Page 75 of When the Duke Met His Match

Swallowing back her dread, she placed her hand in his and allowed him to sweep her toward the formation of dancers. The thought of dancing with anyone but Theophilus made her stomach turn.

The orchestra began playing a new song, to which the man lifted his chin as if he were of high esteem and began to lead her.

Odette was aware of her half mask and wished it covered her entire face. Forcing a pleased smile quickly became a chore.

“What a curious type of ball,” he began, following the steps accordingly. “Masquerades are my favorite, even if it is nearly impossible to discover the identity of your dancing partner. However, that fact thrills me.”

She had thought the same thing before, how it was almost a scandalous idea, but with that man inspecting her so closely, she couldn’t help but feel infringed upon. “Indeed.”

The dance continued to her dismay, and the feeling of his gaze securely on her was nothing but uncomfortable. Reluctantly, she met his eyes from time to time, only to avert them and feign interest in the people around them or the décor.

“I must say, you are a curious creature,” he murmured, grip rather tight on her hand as he spun her. “It would please me to uncover who you are. Perhaps my questions will do exactly that.”

Squeamish at the thought, she smiled back at him. “You are welcome to try.”

This seemed to delight him, and he hummed behind his mask. “I believe I detect an accent in your voice. Where are you from?”

“France,” she answered foolishly, quick to bite her tongue. “I moved to England as a child and don’t remember anything of it.”

While it was a slip-up, she awaited his response, wondering if it would help to determine if he was one of the rebels playing as an Englishman.

His small gasp made her heart clench. “Interesting. My family comes from a line of very wealthy men. Although, I suppose I shouldn’t tell you how they acquired their money, for that might give me away."

Releasing a discreet breath, Odette knew he wasn’t one of the rebels. Certainly, none of them would seem so eager to talk about themselves like this.

The dance continued, feeling like the longest one she had ever endured, and she braved each of his questions. The man was persistent, yet she managed to lie just enough to force him in circles.

With great relief, the dance came to an end, and she curtsied to him, even if she would rather not. Before she could leave, his voice grated against her senses.

“Excuse me. I feel I was close to uncovering your identity, and I can’t stomach the thought of letting anyone else make that discovery,” he began nervously yet with surprising boldness. “Would you entertain me with another?”

Thankful to be aware of the rules of ball etiquette, Odette took a step away from him. “It is unbecoming to take too many turns with one individual.”

“Yet our identities are concealed. No scandal should follow us.”

“What if I hoped to save a second dance for later in the evening?” she proposed, hoping it would get him away from her.

He straightened up at that and nodded. “I will respect your wishes and wait for that moment to arrive.”

Sighing to herself, Odette turned away from him and quickly found herself swept into another dance with someone else.

Fortunately, the gentlemen in attendance seemed rather eager to dance with her, which helped keep the other man at bay for some time. However, she often felt his eyes on her while she danced with the others, eagerly awaiting another turn with her.

It made her cringe, unable to stand the thought of being near him again.

As she danced with the others, they asked the same sort of questions, bashfully delighted by the game set in place by the ball’s theme. However, she didn’t find anyone who seemed to fit the description of any French rebels.

When her feet grew tired after several dances, Odette wanted nothing more than to sit and have a moment of respite.

“Excuse me!”

A chill ran down her spine, discarding that thought from her mind. Alarmed and unwilling to partner with the mysterious man again, she began in the other direction, hoping to lose him in the crowd.

“Miss, may I have another—”

Pushing through the people as politely as she could, they parted enough to let her through without a word. To her luck, the man’s voice disappeared from the group.

She hoped he would forget about her sooner rather than later.