Page 131 of The Dueling Duchess

When they walked into the room, Cecile didn’t see Guy at first because he was sitting in the high wing-back chair facing Helen and Cat, who were looking toward the door.

Cat’s eyes grew flatteringly round. “Oh,” was all she was able to manage.

“You both look so beautiful,” Helen said, her normally reserved face breaking into a big smile, her eyes glowing with admiration.

Guy rose from his chair, shoulders impossibly broad in his exquisitely fitted evening blacks.

And there he was, the Darling of the Ton, standing in Cecile’s humble book room.

The phrase he looked like a god was something she’d read dozens of times over the years. But what else could you say about the physical embodiment of masculine perfection?

His full lips parted and his eyes moved over her in a way that was so intimate and caressing she actually blushed.

He opened his mouth, but then shut it again and swallowed, his big hands squeezing something he was holding.

The silence stretched and Guy showed no sign of breaking either it or his stare.

“Are you ready?” Cecile finally asked, jolting him from his fugue.

His face darkened as he realized his lapse and quickly turned to Blade. “Lord. You look like an angel.”

Blade gave a low chuckle. “That seems to be the consensus.”

Guy’s eyes moved to the pearls at Blade’s throat. “That is quite an impressive set of pearls.”

Blade’s hand moved to the necklace, and she stroked the glowing gems absently, as if she’d forgotten about them. “Thank you.”

Guy looked around. “Where’s Angus?” He pulled a face. “Oh no! Don’t tell me that he didn’t get his invitation?”

Cat giggled and even Blade smiled at his teasing.

“A ballroom wouldn’t be a good place for him.”

Guy winced. “Indeed, no—all those jewels to tempt him. Speaking of which—” He turned to Cecile, his expression one she’d never seen before—tentative. “This is for you.” He held out a lovely old marquetry box.

“What is it?” she asked, not reaching for it.

His smile was strained. “You need to open it to find out.”

“But why—”

Blade nudged her in the ribs, hard.

Cecile reached for the box. “Thank you.”

He nodded and she looked down, almost afraid to open it.

“Oh, my goodness,” Blade whispered when Cecile lifted the lid.

Cecile wished she had even that many words. It was a gold and diamond necklace—and there was no denying the stones were real, not paste—along with earbobs and a bracelet.

“My grandmother said there had once been a girdle and tiara, but they were broken up before her time,” Guy said when Cecile could only stare.

She wrenched her eyes away from the glittering gift. “I can’t—”

“Don’t,” he said, the single word heavy with suppressed emotion. “Please. It is a gift—contingent on nothing. It is a sign of my regard for you.”

Cecile wanted to argue—it was simply too much—but she could see by the guarded look in his eyes that her rejection would be one too many after the long line of refusals these past weeks and months.