“I would love to,” she replied blandly.
Tabitha took his offered arm as they went to the ballroom, where a lively song rose in the air. The lords and ladies of the ton all danced, the bright colours of gowns and waistcoats like flower petals dancing in the wind. His Grace did not say a word to her as he took her hand, and they began. He was a large man, and beside him, Tabitha felt very small and slight.
Despite his coldness and the distant way he seemed to look over her head, warmth surged inside her. She had the wildest thought of pushing herself against him, of bringing them indecently close together.
That was terrible, but she remembered with such startling clarity that night on the settee with Cassius. She had been uncertain about what he wanted, torn between hesitancy and raging desire. Now, there was—
There was a different manner of hesitation. She did not know this man, and he did not even particularly seem to like her. But she could not deny the passion that blazed inside her, the warmth that curled between her legs, and the tightness in her belly. She wanted something that she had no words for, and against all reason, that want seemed to grow with every touch of his warm palm against her gloves and every sharp glance. He moved like a powerful, exotic animal, but his touches were so gentle and tentative. Nearly reverent.
“You look lovely tonight,” he said. “Enchanting.”
The words were clipped and short. They sounded as if they were spoken from obligation, more than any belief that she looked especially nice.
“Thank you, Your Grace. You also look lovely.”
“Lovely is a descriptor better applied to women,” he said.
“Apologies, Your Grace. It was the first that came to mind. You look handsome. Sir Lancelot himself could not cut a more dashing figure.”
“Now, I feel as though you are mocking me.”
Tabitha did not know him well enough to know if his response was meant in jest or not, so she said nothing.
“Do you like Sir Lancelot?” he asked.
They spun together, Tabitha quite conscious of how near to her he really was. This dance was the first time she had touched a man since Cassius betrayed her. Maybe all her strange reactions were to be expected. Perhaps she missed him, and her body reacted to His Grace in this powerful way simply because she was remembering what she had lost.
“I do not know,” she said. “I suppose I like Lancelot well enough, but I am not terribly fond of adultery. Besides, Lancelot’s love for Queen Guinevere destroys the kingdom, does it not?”
Tabitha tried not to think about how her own love for Cassius had nearly undone her. She resisted the impulse to search for him in the crowd and see if he had arrived and taken notice of her. He could tell everyone about their dalliance, and Tabitha knew who would bear the brunt of the blame for it—not the charming lord.
“That is a rather dour view of the situation.”
“Am I wrong?”
“No,” His Grace replied, “but I suppose I am surprised. Usually, young ladies find Sir Lancelot to be terribly romantic. After all, he commits treason to be with Queen Guinevere. He wages war against King Arthur himself.”
“He betrays his friend,” Tabitha said.
Looking at the Duke of Hillsburgh, though, Tabitha could not help thinking of all the strange, heated emotions surging within her. He was an attractive man, and after they were wed, he would take her to bed with him. Tabitha trembled at the thought of his hands touching her bare skin and not impeded by the silk of her gloves and gown.
“Is loyalty important to you?”
“It should be important to everyone. Is it to you?”
It suddenly occurred to her that maybe the duke was just as faithless and rakish as Cassius was. Did it matter, though, if she did not intend to love him? If he was cold and unlikeable, did she care if he betrayed her?
Tabitha had a sinking suspicion that she did care.
“What is your unique situation?” he asked abruptly.
Tabitha nearly tripped, and he caught her. His powerful hands wrapped around her forearms, steadying her. The song ended, and they remained standing and staring at one another. “You do not know?” she asked.
“No.”
Tabitha considered lying. She had much to lose with her honesty and very little to feasibly gain from it. Bridgette’s words about the world judging women too harshly burned within her, though. Tabitha raised her chin in something like defiance.
“If we are to be married, I suppose you might as well know. I was caught unchaperoned with a man in a parlour. Nothing happened, but I fear that he will tell everyone that we were alone together and ruin my reputation. I seek to be wed before that happens and to a man who I do not love, so I will never again place myself into unnecessary harm by trusting the wrong man.”
