I must investigate it one day,she noted, delighting in the thought of being the first scientist in the world to figure out how the mechanics of a kiss tied to the physical response.
She had already written about it in her book and hoped it might begin a dialogue that she could then use to gather evidence. Anonymously, of course.
“Are you well?” Albion’s voice brought her out of her excited reverie.
“Hmm?”
“You went somewhere,” he said, his fingertips lightly caressing her hand, almost as if he did not realize he was doing it. “I’ve noticed that you do that a lot. You go somewhere in your mind, somewhere far away. Sometimes, I think it’s a good place. Sometimes, not so good.”
Warmth rushed into her cheeks. “And did it look like I was in a good place or a bad place?”
“Good, I think. You were smiling.”
She swallowed thickly. “I did not realize you paid such close attention to me.”
“It’s an old habit,” he explained with a tight laugh. “When you work among men, day in and day out, and fight many others, it’s a vital but underused skill to be able to guess what someone else is thinking, what someone’s next move will be. Sometimes, it can make the difference between taking another breath and not.”
Her heart squeezed, hearing the gravelly note in his voice, as if it had snagged on a memory. She had been given no opportunity to press him about his past, and though she wished to make a few enquiries at that moment, she resisted. The night was meant to be a joyful occasion, not one of dwelling upon bad things.
She told him so, giving his bicep a playful pinch. “You trulyhavebeen away from society too long, Albion. This is a ball, not a funeral procession. We are supposed to make merry!” She grinned. “For one night, I am making another rule—I am forbidding you from thinking about business or your past. Tonight, you are to sit in the present and stay there, taking all of this wonder in.”
A group of young ladies wandered by, and as they caught sight of Matilda, they turned to whisper eagerly to one another. Their pretty faces twisted into ugliness as they cackled and pointed, none too discreetly. She could not ignore the unkind words that they murmured loud enough for her to hear.
“Are they not well suited?” one said.
“I hear he is half-blind in both eyes—that must be why he married her,” said another.
“But what of his ears? How can he bear to listen to her?” mocked a third. “It is a wonder she has not bored him to death with all her hypocritical talk of female independence.”
Matilda peered up at Albion, whose expression had darkened. His glittering eyes narrowed at the group of young ladies, and like magic, the moment they noticed, their mouths snapped shut, and the smug looks were wiped from their faces. Fear passed across them, and in an anxious gaggle, they scuttled away.
“You made a terrible choice,” Matilda said wryly, “if I am your hope of re-entering polite society. I was hated before I married you. I have no friends but those you have already met, and I have the most unusual talent for clearing a wide radius around me whenever I attend one of these frivolous things.”
He turned toward her, his fingertips lightly brushing a wild lock of hair out of her face. “You remember I said I had a knack for reading people?”
“Of course. You said it two seconds ago.”
He chuckled. “Those ladies were envious of you, Matilda. You’ve got power they could only dream about. You’re a duchess now, and that demands respect.” He chinned in the direction of the frightened women. “But the funny thing about respect is that you won’t get it from those who are unworthy ofyourtime and presence.”
“Envious of me?” She scoffed.
He dropped his head slightly, and she froze, certain that he was about to kiss her again. “You’re breaking your own rule, Matilda.”
“Pardon?”
“Tonight, we make merry.” He took hold of her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “My duchess, my wife—would you do me the honor of granting me the next dance… andnotrunning from me before it ends?”
She swallowed a giggle, for she was not the giggling kind. “You said you forgave me.”
“I do, but that doesn’t mean I can’t tease you now and then.”
She tilted her head to one side. “Very well, no more rule breaking.” She squeezed his hand in reply. “Let us dance.”
“First, you’re going to have to show me where the dance floor is,” he suggested, his eyes bright with amusement. “This ball isn’t a ball at all—it’s a military campaign, and I haven’t the faintest idea where the battlefield is supposed to be.”
She tugged him forward, lifting her chin in defiance to anyone who wanted to say a bad word about her or Albion, and as she glanced back over her shoulder and met his gaze, she said with a grin, “Follow me, Captain.”
CHAPTERSIXTEEN
