Page 49 of My Deal with the Wrong Duke

“I did.”

“You did not mention it.”

“It did not seem relevant.” His voice was even, though there was an inexplicable storm in his eyes.

The waltz slowed into its final movement. He drew her through the last turn with a control that spoke of years of training, his steps precise, his frame steady. She watched his face. The candlelight softened the angles, warmed the hazel of his eyes to gold.

“You look lovely tonight,” he said. “I should have told you earlier.”

The music faded. The last note hung in the air, resonant, reluctant to end. They stood at the center of the floor. His hand remained at her waist. Her fingers remained on his shoulder. Neither moved.

Around them, the applause was polite, scattered, the customary acknowledgement of a dance concluded. But beneath the applause, she heard it. The whisper. The current of speculation that moved through Lady Ashworth’s ballroom like a tide finding its level.

“They are watching us,” she murmured.

“They have been watching us all evening.”

“Lady Whitmore just leaned toward Mrs. Alderton. She is covering her mouth with her fan.”

“They think we are engaged. Or about to be.”

Oliver’s gaze held hers. His thumb moved against the silk at her waist, a slow, deliberate stroke that sent sparks racing along her ribs. His expression was unreadable.

“Are we going to correct them?” he asked.

The question was quiet. The ballroom pressed around them: the heat of the candles, the murmur of forty guests rearranging themselves for supper, the rustle of silk. Lady Ashworth was watching from her seat beside the orchestra, her ancient eyes bright with the satisfaction of a hostess whose evening had produced exactly the spectacle she desired.

Louisa should have corrected them. She should have stepped back, offered a curtsey, thanked the duke for the dance, returned to Eleanor with the composure expected of a young woman who was very nearly being courted by another man entirely.

“No,” she said.

Oliver’s breath caught. She heard it, faint, bitten short.

“No,” she said again. “Let them talk.”

His hand fell from her waist. He stepped back. He bowed. The gesture was formal, correct, the bow of a duke to a lady at the conclusion of a waltz. But his eyes, when he straightened, held a warmth that the formality could not contain.

He offered his arm. She took it. They walked together toward the supper room, where Frederick Langley stood beside the door with two glasses of champagne, his smile broad, his gaze fixed on Louisa, certain the evening had gone precisely according to plan.

CHAPTER 14

“Ihave been hoping to speak with you all evening, Miss Fairchild.”

Frederick pressed a glass of champagne into Louisa’s hand as she entered the supper room. His smile was warm, his attention fixed upon her with the singular focus he had been directing her way since the cotillion. Behind them, Oliver released her arm. She felt the absence of his touch through the silk of her glove, a sudden cooling, a withdrawal.

“You have been speaking with me all evening, Lord Langley,” she said. “We danced twice.”

“Dancing is not speaking. Dancing is performing in front of forty critical observers while attempting to keep count.” He guided her toward a small table near the window where two chairs had been drawn close together, a supper arrangement that spoke of forethought rather than chance. “I wished to speak with you properly. Without the orchestra.”

Louisa glanced over her shoulder. Oliver had stopped beside the door. Sebastian was at his elbow, pressing a glass of claret into his hand. Oliver accepted the glass. He did not look at her. He murmured a remark to Sebastian she could not hear, and the two of them moved toward the opposite side of the room.

She sat. Frederick sat beside her. The supper table was laid with cold meats, aspics, fruit, tiny cakes dusted with sugar. The candlelight fell across Frederick’s face, softening the planes of it. He leaned toward her.

“I spoke with Lord Ashton this afternoon,” he said. “About his house party in Wiltshire.”

“You mentioned it during our dance.”

“I mentioned the possibility. I am now in a position to offer certainty.” He reached for the claret jug. “Lord Ashton has asked me to extend an invitation to you personally. His wife specifically requested your inclusion.”