Chapter Nine
Justin pushed his way through the crowd, and as he neared the three women, he heard a ripple of throaty laughter that made his stomach clench. Tess Townsend turned, clearly sensing his approach, and there was something about the swirl of her red dress, the angle of her jaw, that made him stop in his tracks.
A barrage of images assaulted him. Red dress. Dark hair. Pale skin. Images of two different women overlaid in his mind.
He frowned. She was familiar. From more than just one distant memory and a swathe of lustful fantasies over the years. His heart began to pound even as his brain struggled to make the connection that eluded him.
No, it was just a coincidence. She was not his scarlet woman from Careby’s. A woman like Tess Townsend wouldn’t be so short of lovers that she’d need to find one at a house party. His mind was putting two and two together and making five.
And yet he found himself studying her chin, the shape of her mouth, looking for similarities.
He started forward again, staring with an intensity thatwas probably making her uncomfortable. She’d definitely spotted him; her eyes widened as she looked him full in the face.
With recognition?
He closed the gap between them. Her eyes were an astonishing hazel brown, her dark brows neatly arched. Her nose was small and straight, and her mouth—
Justin sucked in a breath.
Her mouth was Scarlet’s mouth.
Her lips were the same, pink and full, and there—his heart stuttered—there was that same telltale mark near her top lip. The freckle he’d kissed at Careby’s.
When her perfume reached his nose, he was left in absolutely no doubt. That same floral scent had infiltrated his dreams for the past week. He hadn’t stopped thinking about her, wishing he’d taken more time. To savor. To explore.
Scarlet.
Tess, and the two women flanking her, all bobbed a curtsey. Edward bowed and turned to him.
“Your Grace. May I introduceHerGrace, the Duchess of Wansford.” He turned back to Tess. “Your Grace, this isHisGrace.”
Edward chuckled, appreciating the ridiculousness of the situation.
Justin bowed and took her gloved hand. He raised it to his lips, exactly as he’d done by the card table at Careby’s, and her lips parted in surprise. A delightful spurt of amusement shot through his veins. Surely she must recognize him?Hehadn’t been wearing a mask. But would she acknowledge the fact?
“Your Grace, I am… speechless,” he murmured. “You are not at all what I was expecting.”
“Oh, really? How so?”
Her voice was Scarlet’s, throaty and soft. It tightened his gut.
“It was my mistake. I assumed you would be a woman of advanced years.”
“I married young,” she said faintly. “You must have heard the story. My husband, the eighth duke, died on our wedding night.”
“You have my condolences.”
She inclined her head and tried to remove her hand from his. He tightened his grip.
“We clearly have a great deal to discuss.”
A pink flush was spreading across her cheeks at his deliberately loaded words.
“Of course. You’re welcome to call at Wansford House at your earliest convenience.”
He shook his head. “Why wait? We’re both here, after all. Come, we should dance.”
Without giving her a chance to refuse, he tugged her hand. Wisely realizing she couldn’t escape without making a scene, she sent him an airy smile and allowed him to lead her toward the dance floor.
