Page 42 of To Ensnare a Duke

I cannot take a wife who cannot even remain conscious in the midst of my punishments. For a bit there, I thought maybe I could take her. Maybe I could fashion her into both the duchess and the whore. But it's not to be. Better I found that out last night than in our wedding chambers.

Leading the two back to the entrance, I escort them home, my mind buzzing with the ramifications of tonight's ball. Now that the men of the Ton have seen Augusta again, they will no doubt be clamoring for her hand in a dance. It's up to me to make sure only those suitable to her delicate predisposition toward sex be the ones to actually make an overture.

Even now, I watch as Lord Harhall dips his hat as she rides by, his lips twitching with a devious smile. I'll have to keep my wits about me now that he's caught her scent. For him to catch her eye would be most unsuitable indeed.

"It's an absolute crush," some omega cries to her friends, her voice lifting in the air as we enter the ballroom.

Behind us, more names are announced, drawing glances at each turn. Thankfully, their eyes are off of Augusta and onto the next debutant. My cock pulses as I stare at the dusky pink dress, almost the exact shade as the petals guarding her quim. Did the chit somehow plan that?

Based on her bored expression as the other girls simper and laugh around her, I think not. If she had, I'm sure she'd be preening and thrusting out her large breasts, showing it off to anyone who would see. Instead, she seems almost like a wallflower.

"Is this ball not to your liking?"

She blinks up at me before looking out over the crowd. "I suppose I didn't realize just how far from society my family kept me. I fear I know no one at all."

"That's not true," I scoff, pointing out Norhaven and Redleigh.

"Yes, but they are your friends. Not mine."

"Do you not consider Miss Cynthia Campbell to be a friend?"

She follows my gaze, a soft smile teasing her lips. "I feel as though we can become friends. But our time has always been too short."

The woman in question walks over with her mother and gives a soft bow. "Miss Hunt, don't you look exceptional tonight?"

I lean in, anxious to hear her response. This will confirm or deny the irrational thoughts running through my head in an ever-widening loop.

"Thank you,” she says, far more demure than I expect. “Aunt Amelia gave her specifications. I merely stood there for measurements.” But then, her lips widen into a wide, possibly genuine smile. “It's certainly not as beautiful as your stunning gown."

Miss Campbell blushes and turns toward the crowd. "Quite a crush."

"Indeed."

I roll my neck on my shoulders as the two cackle on, exchanging pleasantries. This is the part of the balls that I cannot stand. Normally, I'd be with the other men, but with the way the others circle, I cannot part from Augusta's side for even a moment.

One by one, the men approach, filling in her dance card. Most of them seem to cower before my stern gaze, the pencil trembling in their grasps as they dare steal a number. Augusta simply smiles at them in her coquettish way, encouraging them all to take one or two.

At least the girl won't be bored. Heaven forbid she actually becomes bored.

Harhall makes his way toward us, his cocky grin affixed to his face. Pulling Augusta closer to me, I whisper into her ear. "When he asks for a dance, you will politely tell him your card is full."

Her eyes widen as she blinks up at me, her face a study in innocence. "But, Your Grace, it is not. I still have a few dances needing a partner."

"No, you don't. Your card is full enough as it is."

"But see here there are several-"

"He is unsuitable."

"Why?" Her tone sharpens as she stares me down. "This is an elite gathering. Surely-"

"I know things you do not and shall not. Will you do as I command?"

"If it is as you say…"

"It is."

Her lips purse together as she runs her closed fan along her palm. Hopefully she'll do as I demand.