Enchanting the Duke - Lana Williams Page 0,33

shifted to look over the guests, and she nodded at several before her eyes met his once more. “Your timing and rhythm are excellent in other areas.”

His chuckle surprised them both. But how could he hold back his amusement when she said something so outrageous?

Soon their hosts joined the guests in the ballroom and the duchess signaled for the music to begin. He was more than relieved to realize he knew the steps to it. However, he couldn’t help a pang of unease at being the center of attention along with the other dancers while doing something he rarely did. He escorted Eleanor to the dance floor, and they lined up with the others to bow and curtsy before beginning.

Douglas watched the other men out of the corner of his eye to make certain he didn’t take a misstep. Then his attention shifted to Eleanor as he realized this was another area where she was gifted with grace and talent.

She moved with the music, her expression suggesting just how much she was enjoying herself. Then her gaze met his as they joined together for the next few steps. Once again, he realized how much he liked her as a person. She was entertaining, an excellent listener, and found pleasure in nearly everything she did.

But it was more than that. His feelings were much deeper, and if he weren’t careful, the more time they spent together, the more his feelings would grow.

Would that be so terrible? A quiet voice in his head posed the question. He waited for a response from the other voice, which continually reminded him of his duties, to firmly squash the question.

He heard nothing but silence.

The evening was much more enjoyable than Douglas could’ve guessed. He and Eleanor visited with the other couples, danced several more times, and enjoyed a glass of champagne. The additional guests who came for the ball made for quite the crush.

Douglas had been speaking with Burbridge for several minutes when Burbridge stepped away to assist a guest, leaving Douglas alone for a moment. If one could be alone among that many people.

An older gentleman a short distance away gave him an odd look and moved closer, holding a nearly empty glass of champagne. By the glaze in his eyes, Douglas guessed it wasn’t his first.

“Good heavens, but you’re the spitting image of your father.” The man continued to stare.

“Excuse me?” Douglas didn’t think he’d ever met the man before.

“You have to be the son of Charles Slade. You look just like him.” The man leaned close as if to tell him a secret. “He and I used to have more than our fair share of fun if you know what I mean. That is until he met your mother.” He shook his head. “The two of them did their best to enjoy life.”

Douglas stared at him, no response coming readily to mind. He was both curious and strangely reluctant to hear what the man had to say.

“Thank goodness the previous duke passed or you’d be in the same circumstances as your father.”

“And what would those be?”

The man’s scorn was evident in the twist of his lips. “Being ruled by an iron thumb. As I’m certain you know, he refused to allow your father to have any say in the duchy. Naturally, your father found other ways to amuse himself. But once he connected with your mother, she only had to give him a look to have him come running. He not only lost his heart to her but his soul as well.”

Douglas’s chest tightened at the ridiculous description. Yet memories flew through his mind, confirming how apt it was. His father had loved his mother, but his mother had only been interested in the title he was to inherit and the riches she was sure would follow.

“Your mother acted like the duchess she never was. And she spent money like it as well.” He shook his head again. “Love ruined your father, though he was never a strong person to begin with.” He cast a glance to where Eleanor stood not so far away. “I hope you don’t allow the same thing to happen to you.”

Wasn’t that what he’d done? Already softened in his resolve and duties because of Eleanor? She had found her way under his skin, much like an itch he couldn’t scratch properly. She was never far from his thoughts. Was he in danger of becoming like his father and casting away what was truly important—all for a woman?

As