Page 39 of The Dark Duke's Virgin

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Frederick’s heart raced as he led Miss Dowding to the dance floor. Sweaty palms. A slight shaking of his knees. Even his stomach felt knotted in ways that might suggest that he was nervous. An avid dancer, more than able on his feet, the prospect of dancing before the party’s guests had nothing to do with this sudden onset of palpitations. That was the result of his dancing partner.

It was just a dance, he told himself. Done for the sake of his daughter, whom he could now see watching him with confusion as he and Miss Dowding took up their places beside the other couples. She would watch, and she would learn, and Frederick would go to bed tonight able to convince himself that what was done here was for her education and her education only.

Not the first time that Frederick had lied to himself today. And it certainly would not be the last.

“Are you familiar with the waltz?” Frederick asked as he stepped into Miss Dowding, running his hand down her back until it rested on her hip.

He felt her take a sharp breath, body turning stiff at his touch only to slowly relax as their hands met, his on top, taking the lead.

“I am,” she said, her voice shaking. “I am better at the cotillion, of course. And the scotch reel is my favorite. But I do not mind a waltz.”

“Some say that it is inappropriate,” Frederick said, his voice low. “But I find it far more personal. All this changing of partners and the constant jumping about, far too boisterous.”

“Yes, a little too much fun,” she ginned wickedly.

“My meaning is I invited you to dance.” He looked right at her, and she swallowed as his meaning became clear. “Not another.”

“I…” She swallowed again. “I could not agree more.”

Silence fell between them as they readied for the music. So close, his body pressed against Miss Dowding’s, that he could feel her heart beating as if she had run a mile… or perhaps that was his own? Indeed, she was shaking in his grip, but she stayed close, like she was nearly wrapped around him, the thin linen of her dress providing little protection for her bare skin which he couldfeel.

And then the music started slowly as did their waltz. To and fro they moved, him leading, her following. They did not speak at first, almost purposefully, as if both had suddenly come to realize how terrible of an idea this dance was.

But was it such a bad idea?

His conversation with Miss Dowding just now had caught him by complete surprise. And not just because of how honest they had been with one another but in how easy it was too. The same bickering that they had become known for, but with a casual air to it, a comfort that he had rarely felt with anybody before.

Frederick had thought her to be rude and highly stubborn. He had assumed that she hated him and that he might dislike her just as much. An attraction brought about by fire and nothing more, it seemed, hardly worth pursuing. Only… now he wondered if he had been wrong.

And what was more, as they danced, and as he felt people watching them, not even caring that they were, Frederick began to consider what his grandmother had spoken about and been so eager to bring up whenever she could: that it was time he found himself a wife.

“I think you undersold yourself,” he said as they danced, the tempo increasing. “Your dancing skills, I mean.”

She looked at him flatly. “Are you mocking me, Your Grace?”

“For once, I am not.”

“Oh…” She blushed and looked away. “Thank you. And you also, very adept.”

He laughed. “Careful, pay me too many compliments, and it might just go to me head.”

“And it is big enough already,” she grinned.

“Easy…” he warned her jokingly. “I can only be so forgiving.”

“Oh, Your Grace, you have seen nothing yet.” Her eyes flashed suggestively, and he felt his pulse quicken.

He hadn’t seen anything yet… Frederick could not help but think of the implication. What he had not seen and what he would very much like to. With Caroline’s body pressed so closely, with that darn dress she had on, his eyes flicked south, mind now picturing how she might look out of that dress, on top of him, moaning and panting and?—

Frederick snapped himself out of it. This frame of thoughts was a bad idea with so many people watching, so Frederick concentrated again on the waltz. His grip was tight around her waist, and he held her close, leading her to the right. Her feet moved with his, their rhythm matched perfectly, and they were one and the same.

“So, tell me…” He cleared his throat, attempting to keep the conversation light. At least for now. “If you do not mind me asking, my daughter told me a little of your circumstances, and I was wondering if it was true? Or how much of it was.”

A flash of worry behind her eyes, and Frederick thought for a moment that he had asked the wrong question. But she was quick to recover, shaking her head and scoffing. “Likely, it all is.” A beat. “What did she say?”

“That you were set to be married, only to be left at the altar?”

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