, I’m happy to be able to get a bit of fresh air.”
“All the same, I do hope you’ll let me know as soon as you wish to venture back inside.”
She smiled brightly and Anthony felt his spirits soar. “I shall do so without hesitation,” she promised. “You have my word on it.”
It was Anthony’s turn to smile as he turned toward the far end of the terrace and began leading her forward at a leisurely pace.
Who was this woman he was talking to, and what was it about her exactly that captivated him so? He pondered the question for a moment, but, truth was, he had no idea. What hedidknow, however, was who she wasn’t. She was not Miss Smith—or at least he didn’t believe her to be—and she did not herald from a town by the name of Flemmington. He could easily drive himself mad speculating about the matter for the remainder of the evening, but he decided to opt for a much easier solution instead.
Anthony stopped in his tracks, bringing her to a standstill as well. He turned his head just enough to gaze down at her. “Tell me, Miss Smith, who are you really?”
He’d never seen anyone pale so quickly before. “It’s quite all right—there’s no need for alarm,” he felt compelled to say for fear that she might actually collapse in a dead faint. “It’s just that there was nobody on the guest list by the name of Smith, and with Flemmington being a fictitious location conjured by my brother’s overactive imagination, the fact that you readily agreed that this was where you were from only suggests that you’ve no desire for anyone to know your true identity. Am I correct?”
She stared back at him for what must surely have been a full minute before her mouth eventually closed. She looked up at him from beneath her long lashes and gave an ever so slight, almost imperceptible nod. “What will you do?” she asked.
“I shan’t have you evicted,” he said, realizing from her heavy sigh of relief that this was what she’d feared most. “After all, with your attire taken into consideration, you must at the very least be gentry—no lowborn person would ever be able to afford such a costly garment.”
“I ... er ... ah ...”
“Oh, I see,” he continued, feeling the urge to tease her a little with the hopeful prospect of easing the tension that had descended upon them. “You are a noblewoman’s stepdaughter, locked away for countless years and forced to tend to your stepsisters’ every demand. But when you heard of the Kingsborough Ball, you stole one of their gowns and snuck away to attend. Am I right?”
“Right enough,” she whispered, smiling just enough to encourage him to continue.
Anthony felt his heart quicken. He wasn’t sure why, but her willingness to play along with this game sparked his interest in her even more. Of course he wondered who she really was—it was impossible for him not to—but for some curious reason, it didn’t seem like the most important thing at the moment. Especially not if she had her own personal reasons for keeping her identity secret. After all, she had mentioned analmostfiancé. What if she simply didn’t want the man to discover she’d come to the ball? It was a possibility.
