“Do you mean ‘fine’ in the good sense or the middling sense?”
He sat down opposite her, on a matching settee. “Does it matter?”
It was a heavy question, and one that she was not prepared for. When she had agreed with her father to sincerely pursue marriage, she had assumed that it would be simple: she would find a gentleman, discover him to be pleasant enough and wealthy enough, and be married in haste. Whether it was amarriage of convenience or companionship or love had not played a part in that initial decision.
“I… suppose I still have a hope, silly as it is, that I can find a match like that of my friends,” she admitted quietly, gazing down into the glass of tawny port. “It is the rest of my life, after all. But the longer I have been attempting this, the more I think… no, it does not matter. I should be content with ‘fine.’”
I am in no position to ask for anything more,she neglected to add, for that would mean telling him why. Her father was a private man; he would not want the Duke of Thornhill to know of his woes and worries. Valeria did not want the duke to know, either.
“It is not silly,” he told her. “Itdoesmatter, so let us continue our work. Let us find you the match you deserve.”
Valeria raised her head in surprise. She had not known him very long, but she had never heard him speak with such… sincerity and determination before, as though her success was his success too. And the look in his eyes was a reassuring thing, those dark blue pools burning with resolve, shining with the promise of her victory.
She swallowed thickly. “How? This is useful, I do not deny it, but it is not… fast enough.”
“Then, let me teach you how to figure out a gentleman’s character quickly,” he replied, getting to his feet. “Resume your position. You are at a ball, you have had a glass or two of punchthat has been liberally doused with brandy, and you have seen a gentleman or three that you like the look of.”
Valeria got up, clutching her glass tightly. “Do I approach?”
“Not directly,” he replied, turning his back. “You wander near him. You make him aware of you. Saunter and sway, glance over your shoulder at him, brush his arm as you walk by. Find any excuse.”
Feeling foolish, but slightly less so than their first lesson, Valeria did as he instructed.
Imagining herself in the midst of a chaotic ball, guests crammed in, she wandered up to Duncan and let impulse take over. Pretending that it was too overcrowded, she stepped back into the spot just ahead of him.
“Please,” she said, gesturing for imaginary people to pass her by.
Feeling Duncan’s eyes on her, she dropped her gaze and, slowly and shyly, raised it again to him. The moment their eyes met, she looked away again, and stepped back out into the ‘crowd.’
As she walked past him, she feigned a slight stagger, bumping into his arm with a murmured, “Goodness, I am sorry. There are so many people here tonight.”
Flashing him another shy look, she let this one linger a moment longer. Indeed, she struggled to look away at all, for the firein his eyes had become an inferno, the black of his pupils smoldering like two embers. His jaw tensed, a muscle flickering, his expression almost… hungry.
“Forgive me,” she said quietly, making a move to continue past him.
His hand shot out, curving around her fingers, holding her there at his side.
“Dance with me,” he rasped, his deep voice like a summer thunderstorm, beautiful and dangerous. “Miss Maxwell…Valeria, dance with me.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“There is no music,” Valeria murmured, her chest rising and falling with quick, uncertain breaths. “And… I have promised the next set to someone else.”
Duncan no longer cared about the lessons, his hand tightening around hers, gazing deeply into her eyes. He had known she was a rare woman, but he had not known the magic she possessed until she had cast him those shy, torturous looks. Rather, he had been able to ignore it until that moment.
“Tonight, there are no other gentlemen,” he growled. “There is only you and there is only me, and if I must rip your dance card to shreds, I would do it gladly.”
Maintain the charade,his thoughts roared, his mind foggy as it shrouded the boundaries between what was a lesson and what was not.
Her throat bobbed. “That does not remedy our lack of an orchestra.”
“There is music, Valeria,” he urged, leading her to an open space at the far end of the drawing room. “Listen, and you will hear it.”
She stared at him, her cheeks flushing with color. “I… hear it, Your Grace.”
“Duncan,” he replied. “Call me by my name.”
She hesitated. “Do I know you well enough to do so?”
