Page 64 of This Marquess of Mine

Warmth flooded her cheeks, and she gave him a scolding look. “You know that is not what I meant.”

His smile deepened as he whirled her around the dance floor, and he fell silent for a long moment, his eyes thoughtful, as if examining a truth he’d never considered before.

A rare moment of uncertainty from the ever-confident Marquess of Keswick.

“I like women, of course,” he said finally, the words slow and measured like a newly-born thought. “And I am well aware of my reputation as a prolific lover. I have done nothing to refute it because what I do is nobody’s business but my own.”

Olivia pressed her lips together. If only women were afforded the same freedoms.

“I enjoy lovemaking, but I am not some rutting beast.” His voice was quiet, his eyes serious and steady on hers. “When I take a lover, it is because I want her. Because I like her and enjoy spending time with her.”

She nodded her understanding, even as envy thickened her throat and tightened her chest. Her gaze fell to the simple folds of his white cravat and she briefly closed her eyes. What was it like, being Griffin’s lover? Being desired by him? Chosen by him? What was it like to have more of him than she’d already had?

What was it like to have all of him?

She looked up at his face, a tangle of emotions tying her belly in knots. “Did you love them?” she asked, before she could stop herself.

His gaze met hers and he smiled. “No.”

It was one of his enigmatic smiles, equally irresistible and irritating, and Olivia could not tell whether he was laughing at her or at himself. She fought to keep her expression clear, trying to sort through her emotions. Was it silly to feel relieved? Griffin did not love her, but neither did he love someone else. That shouldn’t matter, but somehow it did.

Foolish girl.

Blessedly, the music drew to a close, signaling an end to the waltz. Olivia pasted a smile on her lips and exited the dance floor on Griffin’s arm.

Her gaze collided with Paxton’s on the way back to her supper box, and the unhappy look on his face filled her with guilt, but she shoved the feeling away. She had done nothing wrong. He was not her husband nor even her betrothed, and there was no reason she should not dance with other men.

“Thank you for the dance, my lord,” she said to Griffin as they neared the supper box, tossing him an airy smile.

“The pleasure was all mine, petal.”

His voice was a husky whisper, intended only for her ears, and Olivia’s throat went dry as a desert. She tore her gaze from his and swallowed hard, struggling for composure as tingles skittered up and down her body.

Dratted man.

Were his intimate words and affectionate looks genuine? Or was it all for Paxton’s benefit?

It all felt so real, so thrilling, but how could she trust her own senses where Griffin was concerned?

And if it was real, what did it even matter? What would it change?

Straightening her shoulders, she shoved the last remnants of their waltz from her mind and entered the supper box, her smile and her self-preservation firmly restored.

Griffin’s behavior was baffling and intriguing, but she could not allow him to distract her from her goal. She could not afford to play the fool again. Not when she was so close to securing the future she’d worked so long and so hard for.

She’d come too far to squander her time on fantasies best left abandoned.