Page 52 of A Virgin for the Ruthless Duke

He had tried to fill it with the usual things: friends, drink, and outright debauchery. He should have known not to go down that path. After all, it was the same thing that had led his parents to their destruction.

So, he turned to more constructive things when he came back to England. He picked himself up and started participating in the House of Lords, sharing the insights he had gathered during his travels. In no time, he had garnered a great following.

That was where he had met the Duke of Westall. He had been his rival, with opinions that differed greatly from his own. They were not enemies because he admired the man’s intelligence, but their opposing opinions meant that they could not be friends either.

That was why he had been surprised when Westall invited him over for a house party. Richard had attended out of curiosity.It was there that he had first met Selina. She had just returned from a walk with an annoyed expression on her face, which he later discovered to be because she had to tell off an overeager suitor who had wanted a watered-down version of her to be his wife.

“Is there something on my face, Your Grace?” she had asked in a frosty voice, and he realized suddenly that he had been staring at her for quite some time.

“I apologize, My Lady,” he replied.

He would have added subtle flattery if she was another lady, but somehow, he had known that he would get told off if he tried it with her.

She nodded in acknowledgment. “You are the Duke of Seymour?” she asked suddenly, fixing her shocking green eyes on him.

“At your service, My Lady,” he said with an exaggerated bow, then gave a half smile, and by some miracle, she smiled back.

It felt like a miracle watching her smile. The light in her eyes brightened, and her face became even more irresistible. Richard acknowledged that he could rapidly lose himself in her green eyes if he was not careful.

“… always wanted to meet you. Anyone who manages to discomfit Stephen must be interesting.” Her voice had jolted him back to reality.

“You find me interesting because I antagonize your brother?” he asked, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

“Yes,” she replied with a mischievous smile. “He is usually so rigid and unyielding. I rather like to see him discomfited.”

“You are an odd lady, Lady…” he trailed off.

“Selina. I’m sure you will confirm just how odd I am when you get to know me,” she said with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

She had kept her promise, entertaining him for the duration of the house party. He had grown attached to her, even though he was engaged to Lottie Barnes.

He looked forward to conversing with her. When it was revealed that he had only been invited to the house party because they suspected he was involved in the evil plot of the Barneses, he was almost relieved to have an excuse to end the ill-fated engagement. But he was sad, for it also meant the end of the house party, and he had to leave even though he enjoyed Selina’s company so much.

She chased away the darkness and emptiness in his soul simply by being present, and when he had to leave, he addressed the return of the demons that followed him like an unseen cloak.

It was easy to imagine his elation when he saw her again. He seized any opportunity to be with her. At the house party, he was surrounded by her family and forced to behave himself. Inviting her to private spaces unleashed his desire, and while he knew that his self-control grew weaker with every encounter, he could not stop himself. It was almost like he was addicted to her.

It was because he was so attuned to her that he noted the deep flush in her cheeks and the way she fiddled with her dress presently in the way that she only did when she was nervous.

But, now that he thought about it, she had been quite composed when she was with the Earl of Sanderson. She had been laughing and looked so deliriously happy that it was annoying, but there had been no sign of nervousness. She did not stand frozen in place, neither did she fiddle with her dress the way she did now. Her cheeks were flushed that afternoon, but it was more because of the sun than anything.

The thought confused him further. Why on earth would she be nervous with him? He had thought that they were always open with one another. The only thing that could make her nervous in his presence was the possibility that she had done something wrong.

The anger that rose within him at that moment should have scared him, yet it slithered through his veins, stretching muscles and skin until he was livid.

“You seem nervous, My Lady,” he noted in a quiet voice.

But perhaps his rage had bled into his voice, because he saw wariness flicker in her eyes as she took a step back, then another.

“Why do I make you nervous? Do not tell me you have done something wrong?” he said, leading the dance and pulling her into him.

In a distant part of his mind, he knew that his rage was part desire and that he was fast on his way to combustion.

“It has been a long time since I last danced,” she said in a rush, studiously avoiding his gaze.

“You danced at the last ball. I recall seeing you,” he deadpanned.

“Well,” she said with a shaky laugh, “perhaps you might ask my dance partners about the state of their toes. I bruised them all with my clumsy steps.”

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