How to Fool a Duke (The Husband Dilemma #1) - Lancaster, Mary Page 0,34
proposal, he had not offered it. What if he merely wanted revenge on the chit who had fooled him? If she believed in his courtship, in the warmth of true friendship growing between them… If she kissed him and lost the wager… well then, she lost everything.
Have I not already lost my heart? If she hadn’t, would her gaze have flown around the inn’s upper hall in immediate search of him?
She saw him at once, tall and immaculately well groomed, talking to Jenny the harpist, a shy young lady who had become a friend of Sarah’s. Jenny was also extremely pretty, and Sarah was ashamed to acknowledge she would have been jealous had the other girl’s gaze not flickered so frequently to Mr. James, who stood nearby.
“Miss Sarah!” cooed Lady Loxley, offering a slightly limp but perfectly gloved hand. “How lovely to see you here. I was afraid you might have taken some hurt after your terrible experience yesterday.”
“Oh, no. The only casualty was my dignity,” Sarah assured her.
“And Vexen’s,” Lady Loxley reminded her gently.
Sarah laughed. “Oh, no. I’m sure His Grace enjoyed the adventure.” She passed on to let the last of the guests be greeted.
She and Hammy were making their way toward Lady Whitmore when the trio of musicians in the far corner—all friends of Sarah’s—struck up a country dance.
A poet by the name of Lovelace stood in front of her, smiling. “Miss Sarah, will you do me the honor?”
It was a lively dance, guaranteed to banish anxiety and awkwardness, and Sarah thoroughly enjoyed it. If she found time to note—with amusement—that Leonard danced in the other set, partnered by the sculptress of the statue of the mischievous child, well it detracted nothing from the fun of the dance.
From there, she was swept straight into another dance with Lord Trenton and was ridiculously thrilled to see Leonard watching her broodingly from one corner of the room.
“Won’t you make me happy by promising me the next dance also?” Lord Trenton asked as they twirled together near the end of the set.
“Oh, not the next one!” she pleaded. “I must sit it out, or I shall expire!”
Lord Trenton laughed good naturedly. “Then at least allow me to fetch you wine? Or lemonade.”
“Either would be most welcome.” She took his arm as the dance came to a close, and he began to escort her back toward Hammy. Her heart gave a funny little lurch when she saw the gentleman seated beside her old governess. Leonard.
He stood, bowing with his always perfect grace. “I’m very glad to see you recovered,” he said gravely.
“Likewise,” she replied.
“Allow me to fetch that lemonade,” Trenton said. “Miss Hammy, may I bring you anything?”
Sarah never heard Hammy’s answer. She was lost in Leonard’s compelling gaze, in the memory of what those exquisite lips could do.
He held out his hand. “Dance with me?”
She swallowed. “I just told Lord Trenton I was too tired to dance again.”
“It’s a waltz,” Leonard observed as the opening strains began. “Barely dancing at all.”
A breath of laughter shook her.
“Go on,” he encouraged. “Trenton may have another dance instead, after all.”
Hammy was frowning at her, scandalized that she might turn down a request to dance with a duke. And yet, when she took his hand, it was because she wanted to.
“That’s my girl,” he said, leading her onto the floor.
“I am not,” she pointed out crossly.
“Not yet.” He turned and took her into his arms. Heat swept through her, and he took her by surprise, beginning to dance before she was ready. She stumbled the first steps, annoyed with herself for being so clumsy and gauche, hardly the way to endear herself to this man.
But he did not appear to notice. His gaze held hers as surely as his arm held her body. She recovered quickly, following his guide, his rhythm. His nearness, the almost-touch of his body, excited her.
He smiled, his thumb stroking against her palm. “I have always wanted to dance with you.”
“Yes, I imagine it was your first thought when you saw the urchin hurling apples at your coach.”
“Ah, she throws an accurate fruit, I said to myself, but can she waltz with the grace of a gliding swan?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t mention swans to me, Leonard Vexen.”
A breath of laughter escaped him. “I apologize for the lake. But you must admit it was effective. Another few minutes, and our friends would have come upon us alone together, and seen you with your hair wild and tumbled. Exactly like a