There was hurt in his voice, and she reached a hand to him and touched his. It was not an intimate gesture, but one of comfort. Silent comfort, because she didn’t have the words to explain she understood. Plenty of people didn’t believe her mother deserved to be a Countess or Marchioness, and that Sybil didn’t deserve to be a lady.
He glanced down at the contact, and his lips twitched into a smile that was neither mocking nor bitter. “Yes,” he said, “you understand.” He raised her hand to his mouth and kissed it, his lips lingering on her knuckles longer than necessary. Sybil’s breath caught in her throat.
He was a handsome man, but that didn’t explain why his every touch made her feel as though someone had touched a flame to her; it didn’t explain why she looked at his mouth and imagined it on her.
Eventually, he released her, and she snatched her hand back. “You said you invited me here to introduce me to some eligible gentlemen,” she prompted when he remained where he was, holding her gaze. Even in the candlelight, she could see the way desire unfurled in his eyes like a flower opening to the sunlight.
Oh, that made everything so much harder. She was here to find another man to marry, not give herself to the Duke again, even if that was all she wanted.
He was not going to marry her, no many how many times she allowed him to kiss her.
Did that matter?
The Duke frowned slightly. “I see.”
“You agreed—” Heavens, this was harder than she had ever expected it to be.I burn for you, Your Grace. “You agreed to find me a husband. To marry.”
His eyes searched hers for a moment before he nodded. “Sir Robert,” he said, turning around to face a young man with chestnut hair and hazel eyes that peeped mischief. “I would like to introduce Lady Sybil to you.”
“With pleasure,” Sir Robert said promptly, coming to take the seat the Duke vacated. “I am at your service, My Lady.” He took her hand and kissed it, but although he did so with perfect grace and a charming smile, there was no tingling awareness that made its way up her arm.
No matter. If there was one thing Sybil had learned from theton, it was that ladies rarely married for love—and the few that did, suffered straying husbands soon enough. Better she knew the terms of the game before she played.
“Sir Robert,” she said, attempting to sound flirtatious. How did one flirt, anyway? Without doing something that exposed one’s bosom, at least. “How do you do?”
“Far better for having seen you, my dear,” he said, settling back into his chair. She judged him to be in his late twenties or early thirties, and she understood why the Duke had summoned him here; he was no doubt looking for a wife.
“Are you always so charming?” she asked, keeping her gaze on his face. Behind him, she noticed the way the Duke turned his face slightly, as though he was listening to the conversation.
“Only for the most beautiful young ladies, Lady Sybil.”
She fluttered her fan and tried to look flattered. “You are too kind, Sir.”
“Not at all. My kindness, as it is, is purely selfish.” He gave her a long, assessing glance and a long, slow smile curved his mouth. “You see, I am hoping it recommends me to you.”
He was definitely a flirt, although whether his intentions went deeper, she couldn’t be certain. Would the Duke have invited gentlemen here who would treat her badly? She looked at him, but he was engaged in conversation with a young lady who looked as though her every dream had come true.
Of course, it had. What young ladydidn’twant the Duke’s attention? Sybil found herself despising the young lady’s dusky curls. Did the Duke prefer brunettes? Odd that he had said he would be so interested in dancing with her if that was the case.
“Lady Sybil?” Sir Robert glanced to see where her attention lay and a wider smile crossed his mouth. “It seems I am too late.”
“No—not at all! You must not think—”
“Oh, I know precisely what to think, Lady Sybil, and rest assured I have no hard feelings. No man here would think they could compare with the Duke.”
“No, that’s not it at all,” she said desperately. “His—his cravat is crooked.”
“His cravat?” Sir Robert looked at her with all the incredulity she deserved. If the Lord was kind, he would smite her where she sat so she would no longer have to endure this embarrassment. It crept across her face now, smothering her cheeks in heat.
Again.
This evening could not get worse.
ChapterThirteen
It transpired that she was wrong. The evening could indeed get worse.
At first, she hadn’t thought that being seated beside Lord Cavely would be so bad. He was a serious-looking young man, to be sure, but he was handsome enough.
