The dowager had done her best to welcome him with warmth and kindness, it was the least he could do in return; especially because he would be leaving in less than two weeks.
He cut a swath through the crowd, nodding and exchanging pleasantries. If he was weary of this farce in London, he almost dreaded how he’d be received back home where dukes were as mystical and uncommon as unicorns. Even if he refused to use his title, he didn’t doubt the word had already spread. His life would be irrevocably altered no matter what continent he was on. He’d made it halfway across the room when the shattering glass drew his gaze. Instead of a shamefaced servant, however, the woman he saw made the world go silent…
And, when her wide eyes met his, the room’s din came crashing down around him all at once.
Ariel.
“Shit,” he muttered, his heart suddenly pounding against his ribcage like a battering ram. He opened his mouth to say her name, but she brushed off her companion and whirled away before he could. She moved with impressive speed and had ducked from the room before he could make it two strides. Not caring how rude it was, Charles shoved through countless guests trying to both verbally and physically grab his attention. He knew he had to reach her before she left or he’d never have another chance. He couldn’t call upon her at her brother’s house—at least, not without setting tongues wagging—and she would likely turn him away anyway. There were a thousand ways for her to avoid him and very few options left to him if he wished to try to make things right.
Driven by his need to reach her, Charles trod on toes and took advantage of his title; these Brits would forgive a great deal whenone’s name was as lofty as his. But Ariel was nowhere in sight by the time he reached the hallway. It took several moments for his eyes to adjust to the dimmer lighting, but he thought he caught a glimpse of blue- green skirts turning the corner. He’d learned the general layout of the house by then and knew she could reach the front door, hail her carriage, and leave in a relatively short amount of time by cutting through the daffodil-yellow sitting room. Under no circumstances could he allow that to happen. Having her slip through his fingers was unthinkable.
He’d tried to deny it to himself over and over again, but he’d thought of little else other than her smile and her eyes and her body the last few days. When he saw her in the ballroom, he’d been unaccountably pleased, his heart and stomach doing a little flip-flop dance around one another.
He cursed the slick soles of his boots—designed more for form than function—as he nearly collided with a table and crystal vase during a particularly sharp turn.
“Ariel,” he hissed as loudly as he dared, not wanting to yell lest he alert the staff or other guests. The last thing either of them needed was an audience. Charles cursed again. “Ariel,” he called slightly louder that time.
Ariel’s strides were long, but his were longer. He was rewarded by a solid view of teal floral skirts just as they disappeared into a room. Had she turned right, she’d have reached the proper sitting room and her quick escape; this turn, however, led her away from the front of the house. He knew he had her.
Charles burst through the door into the darkened room. Only a sliver of silver moonlight seeped between the drapes, but it was all he needed to catch sight of Ariel’s shimmering rose-gold hair, the ringlets spilling down her right shoulder like molten ore. She had her back to him as she attempted to wrench open anotherdoor on the other side of the room, but it didn’t budge. A rapid round of rather creative curses poured from her pretty lips.
“I believe a key is more likely to open that door than curses,” Charles said, a light pant to his voice only partially due to his mad dash after her. Being alone with her once more was doing strange things to his pulse.
Her shoulders rose nearly to her ears and stiffened, but she did not turn around. The silence between them was leaden. Charles was morbidly curious to see how long she would allow it to last.
“Ariel,” he finally said; “at least hear me out.”
She whirled on him then, all glorious rage and spitfire. “Don’t you dare use my name as if we were so familiar,” she practically growled.
“I would think we’re quite familiar.”
Her cheeks stained an even darker shade and he knew it was precisely the wrong thing to say.
“Familiar?” she snarled and stalked toward him a couple of steps. He tried not to focus on how delectable her bosom looked swathed in that low-cut bodice—now was not the time, nor the place, no matter that a part of him was childishly thrilled at seeing her once again when he’d never thought it would come to pass. “You are the basest of beings. The verist of swindlers. The—the—myGod, you are the Duke of Ryton.” She loosed a loud bark of incredulous laughter at the irony and flung her hand in his direction. Charles didn’t think they’d been followed, but it wouldn’t do to be discovered. He needed her to keep her voice down. He held up a palm in what he hoped was a calming gesture.
“Please, let me explain,” he said in an even, low tone.
“Explain?” Ariel demanded much more loudly than he would have preferred. “How could you possibly explain this?” A doordown the hall closed with a thud. It was likely a servant slipping down the back stairwell to retrieve something, but Charles couldn’t chance it…he couldn’t allow Ariel to chance it. “There isn’t anything you could say—” There was simply no preventing it. Charles cut off her tirade with one hand on her arm and the other palm clapped over her lips. She glared at him with those striking eyes and clasped his forearm to free herself, but he was still much stronger than she.
“I need you to listen,” he spoke close to her ear, trying to ignore her heady scent. “I can explain all of this, but we need to go somewhere quiet.” He felt her mouth shift beneath his palm. “And if you bite me, I promise to bite back,” Charles growled. Her lips stilled, but the fire still burned in her eyes.
He needed to take her somewhere they could speak uninterrupted without the risk of damaging her reputation—anywhere there mightbe a locked door and they wouldn’t be quickly discovered. Her nails bit into his arm through his coat as he hauled her along with him out into the dim hallway. He didn’t feel good about dragging her along with him as he dashed further toward the back of the house and into the room that had once been the study of the old duke. Charles had yet to spend any real time there other than to peruse some dusty papers, but he did know with complete certainty that there was a solid working lock on the door and it was far from the party in the ballroom. He toted Ariel along with him, the last few strides going more smoothly when it seemed she realized the futility of her physical resistance. He pressed the door closed and turned the mechanism to barricade the room. Ariel immediately spun away from him and stomped out of his reach.
“Of all the impertinent, ill-mannered—”
“Yes, I believe we’ve established that you don’t much care for me at the moment. May we move on?” He crossed his arms over his chest, watching as Ariel emitted a sound dangerously close toa growl and stalked away from him. “Now, will you allow me to explain?” he repeated, his patience thinning like ice beneath the growing heat of his frustration.
“As if you could possibly provide me with any excuse that would lessen my anger,” she scoffed. Charles’ hands balled into fists.
“Of course, I cannot blame you for your anger, ma’am…but I can assure you there was no premeditation or nefarious plotting on my end.”
“Unlikely.” She whirled away and Charles could help himself no longer; he was tired of chasing her through the damned house. His long stride devoured the space between them, effectively backing Ariel against the mahogany wainscoting and caging her in with his palms pressed flat against the wall on either side of her.
“You are an intelligent woman, Ariel. How could I have known before arriving upon your doorstep that you had hired a man for the evening?” Though the lighting was poor, he could still see the deepening flush upon her cheeks. The little minx refused to be cowed, however, and he found he admired her greatly when she proudly tilted her chin up and met his eyes squarely.
“You will address me asLadyAriel. I did not give you leave to use my given name.”
Charles released an undignified sound from his nose. “I seem to recall otherwise.”
