Her mother was still busy talking, Thomas was absent—as far as she could see—and there was nowhere that she could hide from the Duke.
Would he come after her? She didn’t intend to stay to find out. She moved to the opposite side of the ballroom and placed herself beside a large vase with overhanging ferns. From there, she could see much of what happened in the ballroom without being discovered herself.
Just as she was congratulating herself on having made a successful escape, however, there was movement beside her.
“Lady Sybil,” the Duke said. “You have chosen an interesting place to stand.”
She gritted her teeth. Did he not understand signals? It hadn’t been so much a hint as a messenger pigeon stating her intention.
She didnotwant to speak to him.
“I can watch the ball well from here,” she said.
“You can, I suppose, but why should a beauty such as you be hiding when you could be dancing?”
“I don’t dance.” A lie, mostly, because she loved to dance. Of all the things that were expected from young ladies in Society, dancing was her favorite.
Unfortunately, whenever she danced, she attracted a lot of unwanted attention.
“Do you not? I would be delighted to educate you, in that case.”
She whirled, meeting his amused gaze with fire in her own. “I do not requireeducating, Your Grace.”
“Perhaps not, but I rarely speak to a lady for this long without asking her to dance.” His lips curved into an insufferable smile. “And I have yet to have my hand rejected.”
Sybil itched to reject him. But his presence beside her brought both of them into the eye of the ballroom, and she could sense attention on her.
“Allow me to introduce myself,” he said, though there was a mocking note in his voice. The only person close enough to hear them was a Dowager Countess, and Sybil suspected she was deaf, but that didn’t give her much comfort. “My name is George Hansen, the Duke of Danver.”
“I know who you are, Your Grace,” she said. He merely raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to play along with this foolish game, even though they had been formally introduced at his Manor, and she sighed. “Very well. I am Lady Sybil Wilson.”
“A pleasure, My Lady.” He took her hand and bowed over it. “Would you do me the honor of a dance?”
She gritted her teeth, grinding them together loud enough that she was certain he must have been able to hear, but there was no way of rebuffing him. “If you wish to, Your Grace.”
“I have every wish to.” With a flourish, he wrote his name on the card around her wrist, and if he made note of the fact that his was the first and only name, he made no mention of it.
“You put your name down for the waltz,” she said when she had an opportunity to look at his writing—which was irritatingly excellent. Could the man not have one flaw?
He smiled at her, his expression momentarily wolfish. “I have every anticipation of enjoying myself.” He gave her a slight bow and left her to thoughts of escape and murder.
If she killed him now, she wouldn’t have to dance with him. But, she suspected, the repercussions of killing a Duke would be far greater than merely marrying him. Not that he would ever ask her to marry him.Thatwas not why he had shown her such pointed attention.
She just… didn’t know preciselywhyhe had. And what he was planning next.
ChapterTen
It didn’t escape George’s attention that his partner seemed rather more reluctant to dance with him than he would have liked. Usually, the young ladies he graced with his attention were either coy or enthusiastic. They were neverreluctant.
He would have to show her precisely what dancing with him entailed. And a waltz. It would shock the older contingent, of course, that a waltz was even being danced, considering it was not yet accepted at Almack’s, but he had every intention of making the most of it.
As he waited, he paced around the edges of the ballroom, noting that Sybil didn’t dance with any other gentlemen. He was careful not to pay her too much attention, or be seen to overtly look for her, but when he crossed the room to claim her hand for the waltz, he knew that whispers followed him.
If only they could have been alone. But he doubted he could get her alone, and doubted still more that she would stay with him. There was mingled defiance and fear in her gaze as she accepted his hand and allowed him to bring her close.
She smelled divine, like mint and lavender. It clung to her hair and reminded him of how she had tasted when he’d licked her. If he was not careful, he would find it difficult to dance.
“Your Grace,” she said, her tone remote.
