“Few would disagree, Your Grace. And I must say, you look divine in this gown. A duchess on the arm of a duke who may do as she pleases when she arrives at any event? There are plenty of ladies who would be absolutely green with envy.” He smiled at her, a little archly, and Isadora realized he was flirting with her. Both congratulating her on her new position in life and her freedom, and suggesting thathecould be the thing she did with her newfound freedom.
On the surface of it, flirting with him seemed like a fun and lighthearted way of spending the evening. He openly admired her—which was more than Nicholas had done when he had seen her in the gown he had paid for.
But somehow the thought of flirting with a gentleman who was not her husband did not appeal. Even so, she smiled up at him.
“You are too kind.”
“I only tell the truth as I see it.” His brown eyes glittered. “But if you are in the mood for other entertainments, I’m sure we can find something more to your liking.”
“It’s not that I need something more to my liking,” she explained, suddenly embarrassed. “More that this is my first ball after my marriage, and I would rather not—”
He squeezed her hand. “I understand. And with the way your new husband is glaring at me, perhaps it is safer for me if I beat a strategic retreat after this dance.”
“Oh,hecould not care less,” she waved a cavalier hand. How she wished he would, sometimes.
Lord Rupert cocked an eyebrow. “Is that so? I’m not entirely sure I agree with your assessment, Your Grace.”
“My lord—”
He chuckled hearteningly. “I am a man, and by the very virtue of belonging to the less-fairer sex, I have come to recognize the expression in another man’s eyes.”
Isadora’s brows drew together. “But—”
“If you seek my advice—and I understand if you may not—then you will dance with as many gentlemen as you can get your pretty gloves on tonight.” He shot her a teasing wink. “Show him the error of his ways.”
Isadora tilted her head, intrigued despite herself. “You think in this way, I can make him jealous?”
“Precisely. Do you doubt me? I would happily wager our next dance.”
“I should rather not…”
“Then merely allow me the satisfaction of being right,” he replied with a crooked grin. “Or do you doubt your conviction?”
Isadora didn’t think she could make him jealous, precisely—but then she recalled the look in his eyes when he had seen her with Mr. Windham’s letter on their wedding night. Perhaps he was not jealous, but hewaspossessive. He had not wanted her attention to be on another man whenhehad been the one to marry her.
Could the same concept apply here?
“Very well…” she said after a brief moment of musing. “Let’s see if you’re right after all.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Nicholas bit back his glower as he crossed the ballroom to speak with some vaguely familiar gentleman from his Eton days. Isadora had almost immediately found a group of willing admirers, and yet another of them was leading her out to the dance floor.
He gritted his teeth.
This was entirely his doing. In fact, it was what he had hoped for; he had taken a step back under the full understanding that someone else would take over that role. She was a beautiful woman and a duchess to boot—there were few men in the world who would not be at least passingly allured by the prospect of stealing her attention for a dance.
But the sourer fact was, she had given her attention—and rather willingly. No sooner had he left her company than she had dismissed him entirely.
Alsohis fault. Precisely what he had told himself he’d wanted. It wasn’t as though he hoped she would be miserable the rest of the night.
The next round of dances began, and he resigned himself to another full half hour of dull conversation and watching his wife dance with other men.
She laughed, gliding elegantly about the room, her cheeks flushed and her eyes sparkling. Every time they whispered something to her, she responded in kind, with spirit. Not flirtingprecisely, but very clearly enjoying their company.
Excusing himself, he went to get a drink. And then, because he couldn’t help himself, he leaned against the wall and watched Isadora’s progress. There was a hungry, possessive feeling in his chest, and he knew if he did not appease it somehow, it would rage larger and larger, until he could no longer control it.
With Grace, it had never been like this. He had wanted her,lovedher, but he had never felt the need to glare after her possessively as she mingled about a room filled with other gentlemen. When she’d received admiration, he had viewed it as belonging to him, in a way. Their marriage was so compromised that he had almost taken the credit for her achievements.
