He lifted her chin and looked down into her face. “That isn’t all I recognize,” he said softly. “You look beautiful, Katrine. There isn’t a chance in heaven that I’ll manage a single dance with you tonight.”
It was true. Katrine did look beautiful. Her blue satin gown was cut low so that the fichu tucked demurely into the décolletage only served to emphasize the creamy swell of her breasts. Her skirt was fashioned with yards of material pulled aside by twin panniers so wide she just managed to walk into the ballroom without turning sideways. No evidence of the secret she carried showed in her small waist and still-flat stomach. Her hair was left unpowdered, the glossy curls pulled high on her head and allowed to cascade down her back. Her black eyelashes and the bloom on her cheeks were her own, but the patch placed just below her left cheekbone called attention to her clear, light eyes, high cheekbones, and expressive mouth.
Resting her cheek against his velvet-clad shoulder, she succumbed to the sudden, fleeting spasm of pain that twisted through her. They had so little time left together. “You shall have as many dances as you wish,” she said fervently.
It was very clear to everyone who attended the duchess of Langley’s ball that evening that Lady Katrine Wolfe would have an extremely successful London season. The circle of her admirers completely hid her straight figure from the man who had recently entered the room.
“Who is the latest toast?” he asked his hostess, beckoning a servant who carried champagne.
“Lord Wolfe’s new bride,” replied the duchess. She looked up through her lashes at the tall, aristocratic man by her side. “Shall I introduce you, Duncan? She is quite lovely, although I confess if you flirt with her, I shall be furious.”
His lips twitched, and he brushed away an imaginary speck of lint from his shoulder. “Don’t be absurd, Lavinia. Besides, I already know the chit. She is Atholl’s daughter.”
“Then you need no introduction,” drawled the duchess. “I’m so relieved.”
Duncan Forbes set down his champagne glass on a low table and bowed politely. “I believe I’ll take the chance that she remembers me.”
Lavinia Devereaux, duchess of Langley, watched him walk away with a puzzled frown between her brows. Duncan Forbes was an enigma. A passionate Whig, he had used his position in the House of Lords to plead for lenience toward the clans. His huge fortune and impeccable lineage made him a matrimonial prize. He was nearing forty, but so far he had shown no preference for any of London’s reigning beauties. There were rumors of an unrequited love affair in Scotland, but those who were in a position to know refuted it. The duchess preferred to discount such a tale. There wasn’t a woman in Britain who would refuse his title and lands, not to mention the extremely attractive person of Lord Duncan Forbes.
Without the slightest effort on his part, bodies seemed to fall away, allowing him a clear path directly to Katrine’s side. Her eyes widened, and she blushed as he bent over her hand.
“What are you doing here, m’lord?” she asked in Gaelic.
“I might ask the same of you,” he replied in the same language, noting with satisfaction her heightened color. At least the minx had the grace to be embarrassed for jilting him so abominably.
“My husband is in the card room.”
“Do you require protection, Katrine?” His hands were at her waist.
“This dance is taken, m’lord,” she said coldly.
He ignored her. “You haven’t answered my question.”
Aware that curious stares were upon them, she placed her hand upon his arm. “We cannot be private here.” She nodded toward the French doors. “Take me to the balcony.”
His thin, perfectly molded lips curved upward in a triumphant smile. There was nothing he would rather do than be private with Lady Katrine Murray. “I am yours to command, m’lady.”
Once they were safely out of doors, she dropped her arm and whirled on him furiously. “How dare you embarrass me so. Why are you here, Duncan?”
“You have a short memory, Katrine. I live in London most of the year.” His hand clenched the snuffbox he carried. “Did you also forget that you were promised to me?”
Her cheeks were flame red. “You are not being fair, m’lord. I told you I was not indifferent to you. That is all.”
“It was enough to give me hope.”
She spoke gently. “I’m sorry for disappointing you, Duncan, but I am married now. What