Page 15 of Love, the Duke
CHAPTER5
MAN’S PRACTICAL GUIDE TO APPREHENDING A THIEF
SIR BENTLY ASHTON ULLINGSWICK
Stalk the suspect carefully without him knowing.
Hurst had seen her across the distance of the lively ballroom floor almost as soon as he’d stepped up to the entrance. She had a familiarity that drew his interest more than he could adequately define, although he was sure he’d never met her before. He would have remembered.
As he studied her from the doorway, he couldn’t quell the thought that he must have been introduced to her. But where? When? Recently, for certain. There was something about her that stirred him as she stood under a chandelier with other ladies; he was sure they’d met at a party last night. Her shoulders were straight but not stiff. Her chin was high but not haughty. A tier of lush golden curls swept up attractively into a fashionable chignon and shimmered enticingly under the dancing candlelight, giving her an angelic look that attracted him immensely.
The feeling was more than just one of awareness or that sensation of being swept off his feet. It was as if somehow deep in his soul he knew she was the lady he’d been waiting for. Which was absurd since he had no idea who she was. Too, it was irrational, and he was as rational as a person could be. He’d always had to be. His father madecertain of that. Furthermore, she could be married. Betrothed. Or a figment of his imagination. Maybe he’d just had too much brandy before coming to the ball.
Did he believe in love at first sight? Maybe. He certainly knew there could be instant attraction between two people. No doubt every lady could tell when a man noticed her with interest just as every man knew when a woman had interest in him.
He really didn’t know what to think about how she was making him feel. It was inexplicable. For quite some time, Hurst had felt he’d know the lady he wanted to spend the rest of his life with when he met her, but not before they’d said a word to each other. That was further than he was willing to go. Nevertheless, the longer he stood in the doorway, the more intrigued he allowed his feelings to become. He wanted to get closer to her and find out if she was indeed the one.
When he’d stepped into the ballroom and started toward her, he was besieged by men wanting to say hello or introduce him to their daughters or someone else. With as much refinement as he could muster given his mission, he managed to say a few words with each person and gently shake off first one and then other guests. But as someone peeled away, another took his place. He lost sight of her for a time as he continued through the crowd of people vying for his attention. When he drew near to where she’d been, she’d started walking away. Alone.
There was nothing to do but follow her. Back to the vestibule, down a darkened corridor, and around a corner. After another turn, she disappeared into what Hurst knew was Wyatt’s book room.
Hurst paused. Why was she going in there? Was she meeting someone? A man? In secret? He didn’t want to think about that being the case. Not yet. He hadn’t settledthat strange feeling inside that said she was meant to be his. And, he wasn’t certain he should be encouraging it by following her. But forgetting about wanting to know who she was didn’t feel right either. Soundlessly, he eased farther down the corridor, making sure his shoes made silent treads.
At the open doorway, he quietly leaned his hip against the framing and slowly peered around into the interior of the room. She was at the far end with her back to him. No one was with her. The simple high-waisted design of her blue gown with capped sleeves falling softly off her shoulders was fetching. Her nape was slender and alluring with small tendrils of golden spun hair gracing her nape.
Pushing away from the door, he said, “Excuse me, miss. You must be lost.”
He was sure she had heard him. She went still. Seconds ticked by and she didn’t turn around. Maybe she was meeting someone after all and his voice wasn’t the one she was expecting. She obviously needed time to collect herself, and he was all right with that. Ladies should always be cautious.
She hesitated so long he was beginning to think she wasn’t going to answer him but then turned and focused directly on his face. In that brief instant, he knew immediately who she was. His heart pounded. There was another gut-wrenching moment when he felt shewasthe lady he’d been waiting for. That couldn’t possibly be. He’d already turned her down. Sight unseen.
“I’m not lost, Your Grace.”
At the sound of her gentle voice, he took a few steps farther into the room. His gaze tightened in on her fathomless blue eyes, pert nose, and pink rosebud lips. There was no doubt she and the lady who came to his housedressed as a man were one and the same, though she looked entirely different tonight, dressed properly and stunning as Miss Ophelia Stowe.
It wasn’t a wonder she’d seemed so familiar with how she carried herself when he first caught a glimpse of her. But what about the other feelings he’d experienced deep in his chest and gut? That she wasn’t just another beautiful belle to spend a little enjoyable time with, but she was theonefor him.
No. She couldn’t possibly be. Not someone who would sneak into his home clothed as a man, ask him to pry around in people’s homes in search of a relic, and now seemed to be pilfering through his best friend’s home. That was troublesome. So no, she wasn’t the ladyhe’dbeen waiting for.
“You have no reason to be in here, Miss Stowe.”
“So, you do recognize me. I wondered if you would.”
Oh, yes. Her soft lilting voice and vivid blue eyes would be difficult for anyone to forget. “What’s that in your hand?” he asked tersely.
She looked at the small silver goblet and then placed it on the table beside her. “Nothing I’m interested in, but I do have cause to be here, Your Grace. I was invited to this party.”
Frowning, he hoped he’d talked her out of this nonsense when she was at his home. Her proposal to search all the book rooms of the elite of the ton was absolute madness.
“Specifically,” he said, remaining between her and the doorway, letting her know she wouldn’t get past him if she suddenly tried to leave. “What exactly are you doing in this room?”
“Why do you ask?” she answered crisply, but remained calm as a tepid, windless July day.
“I want to know. Apparently, you forgot something in your haste to snare a criminal—a chaperone to protect you against a man like me.”
Hesitancy marred her forehead, as if she took him at his word. “You do not frighten me, Your Grace.”
“I should.” He cocked his head back.
