Page 39 of Marquess of Stone

“A refreshingly honest approach,” Marian observed as they turned through another corner. “Though I wonder about the purpose behind this particular instance of non-flattery, Duke Richard?”

The Duke’s smile was warm and genuine. “Perhaps I simply enjoy conversing with someone who sees beyond the usual social facades — and is not afraid to speak their mind on it.”

“How diplomatic of you. Though I must warn you, Your Grace, seeing beyond facades can be rather dangerous in… certain circles.”

“Is that why you prefer to maintain your own?” he asked quietly. “Is that the purpose of this armor you don each day, made of wit and sharp remarks, Lady Marian?”

Marian missed a step but recovered smoothly. “You seem remarkably interested in my… defenses, Duke Richard.”

“Let us just say I recognize a kindred spirit. Though perhaps…” His gaze flickered briefly to where Nicholas stood. “… I am not the only one who feels a connection.”

“I am not sure I take your meaning, Duke Richard,” she replied, her voice earnest.

“No?” His tone was gentle. “Then why do you keep looking for Lord Stone when you think I will not notice?”

Marian’s breath hitched and she bit her lip. “I… did not… Well, I mean no offence, Duke Richard.”

“None taken, My Lady, none at all,” he assured her.

The dance continued, and Marian found herself actually enjoying the Duke’s company. His conversation was clever without being cutting, interested without being intrusive. It was exactly the kind of attention she should want — appropriate, measured, proper.

So why did it feel so hollow compared to the memory of brandy-flavored kisses and forbidden card games?

The music drew to a close, and the Duke bowed over her hand with perfect courtesy. “Thank you for the dance, Lady Marian. Your company is as refreshing as ever.”

She had barely finished her curtsy when she felt another presence at her elbow. Her heart performed an entirely unauthorized flutter as Nicholas’ voice cut through the general hubbub of the ballroom.

“Might I claim the next dance?”

She turned to find him watching her with an intensity that made her breath catch. Proper form dictated that she could refuse — after all, they had already danced once at this house party and any more might spark gossip. But something in his expression made refusal impossible.

“If you wish, Lord Stone” she said, proud of how steady her voice remained.

He led her onto the floor just as the opening strains of a waltz filled the air. Of course, it would be a waltz — the most intimate of dances, requiring his hand at her waist and their bodies held closer than strict propriety usually allowed.

They moved in silence for several measures, the tension between them building with each turn. His hand burned through the silk of her gown like a brand, and she found herself counting the steps with fierce concentration, afraid that if she didn’t focus on the dance, she might do something foolish — like demand explanations for his hot and cold behavior or worse, beg him to kiss her again.

The Baroness Hountshire’s voice suddenly carried across the floor as she eyed them suspiciously. “Well, well, a second dance! How… interesting.”

“Hardly as interesting as your new hat, Baroness,” Jane called back cheerfully. “Is that a whole ostrich perched upon it or merely its more unfortunate relatives?”

Diana coughed delicately into her handkerchief though it sounded suspiciously like a laugh.

“Do your sisters often rush to your defense?” Nicholas asked softly.

“Only when they sense sharks circling,” Marian replied, “though the Baroness is more of a particularly persistent remora.”

“And what am I in this maritime metaphor?”

Marian met his eyes for the first time since they begun dancing. “I have not quite decided, Lord Stone. Perhaps a siren, leading unwary sailors onto rocks?”

“Interesting choice, Lady Marian,” he said as his thumb traced a small circle against her waist, sending shivers up her spine. “Though I do believe it was not the siren who initiated this particular voyage.”

“Only because the siren made the waters look so tempting,” she countered then immediately regretted the admission.”

“And suppose I was indeed such a siren,” he said, his voice dropping lower. “What would that make of you, I wonder?”

“Oh, merely one of the more foolish sailors, I suppose. Though in my defense, the rocks were very prettily arranged.”

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