The man flirted as naturally as breathing and possessed absolutely no sense of restraint when something amused him. Worse still, Victor knew exactly the sort of charming nonsense Morgan likely whispered into Charlotte’s ear at this very moment. His friend had probably already composed three terrible poems about her eyes and invited her somewhere scandalous before the second turn of the dance.
A dangerous heat spread through Victor’s chest.
Morgan is a rake. A notorious one. And Charlotte, God help her, looks entirely entertained by him.
She was not truly his fiancée, merely a woman participating in a necessary arrangement for his grandmother’s comfort. Victor had no claim upon her beyond that agreement, and yet every smile she gave another gentleman scraped against his nerves like sandpaper. He despised the sensation instantly because it felt far too close to jealousy.
Victor began crossing the ballroom before he fully realized he had decided to move. Couples parted instinctively at the sight of the Duke of Mulford striding across the floor with murder practically written upon his face. He barely noticed the curious glances surrounding him as he reached Morgan and Charlotte mid-dance.
Without hesitation, Victor stepped directly between them.
“May I have my fiancée back, Morgan?”
Charlotte blinked up at him in surprise while Morgan merely raised a brow lazily.
“Oh,” Morgan drawled, “now she is your fiancée, is she?” He looked positively delighted by the situation. “Interesting development.”
Victor’s expression hardened. “Do not test my patience.”
Morgan looked toward Charlotte innocently. “We were enjoying ourselves, were we not, Charlotte?”
Victor did not allow her time to answer. He took Charlotte’s hand firmly into his own and pulled her smoothly toward himself. “That will be all, Morgan.”
His friend’s eyes gleamed with wicked amusement. “Should I feel threatened?”
“I suggest you walk away before you suffer humiliation.”
Charlotte stared between them in disbelief. “Good heavens, are the two of you about to duel over a dance?”
Morgan burst into laughter. “I like her more every minute.”
Victor shot him a cold look that only seemed to amuse Morgan further.
With exaggerated elegance, Morgan bowed deeply before them both. “Very well then. I surrender Miss Brown back into your terrifying custody.”
“You are intolerable,” Victor muttered.
“Yes, but charmingly so,” he said.
Then Morgan finally retreated into the crowd, still grinning like a man who had just set fire to something for entertainment.
Victor immediately drew Charlotte back into the dance before society could openly gawp at the interruption any longer. His hand settled firmly at her waist while her gloved fingers rested against his shoulder. Even through layers of fabric, he felt painfully aware of her warmth.
Charlotte narrowed her eyes at him. “What was that about, Your Grace?”
He matched her look coolly. “I should ask you the same question.”
“What does that mean?” Her eyes narrowed with suspicion.
Victor guided her sharply through a turn. “I saw the way you smiled at him.”
Charlotte blinked. “What a horrifying crime.”
“You blushed,” he said, which came out more as an accusation than an observation.
“He made me laugh,” she said. “He is amusing.”
Victor’s jaw clenched further. “You encouraged him, then?”
