A household that was hosting a free-for-all masquerade. May felt foolish. Little wonder that this man expected a night of no consequence.
Then again, he wore no mask.
As the man moved toward her, May rose from her seat so swiftly that the blood rushed to her head. The distance between them had not yet crossed into the realm of offensiveness, but May felt dizzyingly tiny before the stranger’s proud, broad-shouldered stature. He was at least a head taller than her, which was not hard, but it put her line of sight directly at his collar. Even in the dim candlelight, she could see the precision with which his cravat was tied. He wore no costume but a jacket so finely cut and flattering on his figure that it was undoubtedly expensive enough to rival the cost of her lady’s entire wardrobe. Yet his clothes were understated, as if to make an unwitting eye mistake him for a man of no consequence. Impossible.
As if aware of May’s trailing gaze, the man adjusted the turn of his cuffs in a most businesslike manner and inclined his head.
“You might have surmised it for yourself already, but I do believe an introduction is in order. I am Elias Alexander Abigner, Duke of Southam, but for our purposes, you might call me Elias.”
May’s heart jumped into her throat.
The Duke of Southam? He could not possibly be! The duke was one of the five richest men in all of England, known among thetonas one of the nobility’s most no-nonsense gentlemen. And whatever did he mean by “our purposes?? Introducing himself by his Christian name—just how familiar did he intend to get with her?
Here was a man bold enough to show up for a costumed ball in plain clothes and lock a woman in a room with him. Was this how he let off steam? And how was she to turn the duke’s attentions away?
Better feign cooperation. She curtsied deeply. “How may I be of service to you, milord?”
The duke paused at that, before the hint of a smile crept up his lips.
“Please, My Lady, be seated.” He gestured to the chair she’d abandoned. “Let us discuss this matter in comfort.”
She descended into it as slowly as she could, watching him all the while like a hawk. He seemed oblivious to her discomfort, pulling a futon to sit beside her. The candlelight flickered across his face, and now that he was not towering over her, May’s eyes widened.
The duke wore glasses. More worryingly, the duke was handsome. He had luscious brown hair, which seemed to be the only thing to disrupt his buttoned-up appearance. It fell languidly to one side, and the way the duke tossed his head when a strand obscured his vision told her that some things even he could not make fall in line.
She found herself resisting a smile that fell by the wayside as his dark eyes met hers. They seemed to weigh her worth as if her heart was perched on Anubis’ scales. A shiver traveled down her spine, igniting a long-forgotten fuse. Her lips parted. All this time spent among the French had driven her to madness. That was the only possible explanation for her finding the dukeattractive, of all things. Dukes were not for her tothinkof. They were as distant as the heavenly bodies, casting their benevolent light on pure whim. Not for her to be admired and certainly not… wanted. But she could not stop herself from thinking: if the duke was bold enough to lock himself in a room with her, why should she bother controlling herself?
As if in response to her abysmal thoughts, the duke frowned and bent closer until he was a mere palm’s width away from her face. The butterflies in her stomach took off in a flurry. Her breath tightened. She should have been scared, and she was—but only of breaking the connecting thread of his gaze. It did things to her, things she tried to forget existed ever since the last time it led to disappointment.
“Now that we are here, I hope you will forgive me, but I must make sure that you are capable of the task at hand.” His low voice reverberated through her.
“Oh?” she breathed, leaning into him. She was right: the masquerade affected everyone, including herself. Her mask made her braver, recklessly so, enough to take on even a duke. If he wished to take her, he could try. May closed her eyes, her breathing turning shallower as she prepared for the onslaught of his lips. What would his kiss be like? Would he be as clinical as he appeared, a true man of business, or was the glimpse of his untamed nature she’d caught true? An opportunity to discover such things was sure to never come again for the likes of her. She would certainly enjoy it before she slapped him senseless.
But the kiss never came. Instead, the duke cleared his throat and moved away. His once-more measured voice quieted the torrent of her wild thoughts.
“As I’d specified, it is not I who is to be the subject of your testing, My Lady, but my sister’s intended.”
When Elias asked his friend to set up this meeting, he was hopeful rather than optimistic. His particular purposes required a lady both opportunistic and enchanting, with natural aristocratic bearing, not some crude seductress. Unfortunately, it had been a long time since he himself had acquainted with ladies of such peculiar expertise. It was Huntley, the club’s resident Don Juan, who set up this meeting, inciting Elias to wariness. Refined women weren’t exactly his forte.
However, now he would freely admit to being impressed with his friend’s recommendation.
The lady before him was certainly enchanting. What little description Huntley gave him certainly undersold the reality. She had brown, neatly pinned-up hair, a heart-shaped face with a Greek nose, and full, luscious lips that parted slightly.
She’d called him “milord,” briefly taking him aback before he’d taken in her costume and realized she was playing at being a servant. Elias couldn’t help smiling slightly—she was hardly convincing. People were often intimidated by Elias, so he easily recognized the tension in her shoulders. Yet there was a defiance to the rise of her chin, which was utterly unbecoming of a servant. It also exposed the delicate line of her neck. Elias caught himself staring and, worse, leaning closer.Take hold of yourself, man.Her keen green eyes widened as he moved away.
It only gave him a wider view of her. The dim candlelight cast its warmth onto the delicate fabric of her gown, illuminating the way it clung to her waist and draped over her curvy hips. But it was that gaze of hers that held him fast still. There was a challenge in her eyes, one he liked more with every passing moment.
He did not expect to find himself so tempted this evening.
Oh, she was perfect. Lord Spencer wouldn’t know what hit him.
“It is not I who is to be the subject of your testing, My Lady, but my sister’s intended.”
“I beg your pardon?” Her clear surprise held such easy charm. Elias was not surprised that Huntley had failed to outline the entirety of Elias’s specifications. Some things were better conveyed in person.
“My sister is recently engaged. Yet despite my sister’s so-called… love match, I cannot help but doubt the gentleman’s intentions. I am sure you would not lay blame at my door forbeing cautious. It is inevitable, being who I am. People from all walks of life cannot help but try their luck—” Elias shrugged. As long as he was the sole subject of their cheating schemes, he could take it. “—but when it comes to my little sister, I am determined not to let them succeed. Thus, his intentions must be tested. Will he remain faithful to my sister, or will he be easily swayed by a rich and handsome temptress?”
The lady coughed. “What is it about me that announces affluence to you, Your Grace?”
