Page 57 of The Devil's Accidental Duchess
“I mean it, you know.” John halted him. “This is the best end I could have hoped for.”
Philip bowed his head. “I am pleased you think so.”
His father would not have agreed. Indeed, his father was probably rolling in his grave, furious that he could not put a stop to it. And that made it all the sweeter.
“I should go and find her,” he said.
John nodded. “Yes, please do. It will be good for people to see you together.”
Philip got down and, bracing for the onslaught, began his hundredth attempt to make it through the crowd without being intercepted.
He wandered into the entrance hall, considering slipping out of the manor so he might enjoy a breath of fresh air. There were fewer guests here, aside from some late arrivals.
Leaning against the newel post to observe, a prickle ran down the back of his neck. The feeling of being watched.
Slowly, he turned… and there she was. His betrothed. Standing at the top of the stairs with her friends and her mother around her like they were already in the church.
And I am the lucky devil who gets to marry her.
He stared, mesmerized, as she descended with the practiced grace of a debutante. She looked breathtaking in a gown of emerald green that shimmered like liquid with her every movement, her chocolate hair curled and pinned and studded with purple flowers, her cheeks rosy and her eyes bright, her face glowing with vitality.
Even the new arrivals stopped to gasp at her beauty.
How she had not been the Diamond of the Season, Philip didn’t know. Perhaps society was as blind and foolish as he suspected they were.
“Now, I see what took you so long,” he told her as she came to him, his hand extended to take hers.
She blushed, her eyes glittering with happiness. “It was my hair. It would not behave.”
“You should have worn it down,” he whispered. “Like it was the other night.”
“And shock everyone?” She laughed. “I don’t think so.”
“I’ll just have to imagine it then.” He weaved her arm through his and led her away from the stairs, toward the music in the ballroom.
It had been a long time since he had danced, but the lessons that had been drilled into him in his youth were not easily forgotten. And he had had one or two opportunities to learn the newer dances while he had been abroad, and a few that had not yet reached the shores of stuffy England.
He led her directly to the dance floor, not caring for etiquette. The other dancers stared at the couple in surprise and quickly made themselves scarce while the current song faded to a close.
“What are you doing?” she whispered. “We should wait until the next set begins.”
He shook his head. “This is our night. We do not have to wait.” He raised a hand to the orchestra. “A waltz.”
“A waltz?” Selina croaked, her eyes bulging.
“You have never danced one before?”
She bit her lip. “I have… practiced, but only with my friends.”
“Then I am honored to be your first.” His lips quirked into a smirk as the music began to play, and it became too late for Selina to back out.
His arm encircled her, his hand probably lower on her back than it should have been. Taking her hand in his, as herother hand rested on his upper arm, they began.
The dance floor was all their own as they turned in slow, graceful circles, in perfect rhythm with one another. He would not have suspected that this was her first time at all. Her neck was elegant, her turns precise, though her grip on his arm betrayed her nerves.
“Everyone is watching you,” Philip said quietly, close to her ear. “Every gentleman wishes he were me. Every lady wishes she could be half as beautiful as you.”
A pretty blush colored her cheeks. “Are you saying that to make me morenervous?”
