Chapter 1
1815
“You’re fuming.”
“I am not.”
“Tell that to my throat.I’m choking on the smoke you’re emitting.”
With a huff, of…what some might call smoke…Lenora crossed her arms over her chest.
“Here.”Edward, Duke of Langston, pulled a wrapped treat out of his pocket and held out his hand.“Have this petit four.It should assuage your rage.Tame your flame.”
“I’m not raging.And my flame doesn’t need taming.”But she took the small confection anyway.
“There you go.Those always seem to make you feel a little better.”
She would have harrumphed, but she didn’t want to lose even the tiniest of crumbs should one fly out of her mouth.So instead, she gave him a mocking tilt of the head.
Edward officially had two modes, stoic and smug, and right now, the smugness exuding from him was so strong it practically had a fragrance.And it almost overrode his default bergamot scent that she had come to expect and inhale in his presence.
She cast him a furtive glance to view his profile.Yes.He was smug all right.Tight lips with just a hint of a curl in one corner.Hands in his pockets.Rocking back on his heels.Staring out at the dancers, yet paying her all his attention.She knew that to be true because she could feel it.
“If you continue staring at me, people might get the wrong idea, Lenora.”
And then she did harrumph.
“That’s not your most becoming sound.”
“I’m not trying to sound becoming at the moment, Edward.I’m frustrated.”
“I know—”
“I’m not fuming.”
He shrugged his irritating shoulders, but before he could defend his position, she plowed on with a winning argument.“It’s different.”
The small curl she had caught earlier was a full fledged smirk now.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“No.I do not want to talk about my lying sister and libertine father.”
“Well—”
“And I do not want to talk about how she should have trusted me with the secret of his astronomical debt, nor do I want to talk about how angry I am with my father for his reckless decisions in the midst of grieving the loss of his wife.She was my mother.I’m not out and about gallivanting at night making terrible life-threatening decisions, am I?”Her hands gripped her upper arms hard, turning her cold knuckles white.“And I most certainly do not wish to speak of my sister marrying in Gretna Green without me.”She sniffed.“Her only sister.”
In such a discreet fashion as to make Lenora wonder if it was intentional, Edward dragged a finger over hers, down her upper arm.
“Dance with me.”It was an instruction.He wasn’t even looking at her.Still.Yet she knew she had more of his attention than any of the men she had ever danced with.
Begrudgingly she let him entangle his fingers in hers, pulling her onto the dance floor just as the first strains of a waltz began to play.
Countless times Lenora had danced with Edward.And each time had felt just as familiar as the last.It was a place of comfort to have his arms around her.His attention undivided.His listening ear opened.And his words of—generally sage—advice at the ready.
If she wanted to open up about anything on her heart or mind, she knew that she could, or if she wanted to dance in silence, that was equally welcomed.
They had been friends for so long that Lenora could hardly remember the first time she had met him.He was a confidant.A point of safety and refuge.And one of her best friends.
