Evelina’s cheeks flushed at the memory of her encounter with the Duke. “There is no need for apologies, My Lady. His Grace was… quite clear in his expectations.”
Clara opened her mouth to reply, but her words were lost in a sudden hush that fell over the ballroom. Evelina turned, her heart skipping a beat as she saw the cause of the commotion.
The Duke of Dunmore had arrived.
Gabriel Jones cut an imposing figure as he strode into the room, his broad shoulders encased in a perfectly tailored black evening coat. His cravat was impeccably tied, and his dark hair was styled in a fashionable yet understated manner. As he made his way through the crowd, people parted before him like water around a ship’s prow.
Evelina found herself unable to look away, even as she silently chastised herself for her fascination with him. The Duke was infuriating, arrogant, and entirely too sure of himself.
She had no business admiring the way his green eyes seemed to catch the light of the chandeliers, or how his strong jaw gave him an air of unwavering determination.
“Well, well,” Clara murmured beside her, “it seems my nephew has decided to grace us with his presence, after all. How… unexpected.”
Evelina tore her gaze away from the Duke, focusing instead on her sister. Margaret was now engaged in conversation with a young gentleman, her cheeks flushed with pleasure.
Good. At least one of them was enjoying the evening.
As the night wore on, Evelina found herself constantly aware of the Duke’s presence. He moved through the crowd with easy grace, exchanging pleasantries with various members of the ton. Yet, she could not shake the feeling that his eyes often strayed in her direction.
“Ridiculous,” she muttered to herself. “You’re imagining things, Evelina.”
“I beg your pardon, Miss Balfour?” Lady Ashworth, another of the ton’s respected matrons, looked at her quizzically.
Evelina’s cheeks flamed. “Oh! Forgive me, Lady Ashworth. I was merely… thinking aloud about the lovely music.”
Lady Ashworth nodded, though her expression remained skeptical. “Indeed. As I was saying, your sister Margaret is a credit to you. So poised, so well-mannered. Why, if I didn’t know better, I’d think she’d been raised by a duchess rather than…” she trailed off, clearly realizing she’d overstepped.
Evelina forced a smile. “You are too kind, My Lady. Margaret has always been a quick study.”
As Lady Ashworth fumbled for a response, Evelina felt a prickle of awareness at the back of her neck. She turned around, her breath catching in her throat as she found herself looking directly into the intense eyes of the Duke of Dunmore.
He stood mere feet away, his gaze fixed on her with an intensity that made her pulse quicken. For a moment, neither moved. Then, with deliberate steps, he closed the distance between them.
“Miss Balfour,” he said, his deep voice sending an involuntary shiver down her spine. “Might I have the honor of this dance?”
Evelina’s mind raced. To refuse would be a terrible insult, but to accept… She glanced at Margaret, who was watching the exchange with wide-eyed curiosity.
“Your Grace,” Evelina replied, dipping into a curtsy. “I would be honored.”
As the Duke led her onto the dance floor, Evelina was acutely aware of the eyes on them. Her ears picked up the conversation between the women she left behind as she walked away slowly.
“Well, I never! The Duke, dancing with our dear Evie?” Lady Worthington’s voice was barely above a whisper as sheaddressed Lady Ashworth. “What could have prompted such an unusual pairing?”
Lady Ashworth’s voice was tinged with interest. “Perhaps he’s finally decided to take a wife. Though I must say, Miss Balfour seems an… unconventional choice for a man of his station.”
“Unconventional, indeed,” Lady Worthington agreed. “But then, the Duke has always been something of an enigma. This is the most excitement we’ve had at a ball in ages!”
It was all expected. The ton thrived on gossip, and the sight of the reclusive Duke of Dunmore dancing with Miss Balfour, a quasi-spinster, would surely set tongues wagging.
On the dance floor, Evelina tried to focus on the steps of the lively country dance but found herself increasingly distracted by the Duke’s presence. Each time they came together, his hand on her waist, she felt a jolt of awareness that both thrilled and unsettled her.
“I must say, Miss Balfour,” the Duke began as they circled each other, “your sister Margaret is a credit to you. She conducts herself with remarkable poise for one so young.”
Evelina’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You seem to have taken quite an interest in my family, Your Grace.”
A ghost of a smile played at the corners of his mouth. “Merely an observation, I assure you. My aunt has spoken highly of yourabilities as a tutor. She tells me you’ve educated all of your sisters?”
“Indeed,” Evelina replied, her tone cooling. “Though I’m sure Lady Claymont exaggerates my modest efforts.”
