Undressed with the Marquess (Lost Lords of London #3) - Christi Caldwell Page 0,82
the music . . . and movements. And dance.”
Together, they glided through the one-two-three steps of the waltz. She stumbled, and Dare tightened his grip at her waist, holding her up, drawing her closer. And when she opened her eyes, so much passion blazed from within those sapphire depths, Dare faltered.
Their legs became entangled, and they came down.
Dare broke her fall, coming down on his back so that she landed on his chest.
Breathless with laughter, Temperance touched the tip of her nose to his. “This is going to prove disastrous.”
He rolled her under him, earning another, bigger, fuller laugh. “You dare doubt us?”
“We’re on the floor, Dare.”
“Yes, well, there is that.” He tickled that sensitive place at her side, pulling a squeal from her. She swatted and writhed under him, this game he’d long played with her, once upon a lifetime ago before they’d parted.
“Mercy,” she cried between great, heaving guffaws of hilarity. “Merrrrcy.”
“What?” Dare angled his ear close to her mouth. “I’m afraid I don’t recognize that last word, love.”
“I take it this is your . . . wife? My sister-in-law?” A voice boomed from the front of the room, slashing a blade of sobriety through their exchange.
Dare continued to hold Temperance. Her chest rose and fell in quick respirations.
Framed in the doorway stood the Duchess of Pemberly alongside her granddaughter. Both women wore matching frowns.
And where there were only questions whether Dare belonged to this family, there could never be any doubting that the young woman was cut of the same cloth and shared the same blood as the dour matriarch.
“Your Grace,” Dare called from where he still lay on the floor.
The older woman’s cheeks turned grey, and she reached about her neck.
Kinsley helped the duchess to her smelling salts.
Temperance pushed frantically against him. “Release me. Now,” she furiously whispered.
Sighing, Dare hopped up, and held a hand down to Temperance.
As the pair at the front of the ballroom swept forward, Temperance hurriedly smoothed her skirts and patted her hair.
“You are fine.”
“I’m wrinkled,” she said out of the side of her mouth. “Your sister?”
“Is not wrinkled.”
Temperance shoved a discreet elbow into his side, and Dare grunted. “Stop making light.”
“Oh, fine.”
The two ladies stopped before him and Temperance.
Kinsley gave Temperance a once-over, wrinkling her nose ever so slightly. “This is where introductions would be best served,” she said coolly.
“Temperance,” Temperance was quick to supply, with a deep curtsy.
“Hmm. Yes, well, I am Lady Kinsley, and you are coming with me and Grandmother.”
He frowned. They’d come here and steal Temperance from him . . . and the brief moment of happiness they’d found preparing for their entry to Polite Society? “I’m not aware of any plans—”
“A wardrobe, Darius,” the duchess said with a thump of her cane. “Your wife requires a wardrobe.”
“For—”
“Grandmother and Grandfather have a dinner party planned.”
“To introduce you to Polite Society,” the duchess added when no one immediately spoke. “It will be small. No more than sixty guests.”
At his side, Temperance dissolved into a strangled fit.
“The sooner you and your wife are introduced, the better off it will be. The gossips will have less stories to invent.”
“When?” he asked tersely.
“Saturday evening. The invitations have already gone out, and I’m happy to say there’s not been a single rejection amongst the guests.”
Of course there wasn’t. He might not truly be a lord any longer, but he’d moved stealthily amongst them, through the years, enough to know precisely how they were. They’d not miss an opportunity to have access to gossip before anyone else. “I’ll see to my wife’s wardrobe.”
“And see her properly attired before Saturday?” Kinsley retorted. “You don’t have any connections that can secure that feat. Not like Grandmother.”
Sending Temperance off in a carriage ride with his ruthless kin? He thought not. “Bloody hell, she’s not going.”
“Dare,” Temperance began.
The duchess’s ears fired red, and Dare earned a dark look from his sister. “If I might give you some advice, avoid such language before the dinner party.”
Ignoring Lady Kinsley’s biting response, Dare focused on the duchess. “She is not going,” he said flatly.
Temperance settled a hand on his sleeve. “May I speak with you?”
His jaw hardened. He led her several steps away.
“It is fine,” she said when they were out of earshot.
“The carriage. You get sick in them.” And he’d spare her that suffering and humiliation in being exposed to his unfeeling family.
Tenderness glimmered from within her expressive eyes. “I’m going to have to eventually ride in carriages, Dare.”