Tall, Duke, and Dangerous (Hazards of Dukes #2) - Megan Frampton Page 0,47

pressed into a disapproving line. At least Ana Maria supposed it was disapproval; the Carlyles, who were giving the party that evening, were renowned for their excellent hospitality, so she didn’t think it had anything to do with the food and beverage.

As if on cue, a footman passed by carrying a tray of what looked to be the tiniest of finger sandwiches—pinkie sandwiches, actually—with a festive topping of a few pieces of green something and an olive.

She nodded when the footman met her gaze, and he handed her one of the treats on top of a small square of fabric. Thaddeus picked two of them up, popping one into his mouth and chewing efficiently. Of course.

The sandwich was even more delicious than it appeared—the bread was warm, as though it had just come from the oven, and the filling was a pȃté with a fig spread.

“Oh, that’s good,” she said, surreptitiously sticking her finger in her mouth to catch a drop of the spread.

She met his gaze across the room, and her eyes widened at the intensity she saw there. A hunger, as though she was a delicious sandwich herself, and he was starving.

Was he starving?

And if he was, why wouldn’t he feast? It wasn’t as though there was any pretense between them. She’d laid it all out for him. She’d said it wouldn’t mean anything. That he’d be helping her.

Except the small fact that she had thought about him in a certain way for a very long time and she’d never admitted it to anyone, not even herself.

So maybe there was pretense. But there didn’t have to be.

“I’ll go say hello to Nash and his grandmother,” Ana Maria said, wishing she didn’t sound so out of breath. So breathless.

“Excellent. I will be in the gaming room.”

Ana Maria looked at Thaddeus in surprise.

“Not gaming, of course. But I find the people I most wish to speak to are most often to be found in the gaming room. It makes logical sense. They are good at calculating risk, and so they like to prove their own competency.”

Ana Maria nodded, not quite understanding, but not needing to. Thaddeus did not like to dance at parties, didn’t seem to like parties very much in general, so it was to be expected he’d find the least party-like atmosphere possible.

Heaven help it when—or if—he fell in love. He’d have to deal with all sorts of illogical emotions.

“Well,” she said, suppressing a grin, “I will meet up with you later.”

“Yes.”

She turned to find the quickest way to reach him, still aware of his gaze on her, a gaze that hadn’t seemed to waver when she was speaking to Thaddeus. No wonder other young ladies hadn’t yet discovered his charm; he was thoroughly and entirely focused on her, which would dissuade anybody who even thought about deepening an acquaintanceship.

Perhaps that was more the problem than his general gruntiness.

She paused, wondering if she should share her insight with Thaddeus when a sharp, and not altogether altruistic, emotion bubbled up inside. If he was focused on her, then he’d be . . . focused on her.

Which was a pleasant thought. Or more than pleasant, actually. A surge of something she thought might be desire, might even be passion, coursed through her, making her feel warmer than she already was.

Oh dear.

“Good evening, my lady.”

Lord Brunley stood in front of her, making her draw up abruptly. He didn’t look at all as though their last encounter had included a fire poker, a large, brutish duke, and the spillage of what she presumed was excellent alcohol.

He looked—smug. As though she should be honored by his condescension.

Really. Were all men this clueless, or was it just her luck to know the especially clueless ones?

Whatever the answer was, it was not a good answer.

“Good evening, my lord. If you will excuse me—?” She hated that her voice rose up at the end, as if she were asking his permission.

“I spoke with your cousin, the Duke of Hasford, and he seemed to regard my courting you as a good thing.”

Lord Brunley was clueless when dealing with people of both genders. Very egalitarian of him.

“And I would like to begin again, if I may. I realize I might have seemed overly—”

“Aggressive?” Ana Maria blurted.

He looked annoyed. Which was better than smug, so she’d take it.

“Infatuated, I was going to say.” He frowned, giving her a sharp look of disapproval.

Fine. She’d take his disapproval and fling it back at him, coating him as thoroughly with it as