Page 15 of Wedded to the Sinful Duke

The two same ladies accompanied her this time as well, and they immediately chuckled at her mean words. Ciara felt a knot tighten in her stomach, the familiar sting of Sarah’s unkind words threatening to dampen the newfound courage she had gathered from her friends. Adeline, Penelope, and James exchanged uneasy glances, sensing Ciara’s discomfort at Sarah’s blatant rudeness.

Ciara could see that Adeline was ready to defend her friend, as she did before, but Ciara knew that she could not allow others to fight her own battles. She gently grabbed Adeline by the elbow, preventing her from speaking.

“I will have you know that I was never a nun but was an oblate,” Ciara explained. “Not that I expect someone of such limited knowledge to know the difference.”

Ciara could not believe that she had actually said that. But one look in Adeline’s direction assured her she was on the right path, so she continued with equal boldness, “Your opinions are your own, Miss Danforth, but they hold no weight here. Kindness costs nothing, and I will not tolerate your rudeness any longer. You may turn around and leave us now.”

Sarah’s face flushed with indignation, but she seemed momentarily at a loss for words. With a haughty sniff, she turnedon her heel and walked away, followed by her friends, leaving Ciara and her friends in relieved silence.

“Well done, Ciara,” Adeline could not even wait for them to leave to express her delight. “Standing up for yourself always takes courage, and you handled that marvelously!”

“I must say, you really did,” James nodded.

“I am so proud of you, Ciara,” Penelope gushed, wrapping her arms around her friend.

“I know you were afraid of how you would fit back in,” Adeline pointed out. “And you can see now that each day will get better, especially when you don’t let people like her harm you in any manner.”

Ciara felt a rush of gratitude for her friends’ unwavering support. She smiled gratefully at Penelope and Adeline, feeling a newfound sense of strength and resilience. “Thank you, both of you,” she said sincerely. “I could not have done it without you.”

As the first strains of the orchestra’s melody filled the air, signaling the beginning of the grand dance, the ballroom seemed to come alive with anticipation and elegance.

James, ever the gentleman, extended his arm to Penelope with a charming smile. “Shall we, my dear?” he asked, his eyes twinkling with warmth.

Penelope accepted his offer with a graceful nod, her smile bright and infectious. She glanced back at Ciara and Adeline with an encouraging wink before following James onto the dance floor where they seamlessly joined the other couples gliding in time to the music.

Meanwhile, Adeline, with an air of quiet curiosity, surveyed the room for potential suitors. Her gaze swept over the gathered guests, assessing each gentleman with a discerning eye. She toyed with a strand of her hair, a subtle gesture of nervous anticipation mingled with hope. Ciara almost chuckled at the words her friend had told her that she didn’t really care about suitors. It was obvious that curiosity won over.

Ciara, on the other hand, felt a wave of anxiety wash over her as she watched Adeline’s search unfold. The idea of being the center of attention, even just for a dance, made her stomach churn with nervousness. She cast a longing glance toward a quiet corner of the ballroom where the shadows offered a temporary refuge from the glittering crowd.

Adeline moved away, called by another friend of hers, when suddenly, Ciara heard a familiar voice from somewhere behind her.

“There you are, siren.”

CHAPTER 8

“It’s you again,” the siren scowled at Jonathan in a way that made him want her even more.

After all, he had come to this blasted event just so he could find her. And there she was as if waiting for him. She looked ravishing, truly like a siren. That pet name suited her in so many ways. And there were also so many ways in which he could suit her as well. He wondered how her naked body would feel pressed to his as her breasts heaved throughout her moans. He wondered about the color of her nipples. Would they be like delicate rose petals in the summer? How he longed to taste them, to flick his tongue over them while his eyes watched her in the throes of desire.

But he shouldn’t be thinking about that right now. There were too many people around. His smile might betray him or perhaps even his words. He usually didn’t mind his manners when he truly wanted something, and he truly wanted her. More than anything else in fact.

“It has come to my attention that we were not properly introduced last time we met,” he grinned mischievously.

“Has it occurred to you that I did not wish to be acquainted with the likes of you?” she asked him, catching him off guard with her fire. Heat unfurled between his thighs, awakening profound desire.

“Actually, it has,” he acknowledged, realizing that one would easily attract more bees with honey than with vinegar. “And that is because I have not properly apologized for my behavior, a mistake which I intend to rectify immediately.” He paused, clearing his throat a little. “It was a mistake, madam. I should not have acted as I did. It was wrong of me in so many ways. But sometimes, I let the worst get the best of me.” He grinned at his last comment then he offered a proper introduction. “Jonathan Whitlock, the Duke of Silverbrook, at your service, madam.” He bowed down deeply before her in a most respectful way.

He looked down at her shoes, at the hem of her gown trailing on the floor. He lifted his gaze slowly, as if he were caressing her. Her legs, thighs, waist, her breasts rising and falling, and the delicate line of her exposed collar bones, finally reaching her lips and eyes. He refused to look away even for a second before he heard her siren’s voice and found out whom it belonged to.

“Ciara Everton,” she finally revealed her identity. “Daughter of the Viscount of Hartfield.”

“Ah,” he said with a smile, straightening his posture. “Miss Everton, would you do me the honor of dancing with me?”

“No, thank you,” she said without even thinking. It almost hurt his ego. Usually, women were that fast in giving him the opposite answer, but hers was a resounding no.

He knew that convincing her would yield no results. However, he could immediately tell that she wanted to run away and hide in the corner. Placing her in a situation where he would be the lesser of the two evils was the only way to get her to accept his offer.

He leaned closer to her, discreetly pointing at a group of older-looking gentlemen, who were all glancing in the direction of the dancing couples. “I noticed Lord Quentington looking at you a moment before I approached you. I suppose he is trying to do so now as well, albeit discreetly, as we are talking. He has probably set his mind upon asking you to dance. And then, there will be others.” He paused, allowing his words to sink in. Then, he continued, “I bet they are all thrilling conversationalists, and they will not make you uncomfortable at all.”

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