The Duke's Wife (The Three Mrs #3) - Jess Michaels Page 0,86
seeking out Ophelia in the crowd. He found her at last, standing with some old friends, laughing at something they were saying. When he reached them, his expression must have spoken for itself, for her friends backed away.
“You look very driven,” Ophelia said with a shake of her head. “What has you so intense, Nathan?”
“How many dances have you danced tonight?” he asked, almost breathless with hope.
She gave him an odd look, but removed her dance card from her reticule and fanned it out to look at it. “Er, it looks like I’ve danced six times tonight. You know, I had a dance with Louis Blankenship, the brother of the Earl of—”
Nathan shifted his weight in impatience. “Yes, but how many others have you promised?”
She pursed her lips and glanced at the card again. “It looks like two more spots are full at this point. I’m leaving my options open.”
He sucked in a breath. That would put her total at eight by the end of the night. Close to the nine Abigail had guessed. “Will you do me the most enormous favor, and also not ask me why?”
“Are you well?” Ophelia asked. “Do you have a fever?”
“Please?” Nathan asked. “I will owe you the biggest boon.”
“And I will collect it. What is the favor, then?” Ophelia sighed.
“Do not dance more than nine dances total.”
She wrinkled her brow. “I want to ask why, but you’ve already told me I cannot.” He nodded and held his breath as he awaited her answer. She shrugged. “I was already planning to limit my dances tonight so that I could appear mysterious. Very well, I will dance the other two I’ve promised and then save the remaining one for just the right man. If he ever bothers to show up.”
Nathan leaned in and quickly kissed her cheek. “Thank you.”
She shook her head. “You’re as welcome as I am confused. And that is very.”
He laughed, even as anxious excitement jolted through him. He did not often lose anything on purpose, but if he did this, perhaps it would have him on the road to win an even bigger prize: his wife’s heart.
If he could do that, then nothing else in heaven or on earth mattered.
Chapter 23
The clock in the hall was chiming three when Abigail burst into the antechamber of their room, Nathan just at her heels. She was laughing, and she turned toward him. “Did you see the way Lady Fortescue was mooning over Mr. Barnes all night? Do you think that was to make her husband jealous, or was it a true connection?”
“I have no idea,” he said, shutting the door behind himself. “But either way, they may create a scandal that will silence whatever is left of ours. Even Rhys and Pippa may benefit.”
“Oh, I hope so,” Abigail breathed. “Though I do have to say that it was a stroke of genius to invite the Duke and Duchess of Abernathe and of Willowby. They were so kind to Rhys and Pippa, almost protective. I think their fortunes were raised by the implied friendship.”
Nathan tilted his head. “The fact that you care so much about everyone else’s happiness is one of my favorite things about you.”
She hesitated as the warmth of those words washed over her, but it was followed swiftly by a twinge of discomfort. He looked at her like he could see deep into her soul. She feared he could, and the last time she had allowed such a thing, it had ended so badly.
“Nathan—” she began softly.
He arched a brow. “I know exactly what you’re going to say. You are going to crow.”
“Crow?” she repeated with a shake of her head. “Over what?”
“Come now,” he said, clucking his tongue as he slowly began to circle her. “Don’t start being a good winner now. You bested me at our wager…again.”
She worried her lip. She had been keeping track of Ophelia’s number of dances throughout the night and she was very aware that she had won. And now it seemed he was willing to move on to that subject from the far more tender one.
She smiled. “Indeed, I have.”
“And now I owe you a dark secret.”
She moved a step toward him, growing more serious because she sensed real pain beneath the playfulness. “Nathan, I know we wagered this, but I do not hold you to it.”
He wrinkled his brow. “You wouldn’t dig into the grave?”
“Not if it will cause you pain.”
He let his breath in a small laugh. “Of course you wouldn’t.” He