Page 12 of The Duke's Vice

He got the sense she didn’t like not having the upper hand. The thought delighted him immensely. His eyes stayed focused on her as she started to nibble on her bottom lip. Oh to be that lip.

The thought surprised him, but then again, it has been some time since his last tryst. He may want to settle that soon. He looked over Beatrice, her brown hair perfectly curled and styled. Other than that one curl he tucked away, which his fingers were still buzzing from touching, everything about her was perfectly positioned. What would she look like a little disheveled and undone?

Ezra gave his head a slight shake. Those were extremely dangerous thoughts, especially during a mid-afternoon ball.

“Do you enjoy dancing?” His voice was getting harder to control and keep light with her in his arms.

She snorted. “Do you like propositioning young women in the dark streets of London in the middle of the night?”

His laugh was so loud it drowned out the music and had people turning towards them in curiosity.

Her smug look was quickly replaced with reddened cheeks as she dropped her head in embarrassment.

So she was quick-witted and had no problem asking hard questions, but was not a fan of attention. He had learned moreabout this girl in thirty seconds than he had learned about most women he’d spent weeks with.

“You embarrass me, Your Grace.” She whispered.

He lowered his head towards hers. “Come now, where is the brazen girl I met last night? The one who challenged a stranger with no care for her safety?”

Her brown owns tightened on his. “I had care for my safety. And, may I remind you, my safety was and is none of your concern.” She sniffed as they continued to turn around the dance floor.

Ezra wanted to smile at her naivety but he couldn’t help but to think of what could have happened to her if she had run into anyone else on that street. His grip tightened as they twirled.

“I wonder if your mother has the same opinion.” Beatrice’s body stiffened within his arms. “I would assume she is not a fan of your midnight strolls. Actually, I think one would question if she even knew about them.”

He lifted one eyebrow as he looked down at her. Fear had frozen her features.

“You wouldn’t.” Her whisper was harsh.

Ezra lifted a shoulder. “It’s not a concern of mine what your mother knows. That’s between you and her. But I assure you, Lady Beatrice.,” he leaned down, his lips whispered just besideher ear. “Who walks my streets at night is very much a part of my concern.”

Beatrice shuttered in his arms. “Your streets? I was unaware you were the Constable of Water Street.”

This time his laugh was more subdued. She really did have a tongue on her.

“I am not, however, I frequent that area enough to be held in high regard and I take that privilege seriously. We don’t need some curious spoiled brat ruining our good time. We lead hard enough lives, we deserve a chance to let loose without the eyes of thetonwatching our every move.”

Beatrice’s feet stopped as she stared up at him in shock.

Ezra, bewildered, looked down at her feet, then around the room. “What is it?. Are you well?”

If his laughed drowned out the music, her laugh reached the Queen. She doubled over in laughter, wiping tears from her eyes.

“Really, Lady Beatrice,” he chided. “Now who is embarrassing who?”

He reached his arm back around her waist to draw her back in and started dancing again. She was still giggling. He didn’t know whether to chastise her for her outburst or enjoy the lightness her laugh brought him.

“I’m sorry, Your Grace, it’s just you speak as if you have the weight of the world on your shoulders. You do realize there are people in this world who can’t afford food or a place to sleep and yet you were just drinking out of a crystal glass.”

Ezra rolled his lips. He was right, she was a smart woman. Smart women were dangerous, and too much of a challenge. Pity he loved challenges.

“While it is true I am far better off than the common man, that does not mean I do not know the pain of hardships.”

Beatrice rolled her eyes. “What? Have they run out of your favorite brandy? Your favorite silk cravat was lost? Oh, I know,” her voice rang out in mirth. “Your favorite hunting dog has fallen ill.”

Ezra was not amused. “Are you done?”

Beatrice squinted her eyes as she looked up towards the ceiling. “Wait. I can come up with more if you just give me a moment.”

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