Page 42 of Stolen By the Heartless Duke

Before Jane could think of another excuse, the musicians changed tunes, marking the beginning of the first dance. Almost immediately, gentlemen began crossing the ballroom toward waiting ladies.

One such gentleman bowed before Lavinia. “Lady Lavinia, might I have the honor?”

Lavinia glanced toward Jane. Jane nudged her friend’s arm. “You should go.”

Lavinia laughed before finally placing her hand in the gentleman’s. “I shall return.”

“I know.” Jane watched them disappear toward the dance floor. Then she found herself alone.

“Lady Jane.”

The deep voice came from directly behind her.

Jane turned, her spine instantly straightening. The Duke of Sunderford stood there. In the glittering heat of the ballroom, he looked entirely untouched by the humidity or the noise, his expression perfectly composed. Only those piercing gray eyes regarded her, holding her gaze with an unsettling, deliberate intensity that made the surrounding chatter fade into a low hum.

He bowed. “Would you honor me with this dance?”

Jane stared. “Your Grace, I?—”

“Wouldn’t dare decline a duke’s offer to dance before an entire ballroom?” he whispered, then raised an eyebrow at her as he extended his hand.

She pursed her lips, knowing he was entirely right. A woman of her precarious circumstances could not refuse a duke. Certainly not the Duke of Sunderford.

“Indeed, Your Grace,” she gave a curtsy and placed her hand in his. “I’d be honored.”

With that, he led her toward the dance floor. His hand settled lightly against hers. As they took their places opposite one another, the next figure of the dance began.

For several moments, neither spoke. Jane focused entirely on her posture, acutely aware of the sharp, speculative glances from the sidelines. They moved through the familiar steps with practiced ease, but the space between them felt charged, heavy with unspoken tension. Only when the pattern of the dance brought them close once more, their shoulders nearly brushing, did Jane finally break her silence.

“Your Grace, I must ask… Why?”

He looked at her. “Why what, my lady?”

“Why ask me to dance?”

“It is customary for gentlemen to ask ladies to dance.”

“Not ladies whose families have become tonight’s entertainment,” Jane said. “Besides, people will speculate and wonder why on earth a man of your station has chosen me.”

His expression did not soften, yet something in his gaze locked tighter onto hers. “Let me be clear, my lady; I do not pity you.And besides, it is hardly peculiar for a man to ask a beautiful lady to dance.”

Her pulse stumbled, a sudden, erratic beat that caught in her throat. Her cheeks heated, the warmth spreading rapidly beneath her powder. He finds me beautiful. The realization felt dangerous, like stepping too close to a ledge.

Before she could process it, the music drew them apart, the final chords of the set ringing out to signal the end of the dance.

“Thank you for the dance, Lady Jane,” he whispered as they reached the edge of the ballroom.

“Thank you, Your Grace,” she responded with a curtsy.

The duke kept his eyes on her for a second longer than she’d expected, but then he turned and walked away.

Jane watched his tall figure disappear into the crowd, only realizing she had been staring when the colors of the ballroom blurred together.

“Jane!”

She turned, snapping back to reality, to find her mother approaching. Lady Wynten’s face was a mixture of sheer astonishment and desperate hope. “My dear…”

She took both of Jane’s hands, her grip tight and slightly trembling. “Did you just dance with the Duke of Sunderford?”