Then he turned and disappeared through the crowd.
She stared after him in dismay. How could he simply walk away after saying such a thing? And how could she survive the next few days with the images his words had conjured up running amok through her brain?
Irrationally, she considered chasing after him. What did her pride or reputation matter, when she’d been denied her heart’s desire?
But then she saw the reason for his hasty retreat. Neptune approached, ready to claim his dance.
* * *
Dylan watched from the gallery above the dance floor as Michael offered Natalia his arm. She smiled and accepted, but she seemed distracted.
Despite Michael’s untimely interruption, Dylan knew he’d gained a remarkable amount of ground. She’d invited him to meet her in the park, where she’d be chaperoned by nothing more than a groom.
Foolish girl.
He felt a momentary twinge of guilt about the white lies he’d told to earn her trust. Hedidwant her dowry. Dear Lord, who wouldn’t? But he felt safe pretending disinterest, because they both knew he could never have it.
She hated the fact that every suitable young man in England chased after her because she was a great heiress. She wanted to be wanted for herself—something he found far too easy to understand.
Unfortunately, the rest of what he’d told her was true. He did want to kiss her. He also wanted to dance with her; not because of the bet, but because he wanted to know how she’d feel in his arms.
He shifted, confused by his own emotions. She drew him for reasons he didn’t understand. With each encounter, he found himself even more infatuated.
His previous conquests lacked Natalia’s innate sweetness and tender, caring nature. Gentle and soft-spoken, she reminded him of his mother. A true lady.
But she also possessed a hidden core of fire, and he was dying to ignite the flames.
An uneasy frown pulled at the corners of his mouth as he watched the object of his pursuit twirl across the dance floor in his brother’s arms. Jealousy clawed in his gut as he realized how very much he envied his brother the ability to court Lady Natalia Sinclair in truth.
“You don’t seem to be having much luck, Blake.”
Dylan whirled around at the sound of Jonathan’s smug voice, instantly on the defensive. “I still have a week,” he reminded his nemesis. “And I’m making progress.”
Jonathan laughed. “Is that why you’re up here and your brother is dancing with the lady in question?”
Dylan leaned against the rail and strove to maintain a casual pose. “Michael wants to marry the girl. I simply want to dance with her. We have two entirely different agendas.”
Jonathan nodded. “Oh, I see. You have absolutely no desire to get your hands on Lady Natalia’s dowry.”
“Why are you trying so hard to provoke me?” Dylan asked, irritated. “Are you still angry I took your spot on the polo team all those years ago?”
Jonathan flushed and looked away. “Of course not.”
“Then what’s this about? Are you trying to stir up trouble for Lady Natalia? Perhaps because you’ve had even less luck with her than I?”
“Don’t be absurd.” Jonathan glared at Dylan, his anger so far out of proportion to the question that Dylan felt certain his barb had been correct. “Quit trying to change the subject, Blake. You only have a week left. I suggest you make the most of it.”
“Oh, I will,” Dylan called, as Jonathan walked away. “You can count on it.”
Chapter Six
“I think you’re very wise to set your cap for Viscount Sherbourne.”
Startled, Natalia glanced up at her stepmother, Clarice. “Sherbourne? Whatever makes you think I’m interested in him?”
They sat in the duchess’s lovely little morning room, which she’d decorated soon after her marriage to Natalia’s father two years ago. Clarice’s pale skin and white-blond hair were a lovely contrast to the ice blue and gold color scheme, as she’d no doubt known they would be.
Clarice laughed. “Well, you allowed him to call on you, which was certainly a first. And I saw your face when you talked to him at the masque. You positively glowed.”
