Regency Surrender: Powerful Dukes: An Unsuitable Duchess / An Uncommon Duke. Laurie Benson
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Forrester, a bit too enthusiastically.
Katrina raised her fan to hide her laugh and turned. Her eyes widened when she saw the Russian Ambassador’s wife on the arm of the Duke of Lyonsdale.
‘It is lovely to see you, ladies,’ Madame de Lieven said, inclining her head. She introduced Mrs Forrester and Sarah to the Duke, and then turned to Katrina. ‘I understand you are already acquainted with His Grace?’
Katrina could feel the weight of his attention as she lowered herself into a curtsy. ‘I am,’ she muttered.
‘Ladies,’ he said, in that deep voice that reverberated through her body. ‘I hope you are enjoying yourselves this evening.’
Mrs Forrester replied rather quickly—perhaps because she was wary of what Katrina or Sarah might say. ‘Thank you, we are. I believe Almack’s is an experience one must have in order to fully appreciate it.’
That was vague enough. Katrina bit her lip to keep from laughing.
‘And what do you appreciate the most?’ he asked them, with a knowing look in his eye.
‘We’ve been discussing the fine dancing,’ replied Mrs Forrester.
‘And the fashionable attendees,’ said Sarah as she glanced down at the Duke’s muscular calves, encased in white stockings.
When Katrina coughed to cover her laugh, he narrowed his eyes at her. ‘And, Miss Vandenberg, what have you come to appreciate this evening?’
Don’t say finely formed legs!
Katrina knew he suspected their discussion had not been innocuous. Could she ignore a duke in the middle of Almack’s and not lose her voucher? Probably not. She lowered her hand and stared directly into his green eyes.
He arched his brow.
She glared momentarily.
His lips twitched.
‘I have been enjoying honest discussions with my friends.’ She saw in his eyes that he understood what she implied.
Madame de Lieven cleared her throat and they both turned her way. ‘Miss Vandenberg, His Grace has requested a waltz with you, and I have happily granted his request.’
Katrina stared at her and prayed she had remembered to close her mouth. ‘How kind of you,’ she managed to utter. Who was she to speak for Katrina? And that insufferable man knew she could not turn him down now.
‘I believe the waltz is next,’ Madame de Lieven noted, appearing pleased with herself.
Lyonsdale held out his arm and sent Katrina a challenging look. ‘Then it is wise for us to proceed to the dance floor,’ he said.
She glared at him while politely resting her hand on his sleeve. They excused themselves and strolled through the crowd of people who parted for them. Watchful eyes followed their every step.
‘I assure you I do not bite,’ he whispered into her hair.
She chewed her lip to stop herself from telling him to go to the devil. Stepping on to the dance floor, he spun her around elegantly and placed his gloved hand on her back. Heat ran from his hand through her entire body. It was becoming difficult to breathe normally. A momentary sense of panic made her wonder how quickly the waltz would end. Maybe she could fake an illness in the middle of it?
He pulled her closer. She pushed her body further away.
‘I have the distinct impression that you would rather be elsewhere,’ he said. ‘May I ask why?’
‘No, you may not. I am still angry with you, lest you had not noticed.’
‘I thought you might be. Does your anger preclude us from speaking?’
‘It does. Angry people should not converse. It leads to further ill will.’
‘Is that an American rule of conduct? What is the case when only one of the party is angry?’
‘Then that person should remain silent. Usually the harshest statements are made in anger.’
He leaned his head closer. ‘And you are angry with me because you feel I have deliberately deceived you?’
‘Yes.’ She would not give him the satisfaction of knowing she was also angry because he had previously ignored her.
‘You say angry people should not converse, and yet here you are speaking to me. I really am becoming puzzled with your logic.’ He inhaled slowly.
Katrina jerked her head away from his.
He had the nerve to grin at her. ‘I am simply stating the inconsistency of our situation.’
‘Do not patronise me,’ she chided. ‘And stop sniffing my hair. It is disconcerting.’
‘For you or for me?’
‘For me,’ she replied in a low, forceful voice. ‘If sniffing my hair leaves you disconcerted that is another reason you should stop doing it.’
‘But there lies the rub. You see, where you are concerned I cannot help myself. I have become quite fond of lemons, by the way.’
‘They can be sour and leave a bitter taste in your mouth.’
His gaze dropped to her lips. ‘Yes, that is true. But they can also be refreshing, as well as tart.’
‘Perhaps you would do better to seek out something bland, like lavender or orange blossom. I’ve noticed a great many women in London favour those scents. I am certain if you try you can find an alternative place for your nose,’ she suggested with false sweetness.
His lips twitched. ‘Oh, I can think of a few places my nose would care to be.’
The insufferable man! She was not as naïve as he might think.
‘I am not speaking with you.’ She raised her chin, annoyed that he had taken the upper hand in their discussion.
‘So you said. You dance very well, by the way.’
‘Do you always ignore other people’s wishes?’
‘Usually. They never seem to mind.’ He gave a small shrug as he guided her gracefully into a turn. ‘In any event, I was not ignoring your wishes. You stated quite clearly that you were not speaking with me. I, on the other hand, have never said I am not speaking with you. In fact I believe you are the one ignoring your own wishes. You are continuing to speak with me.’
She shifted her attention to the dancers behind him and let out an exasperated breath.
He leaned down slightly. ‘That still might constitute speaking. It is a confirmation of your annoyance with me.’
Sliding her gaze back to him, she wondered how many more minutes she would have to be in his company. He sent her an amused look. Could she kick him during the dance without anyone seeing?
‘Now, Miss Vandenberg, you do not want the entire assembly to know that you are cross with me. It might reflect poorly on you. I suggest you pretend to enjoy being in my arms.’
That was the problem. Being in his arms was distracting, and it was making her feel all...fluttery. She forced herself to appear bored.
He appeared smug.
Blast it all!
‘Do you think every unmarried woman in this room wants you?’
‘Well, since I am one of only two eligible dukes in England who are able to eat with their own teeth, yes, I believe that to be true.’
‘I suppose that would matter were I English, but, you see, to me your title has little appeal. In fact, to me, your title is inconsequential.’
‘How so?’ he asked, tilting his head to the side.
‘The other ladies in this room are shopping for a