“I’m afraid you’re too late. I’ve had my fill of dancing for the entire Season,” she replied, waving her torn dance card in his face, her words polite but laced with icy indignation.
“For the entire Season? Then, you must accept my invitation tonight. If this is to be your last dance, we ought to make it memorable, don’t you agree?”
“You’re too kind, Your Grace,” she said at last. “But I fear there’s little you could do to make this night memorable. Now, if you’ll excuse me?—”
With a polite curtsy, she made to leave—a mere formality to escape him. The audacity made Heath laugh aloud.
“You do have a wild spirit, don’t you?” he called after her.
She paused mid-step, glancing back first in surprise, then with a frown.
“That depends. If ‘wild’ means refusing a dance I don’t desire, then yes, I suppose I have.”
“And you’re rude,” Heath added, delighted.
“You’re not the first to say so tonight,” she replied coolly. “Gentlemen often call ladies ‘rude’ when they speak their minds. I prefer the term honest.” She held his gaze, her shoulders squared with unapologetic boldness.
She had spirit—Heath enjoyed that about her. Strong, stubborn, unlike any other woman he had encountered.
He was about to say as much when Lady Sophia’s voice cut through the moment.
“Your Grace, do you intend to keep me waiting all night for our dance?” she purred, her fire-red lips puckered in a pout.
“Forgive me, Lady Sophia. I was… distracted.” His tone lacked its usual charm as he realized she seemed far less enticing suddenly.
“What could be more interesting than our dance?” Sophia pressed, swaying closer with deliberate sensuality. But her practiced allure left him cold.
His attention flicked back to his wildcat—only to find her gone.
No farewell, no excuses. She had vanished like a shadow, leaving behind only the ghost of her presence.
“Why were you talking toher?” Lady Sophia asked.
Heath sighed quietly. He almost forgot she was there. He frowned at her.
“Why do you want to know?”
“Because she’s awful… just caused a scene in the middle of a dance, rejecting a proposal!Imagine!It was allquiteimproper. I’m surprised she and her family are still in the house after that.”
Heath’s curiosity piqued. “What was her name?”
Lady Sophia’s smile turned smug. “That would be Lady Blanche Waldron, daughter of the Earl of Gooldwer. You wouldn’t believe what I’ve heard about her father…”
As Sophia kept up her gossip, Heath quietly savored his discovery.
His wildcat had a name—Blanche. And if she was looking to escape the Hunt, she had just caught the eye of the most dangerous hunter in the room.
Three
“Mother, you must eat something,” Blanche urged, lifting the untouched luncheon tray she had brought an hour earlier.
Lady Gooldwer reclined dramatically on her chaise, watching as her three pugs happily tore apart a cushion at her feet, sending a flurry of feathers into the air. “Why bother? Grief will claim me soon enough…”
Blanche exhaled, steadying her patience. It had been two weeks since they had been forced to flee the Greystone estate in the middle of the night. Two weeks since her rejection of Lord Bromley had turned her from aDuke Huntparticipant into a social pariah.
In the quiet, dusty hallways of their home, Blanche found her mind wandering back to that final night at the house party. Specifically, to the man she had collided with in the doorway.She didn’t even know his name then—only that he was a Duke, and that his hands had felt shockingly steady on her waist.
Blanche exhaled, steadying her patience. “You’ve been saying that for two weeks, and yet, here you are.”
