Page 40 of My Demanding Duke

“Our definitions of fun may differ.”

Anna ignored his dark mutterings, turning her gaze instead toward Lord Beaufort. He was by their side in seconds, a conspiratorial smile upon his face.

“Thank goodness you are here, your Grace,” he said, lifting her hand to his lips, “Your shining beauty quite distracts from the malevolent spirit that followed you inside.”

“Good evening to you, too, Beaufort,” Falconbridge reluctantly grinned.

“It speaks,” Bartie turned to Anna, who was thoroughly delighted, in mock surprise. “What do you think the spirit would say if I were to ask you to allow me to be the first name on your dance card?”

“It would say that it may be your last dance, Beaufort,” the duke answered, his eyes not quite matching his jesting tone.

“If it is to be my last dance, then I am glad it will be with the most beautiful woman in the room,” Bartie continued, unabashed. “What say you, your Grace?”

He offered Anna a flourishing bow, then held out his hand to her.

“Just one dance,” she agreed, shrugging helplessly at her smouldering husband.

She took Bartie’s hand and allowed him to lead her to the dancefloor, where a dozen couples were awaiting the orchestra to play. They soon struck up the first chord of The Country Dance, and Anna joined the line of women, facing the men in the opposite line.

The dance began with light, skipping steps, and Anna found herself laughing as Bartie spun her neatly through the figures with surprising skill. As the couples wove and parted, her gaze drifted down the line to her next partner—and caught sight of a tall, elegant figure she hadn’t seen earlier: Lord Gravesend.

He slipped into place opposite her with smooth ease, his expression warm. Their hands met in the center and he gave a broad smile, which she couldn’t help but match.

“Your Grace,” he greeted, his words formal but his tone familiar.

“Lord Gravesend,” she replied, glad to see another friendly face amongst the fray.

“I trust you’ve remained unmolested by footpads of late?” he queried lightly, as they moved through the steps.

“Entirely unmolested,” she agreed, with a self-conscious laugh. “I have learned my lesson about venturing out alone in London.”

“A wise decision for a woman of your beauty,” Gravesend observed, the compliment causing Anna to blush.

“I really do wish to thank you for the kindness you showed me,” she stammered, wishing to deflect any flirtation, then scolding herself for believing him flirting at all. Gravesend was a young buck; he probably dropped compliments at the feet of every lady he danced with.

“As I said, I seek no reward,” Gravesend answered, interrupting her internal anxieties. “Though perhaps—another night—you will promise to share another dance with me?”

Before she could respond, the music drew them apart again. Another partner took the place of Gravesend, and the dance continued until Anna was at last reunited with Bartie. Lord Beaufort kept up a steady stream of conversation as he escorted Anna back to her waiting husband, though as they neared, he gave a giddy laugh.

“I fear I have awoken the beast,” Bartie whispered, as he handed Anna over to Falconbridge.

Hugh’s bearing was rigid and haughty, his dark brow drawn into a frown of vague annoyance—he looked every inch the forbidding duke he was rumoured to be.

“I have returned her in one piece,” Bartie called, convivially, as he handed Anna over to her husband.

“My wife is not a vase, Beaufort,” Hugh drawled, taking Anna’s hand in his. “Though I thank you for treating her with the appropriate delicacy.”

Bartie gave Anna smile, bowed with exaggerated flair to Falconbridge, then melted back into the throng, leaving them alone once more.

Anna glanced at her husband; his posture had eased fractionally, the fearsome frown now vanished, and the tight set of his jaw had relaxed somewhat. He looked almost approachable—almost.

Sensing her eyes upon him, Hugh gave her a sidelong glance.

“Tell me,” he said, in a casual tone that sounded a little forced to Anna’s ear; “How do you know Gravesend?”

“We were introduced at one of the balls I attended with Lady Limehouse,” Anna lied, wondering if her new husband was omnipotent. She had conversed lightly with all her partners during the set; how strange it was that he had honed in on Gravesend, of all people.

Perhaps he can read lips, she thought wildly for a moment, before giving herself a shake. She did not need to ascribe any unbelievable powers to her husband; she found him intimidating enough as he was.

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