evening gown as on the Hungarian evening, but her hair had been more elaborately dressed, with jeweled combs winking at either side and a necklace, surely of rubies or garnets, emphasizing the delicacy of her neck. She was not, he suspected, the most fashionable lady present, her full, elegant skirts not the widest, but even this could not detract from her sheer presence. This was the duke’s daughter in her rightful environment, among her family, and she had never seemed so distant from him.
Before he could even register the pain, she turned quickly from her sister and gazed straight at the loud officer with her parents. And the expression in her eyes pierced him to the core. Not pleasure or annoyance. Fear.
It was only a momentary flash, but enough to cause an involuntary step toward her.
Annabelle caught his arm, preventing his instinctive charge to the rescue. By then, Griz was smiling. The officer took her hand, gallantly kissing it, and she laughed as he drew it free and walked on with a careless wave.
“Who is that?” Dragan asked sharply.
“Jonathan Galbraith. Her first love. Or at least first suitor. She dismissed him and never seemed to miss him. But she never looked at anyone else. Until…”
Until you? Is that what she would have said if he had not been drawing her toward Griz? A surge of yearning hit him, taking him by surprise, but he had no time to worry about such trivia while Griz was frightened or upset.
Annabelle bowed to the duke and duchess as they passed. Already engrossed with other people, the duchess spared her a quick, gracious smile in return. She did not even glance at Dragan.
Lord Forsythe was thrusting a glass of champagne into Grizelda’s hand. The officer—Galbraith—was coming up behind her, his gaze flickering beyond her to Dragan and Annabelle.
Griz glanced up with a bright smile and took a step toward them. She blinked. “Dragan! I didn’t expect you to be here.”
His heart melted at the unguarded pleasure in her voice. The odd, slightly glassy look in her eyes vanished into a welcoming smile that deprived him of breath. How had she come to mean so much so quickly? Annabelle relinquished his arm, murmuring something to her friend that he barely heard.
Griz took his arm quite naturally, and they walked away at a tangent. She was trembling, as she had been the night of the murder, but she still smiled, nodded to acquaintances.
“In here,” she breathed, leading him through an open doorway into another elegant room set up with rows of chairs. A pianoforte stood at the front of the room.
“I’m sorry,” Griz muttered, sinking onto a chair that was out of sight from the other room. “I just need a moment’s peace.”
He sat sideways on the chair in front of her, resting one elbow across its back. “I take it that was the fellow who was not your stable boy?”
She smiled a little wanly. “Am I so obvious?”
“No, you carried it off very well. I’m just sorry he still troubles you.”
She frowned. “Actually, I’m not sure he does. It was the shock, Azalea had only just warned me he was here, and then he stood right in front of me.”
“Why did she invite him?” Dragan demanded.
“She didn’t. He came home on leave, just tagged along with his brother, Lord Garrowdale. But as you know, she thinks he broke my heart.”
“Instead of your trust.”
“Exactly. I hadn’t realized before the ways in which men could…subdue women. His strength frightened me. His betrayal shocked me. Seeing him again brought it all back. But you know, I don’t believe he frightens me anymore.”
He searched her eyes. Whether or not it was true, he admired her strength and spirit. Though to be sure, he would find great pleasure in ramming the bastard’s teeth down his throat.
“You’ve never told your family, have you? Nor Annabelle Worth.”
She shook her head. “I always knew…felt I was making a fuss about nothing. He only kissed me after all. I should probably have been flattered.”
“No one should feel flattered by a forcible mauling,” Dragan said impatiently. His lips twisted. “Though to be sure, I am in no position to cast stones of that nature.”
To his surprise, a tender smile entered her eyes. She touched his hand resting on the back of the chair. “You are different.”
He turned his hand, clasping her fingers. He heard the catch in her breath, read permission in her eyes, and leaned closer to kiss her parted lips.