Page 178 of Dukes for Dessert

Blinkblinkblink. Of course. She’d quite boldly and honestly admitted her plans for last evening. No one had inquired and she’d been so preoccupied with thoughts of Damian and his kiss and the imagined battle they’d been locked in while they handled the sword. “I did,” she finally said.

He sucked in a gasping breath and stopped, until she was forced to either stop as well or be dragged down. “You saw it.”

His was an awed proclamation and yet she nodded anyway. “What does it look like?”

“It is…heavy.” But not when you’re wrapped in the arms of another and together you wield that massive weapon. Her body still burned with the feel of his skin flush against her.

She gasped as Aidan took her by the shoulders. “You held it.” Awe laced those three words.

“Twice,” she confessed. She’d not mention the bit about the masquerade. By his volatile reaction yesterday evening following her announced plans to attend Lord Renshaw’s betrothal ball, he’d be less than pleased to know she’d been a guest at the sought after event of the Season—the Duke of Devlin’s masquerade.

Their parents tossed a questioning look back at them, which propelled brother and sister into motion. “Is it as magnificent to behold as is purported?” he asked with the same enthusiasm he’d demonstrated as boy asking that very question at their father’s knee.

She chewed her lip contemplatively. Odd, for the desperation that had driven her to brave the Duke of Devlin’s home, not once but twice all for the legendary sword, she’d not given thought to anything more than Damian. The gentleman with a hauntingly beautiful face, who she’d been taught to fear.

“Theo?”

“Magnificent.” For the mark upon the left side of his face added depth and resilience to the man.

Further questions ended as they stepped inside the townhouse and were ushered to the ballroom. They took their place in the receiving line and Theodosia sighed. Of all aspects of soirees and balls, the receiving line was by far the most painfully awkward moment of the evening. After all, a wallflower could seek out her place alongside the wall and escape notice…but not before said wallflower was presented on display and whispered about and laughed at for being so very different than the graceful, beautiful Lady Minervas of the world.

The crush of guests present cast unnatural warmth upon the crowded ballroom.

She stared over the tops of the heads of the lords and ladies milling and dancing. A whisper went up. A whisper not at all like the “there-is-plump-Theodosia-and-her-sad-family”, and more like the whispers of some great, juicy morsel of gossip that had captured their attention. Her shoulders sagged as she gave thanks for whatever diversion now occupied—

“Bloody hell, what is he doing here,” Aidan hissed.

And Theodosia knew. Knew in the way her skin pricked with awareness and the warmth spiraling out from her belly that he was there. She found him instantly, across the ballroom. Blinkblinkblink. He stood alongside one of the towering, white columns, wholly elegant and unaffected by the whispers. Theodosia swallowed.

“Theo!” Her brother’s sharp tone snapped her from her reverie.

“Hmm? Oh, er, yes.” Her cheeks warmed as she stepped forward to be presented.

Which, of course, only resulted in the staring business from the bored members of Polite Society. Yet this time, the stares were not reserved for her alone. Now they involved the Duke of Devlin, present at a ball attended by the Rayne family. When all members of the peerage knew the longstanding rivals pointedly avoided accepting invites to the same functions. Until now.

“Whatever is he doing here?” her mother whispered, wringing her hands together as their family made their way to the opposite corner of the ballroom—far, far away from Damian.

Not for the first time in her life, Theodosia damned her height that prevented her from seeing, she went up on tiptoes…well, anything.

“Stop gaping,” her brother ordered.

“I’m not gaping.” She’d need to be able to actually see the man to gape. If he were visible, however, she’d certainly be gaping. After having known his kiss and the power of his arms and the smile on his lips, it really was quite impossible to not gape at the commanding duke.

Apparently her mother lamented her own height as well. “Dear, I asked you what he is doing?” she said once more to her husband.

Bushy grey brows knitted into a single line and then her father’s eyes widened slowly until those bushy grey eyebrows met his hairline. “By God, the Devil is coming this way.”

Theodosia’s heart leapt. Oh, dear.

* * *

Damian accepted the invite to Lady McNamara’s ball simply for the reason to coordinate a meeting with the Rayne lady and see her amethyst thistle combs restored to the lady’s care.

Except, the woman who’d long been nothing more than a Rayne lady had shifted and morphed into this new, captivating, and spirited woman—Theodosia. A woman who didn’t glance away from his marred face or gawk in fascinated horror. So as the crowd parted, in eager anticipation of this public exchange, he acknowledged her thistle combs had not brought him here.

It had been her.

He came to a stop before them. His gaze fixed on Theodosia. The heightened color on her cheeks and the smile hovering on her lips did not foretell a young woman who wished him to the devil. He slid his stare over to the lady’s stunned, silent kin.

---