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“You’re laughing at me.”

“I am absolutely laughing at you.” She let him spin her regardless, his hand curled around hers, his other resting on her waist and radiating a heat that seemed to bleed straight through the silk of her pale pink gown. “The great fearsome Duke of Duskwell, undone by a quadrille.”

“I have never claimed to be fearsome.” His dark eyes fixed on her with an intensity that made the rest of the ballroom fade away. “Only patient. There is a difference.”

“Patient for what?”

“I haven’t decided yet.” His hand tightened on her waist as the dance drew them closer, close enough that she could feel the warmth of his breath, close enough that the crowded room seemed to narrow even more, down to the small space between them. “You look remarkable tonight, Laura.”

“Remarkable?”

“Yes, remarkable. I don’t believe I’ve told you that.”

“You have not.” Her breath quickened, and she knew deep down that it had nothing to do with the dancing.

“I notice everything about you.” The words came low, unguarded, more honest than she suspected he had intended in the middle of a crowded ballroom. “It is the trouble I have found myself in.”

“We are in trouble, aren’t we?” she breathed.

“Do you like that?”

The music pulled them apart and back together before she could find an answer, and by the time the final note faded, her heart was beating far too fast for a dance that hadn’t been so demanding.

They had barely stepped off the dance floor when an elderly gentleman intercepted them, leaning heavily on a silver-topped cane, his eyes bright and shrewd beneath a shock of white hair. “Are you the Duke of Duskwell? Didn’t think I’d see you at one of these affairs again in my lifetime.”

“Lord Pembridge.” Nathaniel’s posture immediately relaxed. “I’d say the same of you, old chap.”

“Ha! I go where the brandy’s decent and the company tolerable, and you’ve improved the odds on both counts tonight.” Pembridge turned his sharp gaze on Laura and executed a surprisingly graceful bow for a man of his years. “Your Grace. I knew your husband’s father, God rest the old tyrant, and I knew Isabella too when she was no higher than my knee. Lovely girl. It does my heart good to see this one smiling again. He hasn’t done nearly enough of it the past three years.”

“Thank you so much, My Lord,” Laura said, her heart warmed by his words.

“Don’t thank me. Just keep at it, Your Grace.” Pembridge winked, entirely unrepentant, and shuffled off toward the back card room before either of them could answer.

They had barely taken a few steps when a young woman in pale yellow, clearly a debutante, skidded to a halt in front of them and dropped into a curtsy.

“Your Grace! Ah, Your Graces, I mean! Oh, forgive me, I only wished to say that I thought you danced very well.” She flushed scarlet the moment the words left her, as though she hadn’t quite meant to say them aloud.

“You’re very kind,” Laura said gently.

The girl gave a shy, grateful smile and fled back to her chaperone.

Nathaniel watched her go, his expression softening. “You have a talent for that.”

“For what?”

“Putting people at ease. I’ve never been able to do it in my life.” He said it lightly, but the truth lay beneath it.

How much of his reputation has simply grown around a man too guarded to correct it?

Nathaniel was pulled away not long after by Everett, who murmured something about Lord Alden being in the room that made his easy warmth fade back into careful alertness.

Laura was briefly left alone, so she went in search of Kitty rather than stand exposed to the ton’s watchful eyes.

Where are you, Kitty?

She found her friend by the terrace doors.

They’d barely resumed their earlier conversation when a cluster of familiar faces descended upon them, Lady Ashcombe at the head with two other matrons and a young lord Laura only vaguely recognized. They were all wearing the bright, avid interest of people who had been waiting all evening for precisely this opening.