Page 87 of Courting the Wrong Duke

For the briefest instant, something flickered across his face before his customary composure returned.

“Timing,” he replied with perfect seriousness. “It is an essential part of any successful performance.”

Rosalind wasn't entirely certain she believed him.

Somehow, she suspected he hadn't been acting quite as much as he imagined.

“Well,” she murmured as they took their places for the dance, “I ought to congratulate you.”

He glanced down at her. “For what?”

“My mother is now entirely convinced you are hopelessly devoted.”

William looked discreetly over his shoulder.

Sure enough, her mother was watching them with an expression of unmistakable satisfaction.

A quiet groan escaped him.

Rosalind laughed. “Oh, do not look so distressed. I believe you have just become her favorite gentleman in London.”

The dance carried them through another turn before the final notes faded and polite applause rippled through the ballroom. Around them, couples began to separate, some returning to the edges of the room while others rearranged themselves for the next set.

Neither Rosalind nor William seemed particularly inclined to move.

The orchestra began again, this time slipping into the graceful opening strains of a waltz. William's eyes met hers in silent question.

Rosalind smiled.

That appeared to be answer enough.

His hand settled lightly at her waist, and a moment later they were moving together once more beneath the warm glow of candlelight.

“You sounded positively possessive when that gentleman asked me to dance,” she murmured.

“I sounded,” William replied with perfect composure, “like a gentleman who has every intention of persuading London that he is courting the most interesting lady in the room.”

Rosalind tilted her head. “You have been practicing.”

“Only a little.”

His gaze lingered upon her for a heartbeat before he smiled. “Though I confess, you have made my task considerably easier this evening.”

She looked at him curiously. “Have I?”

“Very much so.” His expression remained composed, though there was something unexpectedly sincere in his voice when he added, “You look beautiful tonight.”

Rosalind's step faltered so slightly that no one else would have noticed. “Thank you,” she said quietly.

“It seemed only proper to tell you,” William added, clearing his throat. “A gentleman who neglected such an obvious observation would hardly make a convincing suitor.”

“Of course,” Rosalind replied.

Yet something about the explanation sounded suspiciously like an afterthought. It was then she noticed the faint flush creeping into his cheeks.

A smile tugged at her lips. “You are blushing.”

“I most certainly am not.”