Page 48 of Winning Her Duke

When he remained angry, she nudged him with her elbow.

“Don’t worry. I’m well aware of what they really want. As I’m sure it wouldn’t be five minutes before a tour of the gardens would find me in some shadowy corner being pawed at.”

His hands clenched into fists at the very idea of someone touching her in that manner. The hypocrisy was not lost on him. How many nights had he spent thinking of the very thing with his own cock in his grip? He was no better than these rakes that feigned interest in polite company when contriving to get under her skirts.

It was a testament to her intelligence that she had yet to fall for such trickery.

“You are wise to be weary of a dashing smile and valiant propositions.”

She frowned again and looked away.

“Of course. No one could actually be interested in more from me, Your Grace.”

He’d never heard the honorific said with such unhappiness. He caressed her arm with his thumb, cursing the blasted gloves that kept him from feeling her skin.

He wanted to believe his touch was his attempt to soothe her prickled feelings, but the way his body tightened betrayed the truth. He simply wanted to touch her.

Clearing his throat he pushed away all thoughts of her warm, soft skin and focused.

“I did not mean it that way. They should want more. You’re per—”

“If you’ll excuse me,” she cut him off. “The first of my fake suitors awaits.”

With that she stormed off to grab the lanky man’s arm and drag him to the dance floor.

She was well out of his hearing, but he finished what he’d been saying anyway.

“You, Gia Landon, are utterly perfect.”

*

Gia smiled at Lord Rhinehart, and he smiled back. His prominent Adam’s apple bobbed in his skinny throat. She didn’t need to look up to see him as he was nearly the same height as her. She couldn’t help but think of how she had to crane her neck to look at Hale.

This position was much easier on her posture.

Despite them being of the same height, she had noticed the man’s gaze dip lower on more than one occasion as they fumbled about the dance floor.

The memory of Hale’s lack of argument still burned in the back of her throat. That she was right to be cautious of anyone who would seek to be close to her. Because she had nothing to offer other than the possibility of physical pleasure. And upon finding that she wouldn’t part with her virtue so easily every man would quickly pass her over.

She was aware not all of that was said aloud, but it was the spirit of the conversation, and he hadn’t reassured her that perhaps some man might actually like her or want to marry her.

She knew why he might not be interested. But he assumed no man would want her. After all, she was not polished enough to run a home. She was not eloquent enough to host guests. She was not biddable enough to produce heirs on command. She was not perfect enough to be considered for the duty of wife.

But he was the one man who did know her and accepted the things about her she knew others found odd, but didn’t consider her suitable for marriage to someone else either.

She’d thought maybe if these men knew the real her, they would see her as more than just an object to be trifled with and might actually care for her. But Hale was evidence that was untrue. He knew her better than anyone.

“I’m afraid I don’t feel well,” she said to her dance partner.

His beady eyes flared.

“Perhaps some air would restore you. I would be honored to escort you outside. We could stroll the gardens,” he suggested.

She came down on his foot rather forcefully earning a satisfying yelp from Lord Rhinehart.

“Oh, dear. It appears you are unable to walk the distance to the gardens. I will leave you to tend to your injury.”

She headed toward Lydia and her father. “I must go.”