Page 97 of A Mother for the Blind Duke’s Orphans

“Admire?” Hector growled.

Poppy turned toward Hector then. He could not see her expression clearly, but he knew she wanted to laugh at their friendly banter. The slight tilt of her face and the way her breath shortened when she was torn between laughter and uncertainty made him want to reach for her right there and then. He had learned her without meaning to. From every sound she made before contradicting him to the soft stillness that came over her when the children were not around.

He knew, too, what she expected now.

A ball had its customs, and a husband had his duties. She had turned toward him in that expectant way, allowing the moment to open between them. Had he been another man, he would have offered his hand. Had he been the man she deserved, he would have led her onto the floor without hesitation and made the evening even more special.

Instead, he stood as uncertainty surrounded him.

Perhaps he should allow Jasper to dance with her.

The thought made him instantly jealous. The dance floor was not treacherous to others, but to him, it was full of moving bodies, sound displaced by music, and distances that altered with every step. He could move through his own house without assistance. But dancing required confidence in space he no longer possessed. It required leading.

With Poppy in his arms, one misjudged turn would not be a private humiliation. It would be hers as well.

Jasper, damn him, understood his sudden silence.

“In the interest of my own continued health,” he said cheerfully, “I shall not ask Her Grace to dance.”

Poppy’s attention remained on Hector a moment longer.

Ask me, her silence said.

But he did not, and the change in her was minute. She released her breath too carefully and did not reproach him. Which made it worse.

Hector was grateful when Leander stepped in. “Poppy, will you do me the honor?”

She turned at once, gracious as ever, but her smile did not reach her eyes. “Of course.”

Hector listened as his wife moved away with another man, and the music began.

He stood at the perimeter of the room beside Jasper and told himself he had done the sensible thing. Poppy would enjoy the dance, and Leander would not stumble. No one would whisper that the Duke of Sterling could not guide his own wife across a floor he had ordered cleared and polished for her pleasure.

“That,” Jasper said after a time, “was painful to witness.”

Hector’s hand tightened on the cane. “If you have come only to be irritating, you may leave.”

“I did come partly for that. But not only.”

“I am relieved,” Hector said drily.

“You are a fool, Hector.”

He turned his head slightly. The shapes on the floor moved in pale and dark currents. He could distinguish Leander’s height and the lighter form of Poppy beside him, but little else. “You mistake prudence for folly.”

“No. I know prudence. I have avoided three duels and at least two engagements by prudence. That was folly.” He motioned toward Poppy and Leander.

“She wanted to dance.”

“Yes. With you.”

Hector said nothing as the music drew the dancers around the room. Poppy passed at some distance; he knew by the faint trace of her scent and by the lift in Leander’s voice as he said something that made her laugh. Hector was glad she laughed. He was glad and resentful, and ashamed of both.

Jasper’s tone softened, though not enough to become sentimental. “Would you like to know how she truly looks?”

“No.” But every part of him screamed yes.

“Her hair is dark blonde,” Jasper said, ignoring his words but not his mind. “Somewhere between gold and brown, but warmer when she turns beneath the candles. She has it arranged simply tonight. It suits her better than all those architectural constructions women put upon their heads.”