“Do you sing?”
Her eyebrows furrowed as if his question made no sense. “Do I sing?”
“Around the house, as you write letters, or look over menus? Would you sing in those types of situations?”
“In those types of situations? No.”
“Then perhaps the duke would be interested in you.”
Her gloved hand went to her mouth, this time covering it completely. She was as bad as Patience—always ready for a laugh. Once she was calm, she raised those dancing eyebrows, dropped her hand, and leaned forward. “I hardly think that would be the most important characteristic of a future duchess.”
He raised his eyebrows back at her. Two could play at that game. “The Duke of Harrington doesn’t have a perfected list of characteristics he is looking for, but when he does,thatwill be at the top of it.”
She pulled her head back and tipped her head to one side. “How could you possibly know what—” She paused. Her eyes slowly slid from the top of his head to his chest and waist. She took in the fine cut of his clothing, then continued her perusal down to the shine of his shoes. He had never been so thoroughly examined before in his life. It was all he could do to hold still, instead of pulling back his shoulders or turning his head slightly to one side to make his profile more favorable. After what seemed like ages, but was likely only a few seconds, her eyes widened. “Youknowhim. Is he a friend of yours?”
This was his chance to introduce himself. Heshouldintroduce himself. More accurately, he should have someone introduce them to each other, but he was a little late for that. However, the memory of Lady Marion’s lack of conversation still irked him. Would every woman stop speaking the moment they found outhis title? The woman in front of him waited for his answer, her brilliant eyes practically shining in the dark. He couldn’t do it.
“I might.”
Her eyes sparked again. “And is he looking to marry? As everyone is talking about?”
“He is thinking seriously about it.”
“Well.” She tipped her head with a grin, and a curl slipped out of her coiffure. He had the sudden urge to touch it and tuck it back into place with one of those pins of hers. “It is a serious matter.”
He didn’t reach for her, but he didn’t step away or ball his fists either. He simply stood his ground. “Definitely.”
The corridor was silent. Even the men in the cardroom seemed to have settled down. Not even a low murmur came from the room. His eyes were locked with hers, and the air around them crackled with energy. Energy he hadn’t felt in a long time.
He could simply ask this woman to marry him and be done with the whole blasted ordeal.
He could marry her, count those freckles, and fall asleep every night with his last sight being her thick lashes closing over her gemstone eyes. She’d said the majority of women would marry a duke without considering his person at all. What side of the majority would she fall on? He could chance it. He leaned forward, his body acting almost of its own accord, wanting to be closer to this woman who had intrigued him more than anyone ever had, not just once but on two separate occasions.
His foot edged forward before he caught himself. He blinked hard and took a deep breath. He should not be here—not in a corridor and most definitely not alone. The woman in front of him was an innocent, bright young lady. She should have nothing to do with him. At least not like this. Not improperly. He caught one last glance at the specks across her nose and cheeks, then tipped his head in a very short farewell. He turned on hisheel and strode away.
He was being ridiculous. And he wasneverridiculous. Not anymore. The farther he got from the woman, the sicker he felt to his stomach. What was it about her laugh, her skin, and her complete lack of respect for societal rules that had made him revert to a man who was so uncalculating?
Was it the fact that he had seen her before? Or was it simply that for the first time since his father had passed away, he was allowing himself the possibility of connecting with another human being? He didn’t know. Whatever had just happened was incalculable to him. An unsolvable mathematics problem that would never add up.
When the world no longer made sense, it was time to retreat. There was no pressing forward when plans made no sense, and his brash idea to simply propose to the woman was the most irrational thing to run through his head since he had been seventeen years old.
He made it back to the ballroom before realizing his abrupt departure must have been terribly rude to... to... Blast. He didn’t even know her name.
That woman.
He made his way distractedly through the crowd, nodding briefly to the men and women who tried to start a conversation as he passed. He finally reached Ottersby and greeted him with a distracted nod as well, before looking around the room. He couldn’t see her. She hadn’t returned. She must still be eavesdropping on the men playing cards. Alone. Where was the woman’s chaperone? Should he send Patience to stand with her? Patience would have no qualms about listening in on men’s gossip.
“Where’s Patience?”
Ottersby tipped his head in the direction of a large group of women. Patience was in the midst of them, laughing aboutsomething.
Interrupting a group like that would be a resounding mistake. The woman in the corridor would be all right. Her chaperone would have to go looking for her at some point.
But as the minutes ticked on, he debated the wisdom of counting on a chaperone who had lost track of her responsibility in the first place.
Just as he was about to leave Ottersby to extract Patience from the women—a task that would lead to much more blushing and flirting and simpering than he felt he could stomach—the woman in emeralds returned to the ballroom. She stood out even more than the woman in white had. Not because of her clothing or even the jewelry and ornate design of her hair. Light seemed to focus on her, leaving everyone else around her dim in comparison. He waited until she joined a small group of people to turn to Ottersby.
“Who is that?” Nicholas asked. He had asked about so many women this evening, one more shouldn’t make Ottersby suspicious.
