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“Miss Cavanaugh, I’m delighted.” He bowed charmingly before turning to her mother who tried to mask her astonishment and hope. “Lady Cavanaugh, how charming to make your acquaintance.”
Her mother curtsied and returned a greeting. Mild pleasantries were exchanged with the hostess and mamma. Though the duke did not look in Pippa’s direction, she could sense all his awareness was for her. She was unsure how to feel about his assessment. Am I nervous or excited? That question might remain unanswered of the night, she was only sure that the strange feelings flipping around in her stomach were because of his presence.
He turned to her, his eyes alight with warm humor. “Miss Cavanaugh, I do hope you will honor me with a dance this evening.”
Lady Rutherford froze, then twittered, “Your grace! I’m sure Miss Cavanaugh would be pleased to know this is your first dance of the season!”
The countess’s staged whisper had several ladies snapping open their fans. The buzz of their murmurs and speculation crawled over Pippa’s skin like ants.
She stared at him helplessly. “It would be my first dance of the season too,” she murmured.
Lady Rutherford sent her a horrid stare as if Pippa should not have admitted no one had cared to stand up with her, even once. And perhaps she should have been more mindful with her tongue. Making a desperate recovery, she said, “All my dances are available.”
Her mother inhaled sharply, and she blushed. Drat. It was as if all her lessons on proper interaction with a gentleman had flown through the open terraced windows.
“If I could take them all, I believe I would, Miss Cavanaugh.”
His lips curved and an answering smile was irresistibly drawn from her.
The orchestra started a waltz, and he held out his hand. “If you would honor me now, I would be most pleased.”
She threw a glance at her mother who merely stared with such wide eyes, and pitiful hope, Pippa almost burst into tears. She dipped into a curtsy, placed her gloved hand on his arms, and allowed him to escort her onto the ball floor.
The bows of the orchestra leaped to life, and the exquisite music of the waltz filled the room. He swept her into his arms with innate grace and elegance, and Pippa followed seamlessly. “I’ve never danced the waltz before,” she murmured, feeling wonderfully awed.
Surprised flared in his eyes. “I would not have been able to tell. You move beautifully, Miss Cavanaugh.”
A sweet, mystifying ache trembled low in her belly. “Thank you, Your Grace. My fa…father taught me.” And the memories of her fifteen-year-old self, giggling and having great fun in her father’s arms as he taught her the steps almost overwhelmed her.
Swallowing back the mess of emotions stirring in her heart, she smiled. “Thank you for asking me. I…I’m not asked to dance often.” Or at all.
And the duke’s attention tonight would go a
far way in restoring her unfairly tarnished reputation and honor. A lump grew in her throat until she could barely swallow. She could see the happiness of her mother as she stared at them from the sidelines. A duke danced with her daughter. One who was well loved and respected. Pippa would not need many stamps of approval after that.
Surely, he knew he did her a great kindness.
“I did nothing but asked a lovely lady to dance with me.”
His eyes glowed with wicked tenderness and distressing familiarity. A lump grew in her throat, and she looked beyond his shoulder, unable to stare in his face. He knows it was me. The awareness filled her, yet foolishly she was not afraid. “What you must think of me!”
“I admit you are the most fascinating creature I’ve ever met, Miss Cavanaugh. I have yet to decide if that is good or bad. Meet me at midnight in the gardens. That is about two hours from now,” he murmured.
“Your Grace?” Pippa demanded wholly taken aback.
“I would like to continue our conversation and our game. It has been…haunting me.”
A jolt of apprehension went through her at the confirmation he knew it had indeed been her inside his townhouse. The dark heat in his gaze and feminine awareness warned Pippa it was her who had been tormenting his thoughts. Do you have wicked dreams of me too?
Cynical humor entered his eyes. “No denial, I am impressed, Miss Cavanaugh. I had prepared for a volley of tears, vapors, and machinations.”
“I would like to think I am a good deal more sensible than that.” Though her anxiety was cramping her gut. She could not determine what he would do with the information. Pippa thought it unlikely he would pursue the matter lawfully, but it felt wretched to be so uncertain of his intention. She could deny it since there had been no witness, but it would be her words against a powerful duke.
“I gather to adopt the person of Lady W one would have to be. Even my sister Selina reads your articles, finding them clever and resourceful without being malicious. Amelia is not too fond, however.”
Pippa stumbled but he held her securely in his arms, and only the keenest of observers would have noticed that slight mishap. It was impossible the duke would know that much. Fearful denial hovered on her lips. She had been careful of her secret identity. If society knew Pippa Cavanaugh, a lady already barely tolerated, was the source of their tattles, she and her mother would never be invited to another ball or drawing room. Everyone in society would cut them. “Your Grace, I—”
“There are far more interesting and scandalous people than me,” he said, “Did you know Viscount Charleigh dresses as a woman and sings for others at a special club in Soho square?”
