Page 35 of This Marquess of Mine

Chapter Twelve

The duke is betrothed.

The words clanged through Olivia’s mind like raucous, discordant bells. She gave her head a shake as if to clear them away, certain she must have misheard.

“Betrothed?” she echoed. “But…that is impossible. There must be some mistake.”

Emmy shook her head, anger simmering in her eyes. “The young lady’s name is Jane Withers. She is the daughter of one of the duchess’s closest friends, and apparently the two mothers have long wished their children would marry…”

Olivia searched the room for Paxton, but he was no longer on the dance floor, and she could not find him in the crowd. She needed to see him, to meet his gaze and see for herself, in his eyes, that it wasn’t true. It cannot be true.

“I don’t understand,” she whispered. “Why did he never mention her to me? Why did he let me believe he was mine? He said he cared for me. He said he would marry me—” Her throat caught, and her eyes fell closed as a wave of dizziness came over her. She longed to yank off her mask and toss it to the floor. “I have to leave. I can’t stay here. I can’t—”

She turned, preparing to flee, when a hand closed around her wrist, gentle but firm. Surprise parted her lips and her gaze shot up, straight into Griffin’s fierce gray eyes.

“Don’t,” he said, his voice low and gruff. “Don’t run away. Don’t let him see your pain.” He gave her wrist a gentle squeeze. “Dance with me, Olivia.”

The quiet calm in his voice washed over her, soothing her nerves and easing the knot of panic in her chest. She nodded.

Griffin tucked her hand in the crook of his elbow and led her onto the crowded dance floor as the strains of Mozart’s Sussex Waltz began to fill the room.

Olivia did her best to hold her head high, to show everyone in the ballroom that she was fine, that she would always be fine, but her heart thudded in her ears and her lips refused to keep a smile.

Her skin prickled, as if every pair of eyes in the room was watching her, though she couldn’t bring herself to look, afraid of what she would find in their faces.

Pity. Derision. Smug satisfaction.

Paxton is betrothed.

How could it be true? After everything they’d been through, after weeks and weeks of patient waiting, he had betrothed himself to another woman.

She was too stunned to be angry with him. Her mind was hazy, sluggish, her body curiously numb, as if she’d received the news in a dream. Only she was awake, and this nightmare was all too real.

Numbly, she joined hands with Griffin, and they began to move around the dance floor in the opening steps of the waltz. Her limbs were stiff, but she did not stumble, steadied by the familiarity of the steps and the oddly comforting press of Griffin’s hands in hers.

“Olivia.” His soft voice drew her gaze to his. “Smile.”

“I am smiling,” she muttered, not at all certain it was true.

“You’re not,” he said, with a pointed look at her mouth.

He slipped a hand around her waist and pulled her in close, his fingers pressing into her flesh, warm and strong, and despite the circumstances—despite herself—a tiny shiver ghosted across her skin.

She placed her hand on his shoulder and stretched her lips into a toothy grin, the muscles in her cheeks aching with the effort.

“You look like a rabid dog,” he said, laughter shining in his eyes as he guided her around a passing couple. “Try again. With fewer teeth this time.”

The urge to roll her eyes was strong, but she batted her lashes instead and softened her smile to demure. “How is this?”

He nodded approvingly. “Better. I could almost believe you like dancing with me.”

Olivia snorted a soft laugh. “Clearly I missed my calling on the stage.”

His smile deepened. “Clearly.”

She studied him openly from behind her demi-mask, drinking in the strong planes of his face, the little lines creasing the corners of his eyes. Gratitude washed over her, warming her chest and she dropped her gaze to his evening coat.

He was a puzzle to her, this man. He did not like her and yet, here he was, dancing with her when he did not dance, all so she could salvage her pride.