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“You are not as affected as I.” She lifted her chin higher, matching his firm tone. He was so shocked that his brows lifted across his forehead.
“You have a strong voice,” he observed, his tone quiet.
“Did you expect a lady not to have a voice at all, Your Grace? For all I have heard of your reputation, I did not believe you to think ladies were quiet mice.” Her words made that mischievous smile return on his lips. She rather liked that smile. It had a habit of making her heart thud harder. “Accept the truth, Your Grace. My reputation is the one that is destroyed, not so much your own.”
Abruptly, his head cocked to the side as he observed her. In the dim candlelight in the hallway, she could see his features were rather more statuesque than she had first thought. His cheek bones were high and could have been carved by marble. On his chin, however, there was a bristling of whiskers. He was not quite as clean shaven as other men of the ton.
“You astound me,” he whispered. “Most ladies would be shocked, terrified of what they had done to their reputation. You talk of it as if you have merely dropped a cup. Believe me, My Lady, such shattered porcelain cannot be put back together again.”
“I know.” Her adamant refusal to look cowed or embarrassed clearly made him shake his head in disbelief.
“Was this your aim?” he asked in amazement. “To destroy your own reputation?”
She didn’t answer but stepped around him, trying to get down the stairs. She barely made it two steps before her hand was caught in his.
“What are you doing?” she cried as she was dragged back up the stairs and returned to the banister on the landing.
“You cannot go yet,” he pleaded, releasing her quickly. Once more, he stood close in front of her so near that they both froze, staring at one another. “You could back up,” he reminded her.
“As could you.” Her words were a challenge, but he didn’t give in. They stood so close that had she wanted to, she could have stood on the balls of her feet and kissed the gentleman.
Never in her life had she thought of kissing the Duke of Curton before. Each time she’d seen him at a distance across ballrooms, her parents had reminded her of who he was. She had merely turned away, thinking they had no cause to move in the same circles.
This moment was very different. Standing here alone in the dim light with such intensity and fraught tones in their argument, the temptation to kiss the man was suddenly strong. She wondered if he was as passionate about kissing as he was about arguing. The idea rather tempted her.
Have I lost control of all of my reason?
“You should let me go, Your Grace.” She attempted to keep her voice level as he slowly shook his head.
“I wish to know why a lady would choose to destroy her own reputation.”
“That is my business.”
“And mine too now, in case you hadn’t noticed,” he pointed out with a sardonic smile. “Care to comment?”
“No.” She lifted her chin once again, and he matched the action, both of them lifting their heads high.
“If you are attempting to intimidate me, My Lady, may I point out you have chosen the wrong gentleman for such a task.”
“Not intimidate but warn.” She held his gaze. “Maybe you are a gentleman who is used to having his word obeyed, but you will not find me falling at your feet like a limp pup, ready to do as you command. My motivations are my secret alone. I do not have to talk of them to you.”
“This is absurd,” he muttered. “You have cast us both into the scandal sheets for this.”
“My apologies, but your name was not supposed to be the one to join me there.”
“Your intention is by the by now!” he snapped and stepped back a little. She was glad of the space, for his heady scent was making her feel faint, so she reached for the banister beside her.
How mad am I this evening that one meeting with this man can make me so attracted to him?
“You cannot go down to the ball and walk in as if nothing has happened,” he gestured down the stairs.
“There is no other way out of this ball.”
“You will be walking into a room that whispers of you. Can you stand their condemnation? Their accusations?” he asked, staring at her wide eyed. “Trust me, My Lady, I have done many such walks into rooms where you are hated for what people say of you. You have to have skin as hard as marble for such a task.”
She looked at him, feeling as if he had betrayed a small secret to her. Never had she considered what it must be like for a man such as him to walk into a room that gossiped about him.
“I suppose I thought you did not care what the ton thought,” she mused quietly. “I certainly do not care.” She stepped forward, yet this time, he did not move to stop her.
