Her hand moved before she fully thought it through, and she placed it in his.
His fingers closed around hers, and the contact struck too clearly. He held her with grave steadiness, turning her hand just enough that the lamplight caught the pale satin of her skin and the stone together, then slid the ring onto her finger.
The diamond settled at the base of her finger.
A tremor moved through her.
It was not the ring itself, though it was beautiful enough to make any lady’s pulse jump. It was the public finality of it. The fact that everyone saw. The fact that this was no longer a rumor walking on uncertain legs through drawing rooms and morning calls. It was before them now, glittering on her hand, fixed by his touch.
He released her, and she felt the absence of his warmth immediately.
The Duke bowed slightly. “Dance with me.”
Her heart stumbled.
She could still feel the pressure of his hand on hers, still feel the weight of the ring he had placed there, and something in her had not settled since. Against all reason, his invitation felt less like courtesy and more like being chosen in full view of everyone.
She gave a small nod. “Yes.”
He took her hand again and led her to the floor.
The first moment he set his hand at her waist, she understood that this would be worse than the ring. He touched her properly,as any gentleman would, and yet there was nothing proper in the effect of it.
His palm was a brand against her waist. The heat of it seeped through her dress, grounding her even as it sent a chaotic shiver straight to her marrow. The room vanished, leaving only the hard line of his arm and his dizzying heat.
She laid her hand in his and they moved.
The ballroom passed around them in a blur of candlelight, silk, and music, while his hand remained at her waist with maddening steadiness. He danced well, with the same contained precision he brought to everything else, and that only made her heart beat harder.
She could no longer bear the silence.
“How is Aaron?” she asked.
His expression did not change, but she saw a subtle withdrawal behind the eyes. “He is well.”
The answer was too brief, too smooth, and she knew it at once.
“Is he?” she asked.
His gaze settled on her more fully. “You have taken your role rather seriously, Lady Emmeline.”
There was an unmistakable edge in it.
“If I am to be your wife,” she said, keeping her voice just as even, “I ought to understand the child who will be entrusted to me.”
“You need not concern yourself with one difficult dinner.”
“It was not the dinner that concerned me.”
His jaw clenched. “No?”
The music turned them. Other couples passed close and then away again.
“He was hurt,” she said more softly. “And you knew it.”
The Duke’s hand at her waist tightened. “Must we revisit this here?”
“If not here, then when?”
