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“I beg your forbearance,” he chuckled, and Alice was once again surprised by his seemingly sanguine nature. “Shall I continue?”
“I suppose you must, if only to redeem yourself,” Alice said, and she looked at him curiously as he guided her in the dance. “Nothing I say dismays you, does it?”
“Not in the least. Now let me see if I can impress you,” he said with a broad, enchanting grin. “If I were to ask for an investment, which I am not, but if I were, I would ask for an investment in the lives of the normal, hard-working folk of Hampshire. I would ask for investment for food on their tables, roofs above their heads, in good, honest work to fulfill their daily lives and give them purpose.”
They had reached the moment in the dance where they were physically closest. Mr. Alegria’s words were whispered directly into her ear, and her breath caught in her throat at the sensation his own breath caused when it touched her skin. She felt a tingling in her spine that she had never before experienced, and she almost closed her eyes to savor the sweet feeling.
The dance required him to move back as he executed a turn, and Alice felt the loss of his touch keenly before he came back and said, "Tell me now, Miss Fitzroy. Have I been more captivating than the horse-mad gentleman?"
Alice could not respond for a moment. He had so shocked her with his words and his touch. Her attraction to him was wholly unexpected and not at all welcome.
She had vowed never to marry or have a child to carry on the Duke's name. Yet, for the first time since that pledge, she felt the desire for something more curl in the depths of her belly. She thought it would be easy to remain unwed. After all, most of gentleman of thetonwere worthless, underhanded schemers. Mr. Alegria seemed to be something entirely different.
He presented himself as a man with values who championed the plight of the working class. If that was true, he was precisely the sort of man she could see herself marrying. Which was why she determined to never dance with him again. He was far too dangerous to her. However, since they were mid-dance, she decided she might as well enjoy the moment.
"Perhaps, Mr. Alegria," she replied, hoping she appeared more unaffected than she was. "Why don't you continue, and we shall see?"
CHAPTERFIVE
Marco could not take his eyes off Miss Fitzroy’s face. Her skin shone like pearls, almost unearthly in its paleness, yet it was speckled all over with the most charming freckles. He longed to stare at them for hours, to see if he could find particular patterns within them, like gazing at the stars. Still, he shook himself and endeavored to answer her question.
“My factory employs hundreds of workers, men, women, and children, all toiling and contributing to society. An investment in my factory is not just an investment in the cloth that covers your bed or adorns your body." At this, he brushed his fingers against the top edge of her glove, barely touching her skin. He relished the way she shivered at that little caress. "Money spent on my business is money spent on everyone, Miss Fitzroy."
He looked into her eyes then. The warm honey brown blending with flecks of golden fire. He was reminded of a wild lynx he had seen in the southern mountains of Italy when he was a child. Their ferocity, the leonine intensity, nearly took his breath away. Before he could think of something else to say, the musicians played the final refrain. She immediately stepped back, away from his touch, and curtseyed with all the propriety and grace of a lady born to be a princess.
“I see,” Miss Fitzroy said quietly. “I must indeed congratulate you, Mr. Alegria, on a most compelling proposal. I daresay I am almost disappointed it was not genuine."
Marco’s heart seemed to skip a beat at the implication. He found he could not tell if she was in jest or earnest, and he realized that was tantalizing. He shook his head with a chuckle and offered her his arm, which she took, her hand fitting firmly into his elbow.
“Alas, a ball is no place for business,” he said with a light laugh as he walked her back to her mother. Risking a moment of audacious flirtation, he added, “And a lady as lovely as yourself should be treated like a queen and not be forced to endure anything so mundane as talk of industry."
He felt her potent, animalistic gaze fall on him then. For a moment, he had the disquieting yet exciting feeling of being assessed, as if Miss Fitzroy was deciding if he were friend or foe, prey or predator. Then she looked away with a flick of her golden-red hair.
“And here I had such high hopes for you, Mr. Alegria. But even you could not resist slipping into the cliches of flirtation." She sighed with an air of mock irritation and shook her head solemnly. "How could I take such a proposal seriously when you so blatantly seek to flatter me?"
Marco grinned. He could not help but admire her ready wit, strong mind, and how every word he spoke seemed to slide right off her like water from a duck's back. He imagined that she was used to dismissing compliments, unsure if any of them were ever genuine. He was suddenly saddened that such an exquisite jewel of a lady had to doubt her own allure. Society had made her unsure of her own merit, linking her so closely to her dowry. He felt an urgent need to change that.
“I am afraid, Miss Fitzroy, that you shall not find any proposal without flattery,” he said with forceful earnestness. “But I can assure you that every word of flattery you hear from me is entirely earned by you and you alone.”
She raised her eyebrows at his vehement words, and he wondered if she would brush the compliment away as any other young lady might do. But she merely inclined her head as if she were indeed royalty and let go of his arm as they reached her waiting mother. He felt an incredible sense of mournfulness. He didn't understand how a lady he had just met could have roused such intense feelings inside of him.
“I do not believe you were properly introduced to my mother,” Alice said. “Mr. Alegria, allow me to present the Dowager Duchess Fitzroy.”
At Miss Fitzroy’s words, Marco felt a part of his brain reawaken that had been silent throughout their dance. Suddenly, all his reasons for seeking Miss Fitzroy out rushed back to him.
Thomas. The fire. Her father. His revenge.
But when he looked at her, Marco felt dismay building inside of him. His plan to seduce and ruin her suddenly seemed barbaric, but so did the notion of letting Thomas's murder go unpunished.
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Alegria,” the Dowager Duchess said. “I hope you enjoyed your dance with my daughter.”
“Indeed I did, Your Grace,” Marco said, bowing respectfully. He needed to withdraw. Needed time to think, and every moment spent in Miss Fitzroy’s presence seemed to cloud his judgment as if she were a fairy maiden who had cast a spell upon him. “But I am afraid I must now take my leave of you both and return to my cousin."
“Thank you for a delightful dance, Mr. Alegria,” Alice said, smiling at him tightly. The more unrestrained smiles she had given him during their dance seemed to have retreated. Marco was struck by the urge to bring them out again. To make her laugh and see her face split with humor. “I fear you have ensured that every proposal and attempt at flattery I receive from now on will seem subpar."
“I hope I have set a standard worthy of you, Miss Fitzroy,” Marco said, charmed by her candor.
“I doubt any other gentleman could outshine you,” Alice said. Her words were flattering, but her tone was devoid of the softness and flirtatious manner he expected from ladies of theton.If she was flirting with him, she was doing it in such an astonishingly forthright way that it was actually delightful. Marco tried to settle the feelings inside him, overwhelming intrigue balanced with his rage at her father. Shocking himself out of his musings by the reminder, he bowed formally and tried to avoid her gaze.
