“The decision rests with the Lord Chancellor?—”
“I see.” Heath clicked his tongue. “Then I would suggest that you take care not to earn my displeasure.”
Harrow rushed to agree. Heath gave a curt nod. “Shall we expect you for dinner tomorrow then?”
Without another word, he finished his whisky and placed the empty glass in the stunned Earl’s hands.
The conversation was over.
As he made his way toward the ballroom, Heath considered that Harrow’s blunder had revealed something rather interesting—the old Lords were desperate to preserve their so-called moral values within their circles. Their rigid expectations, their obsession with propriety, had always seemed tiresome to him.
The Lord Chancellor was punishing him over a ridiculous assumption that he had coveted the man’s wife. He was not the first to hold such suspicions, and he certainly would not be the last. The rumors would continue, the whispers would persist, unless, of course, he gave them no reason to murmur.
A wife,Heath mused inwardly, his fingers idly grazing the smooth fabric of his sleeve.How amusing it is that sucha simple arrangement might silence them all. Perhaps the Dowager’s Hunt has a purpose after all.
The idea was tempting—terribly so. Not because he desired companionship, nor the tender affections that came with matrimony. No, Heath had long abandoned such sentimental notions. But a wife could serve a purpose.
Perhaps,he thought, with a wry smile curling at the edge of his lips,it is time I consider such expectations. If marriage could strengthen my ambitions, why not entertain the idea?
For now, it was merely a thought taking root. A seed of contemplation. But that thought was shattered the moment Heath reached for the ballroom door—only for it to swing open suddenly and strike him square in the shoulder.
At first, Heath wasn’t sure what had hit him. He barely staggered, although he did feel a tug at his side.
“What the devil—?” he muttered, instinctively reaching out as the wild creature who had burst through the door nearly lost her footing. His hands found her waist before she could fall.
“Oh, my goodness! Please forgive me for my clumsiness!”
Heath looked down—and found himself staring into dark green eyes. Her bodice was askew, curls escaping wildly, her cheeks flushed.
“You look like a proper wildcat,”he said before he could stop himself.
“I apologize, my Lord…” she began, then faltered. Her eyes dropped—and widened. Heath followed her gaze and realized his hands were still at her waist. He let go at once—though, to his annoyance, he already missed the feel of the curve of her waist.
“It’s Your Grace.” Heath stepped back a little and bowed, never taking his eyes off her. He couldn’t, not with her beauty. “Duke of Woodrey. I’m delighted to meet you, Lady…?”
She curtsied in haste. “Would you mind if I get past you, Your Grace? I need to get on my way.”
Heath only then realized he was standing squarely in the doorway, blocking her path.The wildcat wasn’t in the mood for conversation—an odd fact that, for some reason, only made him want to speak with her all the more.
“Won’t you tell me who I have had the pleasure of rescuing tonight?” he asked, a teasing smile playing on his lips.
The lady’s wild expression faded, replaced by a sudden, cool composure. “Thank you forrescuingme, Your Grace,” she said overly politely. “But it has been a long and rather eventful day. I would be most grateful if you would allow me to take my leave.”
Heath’s smile lingered as he studied her, intrigued by the effortless way she eluded him. Women didn’t usually play thisgame—not with him. Yet here she was, offering mystery instead of eagerness.
“You truly intend to leave me in suspense?” he mused, folding his hands behind his back as if settling into the chase.
A challenge.
“Please don’t toy with me, Your Grace,”she said, her voice even but cool. “I assume you heard the raised voices earlier?” It almost sounded like a challenge she was giving him. She lifted her chin and practically glared at him.
Heath raised his eyebrows.
“There was shouting? I must have missed it.” He gave a half-smile. “Though I’d hardly choose to stand between you and anyone on the receiving end of your ferocity.”
“That was me being perfectly civil, I assure you.” There was nothing meek in the way she met his gaze. Other ladies lowered their eyes, flushed prettily, and attempted to charm with false sweetness. But—whoever she was—watched him without hesitation.
“Then allow me to appease your good grace and lead you to the dance floor,” Heath said, offering his arm.
