Page 48 of The Wrong Duke

That was the problem, she had decided. While they had shared in one of the most intimate, wonderful, damn arousing experiences of her life, she still didn’t know how the Duke felt about her. Yes, he was clearly attracted to her. But did he care for her? Did he want her beyond the obvious? And would hefightfor her if he needed to? The fact that she hadn’t seen or heard from him in three days should have answered that well enough.

In the end, the only conclusion that Amelia could draw was that the Duke did not feel about her the way she felt about him. If he did, then she wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place. If he did, then nothing she had said would scare him off. If she did, then she wouldn’t feel as glum and utterly hopeless as she did right now.

“Where is he?” her father grumbled as he led her. “He should be here.”

“Who?” Amelia said stupidly.

“Who do you think? Lord Malnor! He promised me that you would be his first dance — his only dance is what he should have said.”

“Maybe he’s running late?” she offered, sounding a little too hopeful.

“No, I saw his carriage outside. He is here.” Her father yanked on her arm suddenly and dragged her across the ball. “This is unacceptable!”

Her father had been in a mood all day. Ever since he’d learned that Lord Malnor wouldn’t be joining them before the ball. Lord Wexley had opened his home to those who had spent the previous weekend at her father’s estate, but the only two not to show were Lord Malnor and His Grace.

“Excuse me,” a voice spoke suddenly from behind Amelia. She recognized it although she hadn’t expected it. Not tonight. Not every again. “May I have this dance?”

Amelia spun around to find His Grace standing just behind her, body half bowed, hand out for her to take. She was certain he wouldn’t make an appearance tonight. After their last encounter, she expected him to avoid her for the rest of the Season at least — he had certainly acted like he would. And yet here he was, almost her knight in shining armor, looking just as dapper and delectable and damn perfect as she remembered.

She eyed the hand extended for her. Hesitated. Glanced up and met the Duke’s clear blue eyes. There was a plea for forgiveness in them, a silent apology that he couldn’t voice but wanted her to have. For three days, she had cursed the way they’d left things in the cabin, and now, possibly, the Duke had returned to rectify them.

Finally, he was ready to fight for her.

The hand called to her like a Siren, and slowly, almost unable to stop herself, she reached for it.

* * *

“I’m sorry, Your Grace.” Lord Lindstone snatched his daughter’s hand back, just as it was about to graze Evan’s fingers. “I’m afraid that my daughter has already promised her first dance of the evening to another.”

“Oh?” Evan raised a curious eyebrow. “To whom?”

“Lord Malnor,” Lord Lindstone sneered, still holding his daughter’s hand as if worried that when he let it go, it would automatically find its way into Evan’s. “We were just searching for him.”

“I’m sure he won’t mind,” Evan replied simply, keeping his smile and persona friendly for the repugnant lord, not wanting to give him a reason to flare up. “Lord Malnor and I are good friends, after all. There will be no ill feelings, I assure you.”

“Be that as it may,” Lord Lindstone responded stubbornly, “it would be best if we —”

“Father...” Miss Baker managed, pulling her hand free. “...it’s fine. I will still have plenty of time to dance with Lord Malnor.”

Lord Lindstone’s eyes widened, and his cheeks reddened, and his lips pursed together. Fury was what the pudgy lord became, such that he was momentarily rendered mute. And in that moment, Evan pounced.

“Wonderful.” He took Miss Baker by the hand and pried her from her father’s side. “I promise, I’ll return her in one piece.” A broad smile for Lord Lindstone which only seemed to anger him further.

And then, with Miss Baker’s hand clasped firmly in his own, Evan led her to the dance floor, all the while wondering to himself if this was the right thing to do, or if he was making just one more mistake in what had already been a very long list of them.

He almost didn’t come tonight. For three days and three nights, Evan had debated the merit of what he was about to do. But in the end, he reasoned that he had no choice. The way he and Miss Baker had left things in the cabin had haunted him these past three days, besieged him such that he felt ill whenever he remembered it. That look on Miss Baker’s face, part forlorn, part contempt, part disbelief that he could be so cruel. Evan couldn’t leave things like that. He couldn’t do that to Miss Baker. She had a right to know why he was the way he was, that this had nothing to do with her, that he was a broken man who could not be fixed.

It might not see them end up together. But at the very least, it might give Miss Baker a chance to move past what had happened and hopefully live a happy life, even if he wasn’t to be a part of it. That, Evan reasoned, was the least he could do.

“You look beautiful, by the way,” Evan said as the two reached the dance floor and took their positions. One hand on her waist, the other taking her hand and extending it from their bodies. He was careful not to press himself too close to her, however.

She was wearing the dress he had ordered for her. Evan didn’t fail to notice it. And while it made his heart soar to see how stunning she looked, he also wondered if she knew its origins, yet he realized that in the end, it made no difference. Better really that he hadn’t ordered the dress in the first place.

“Thank you.” Her smile was shy and nervous, but she made sure he saw it. “As do you.”

“I look beautiful, do I?” Evan raised an eyebrow.

Her eyes widened, and her cheeks flushed. “What? No, I didn’t mean — not beautiful. Obviously not. I meant handsome. You look very handsome.”

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