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“I hadn’t considered that, but it does sound like a palatable option.”
A chuckle escaped her lips. “At least you will be able to woo the lass with your dancing skills.”
“I don’t imagine the wife I have will lower herself to waltzing, of all things.”
“No?”
“No. Virtuous and of good birthing lines, as that would be her purpose. Not dancing.”
She shook her head, averting her eyes from him.
“You think otherwise?”
Sloane met his look. “It sounds like you want a horse. What woman would willingly accept that in a marriage?”
“Anyone that married me.”
Her fingers on his shoulder flipped up into the air. “Posh. Not when there is so much more to life than birthing heirs to a title.”
His eyes flipped far too fast into frosty cold. “You are an expert on what women want in a marriage?”
“I am at least of the same gender—so that makes me more of an expert than you.”
“I think you overestimate the women that would trade anything away to be a duchess.”
She shrugged. “You’re correct. I am not an expert in those women. I’ve frankly never understood them.”
“I’m going to create scandal and spin you.”
No time to prepare, the words were out of his mouth the exact moment he flung her out from his hold, spinning her under his high left hand.
The gasp in her throat ended just as his right arm clamped back about her body.
Laughter bubbled up from her chest. “That—that is what I would take over a title any day.”
His eyebrow cocked. “A dance and a spin?”
“Yes.” Her head nodded. “Aye. Absolutely. This is what I’ll wait for. Thank goodness I’ve been able to avoid the trap of chasing an almighty title.”
Reiner set them back into even steps and Sloane became acutely aware that their bodies were closer than before. Too close. The tips of her breasts grazing his chest with every step. His hold around her back clamping her more fully than before. Her neck craning her head upward just to keep eye contact with him.
This was why this dance was dangerous. Why her governess had scurried her away so quickly from it. The speed, the closeness, the spin. It sent blood pumping fast through her veins and wicked thoughts into her head. Wicked thoughts of the devilishly handsome man that was holding her captive.
The very offense of that thought hit her hard.
She shouldn’t be enjoying this—shouldn’t have laughter falling from her lips. Her gaze dipped to stare at his chest, at the cut just above his dark waistcoat and below where his cravat was tucked neatly in place.
“How many brothers do you have?”
Her head snapped backward at the question. She blinked hard, her look lifting to skewer him. “You were eavesdropping?”
He offered a slight shrug. “I heard the music stop and I was walking by to see if everyone had retired for the evening.”
“So you stopped outside the door and listened in on a private conversation? That is the very definition of eavesdropping.”
He stopped all motion, his hands abruptly dropping from her. “Vicky, you can stop.”
Vicky looked up from the music, her fingers trailing on the last few keys. “What? Why?”
