Page 45 of Guilty Pleasures

“The same consequence that impels me to avoid young ladies who swoon. Being a wealthy duke who is also a bachelor makes me the object of intense scrutiny at a ball. Every move I make is observed, dissected, and published in the society papers for all to read. If I engage a lady for a dance, the matrons begin circulating rumors about us all around the ballroom before the dance is over. If I enjoy her company enough to dance with her a second time, I am madly in love, and by the third dance, the wedding is a foregone conclusion.”

“That would be maddening.”

“It is worse for the poor young lady in question, for the gossip is never favorable toward her. No matter her beauty, sweetness of temper, and suitability, no woman with whom I am linked can compare with the daughter of whichever matron is doing the talking.”

She laughed. “I suppose that is inevitable.”

“Yes, which is why I rarely dance.”

“Well, since no one is here to observe and gossip, you should be able to enjoy yourself tonight.”

“I am.” He intertwined their fingers more tightly. “I am enjoying myself very much indeed.”

Before Daphne could think of a reply, the music began to slow, grinding down until it stopped, and Anthony brought her to a halt as well. His right hand slid away from her waist, but he retained her other hand in his grasp. “Not a single misstep,” he pointed out.

“You are right,” she said in some surprise. “I forgot to worry about making a mistake.”

“Exactly so.” He gestured to the side of the room. “After a dance is over, I escort you back to your place.” He suited the action to the word, leading her to one side of the room as if they were truly at a ball. He let her go, took a step back from her and bowed. She suspected an answering bow was required of her, and she crossed one ankle behind the other and dipped a short curtsy.

“No, no, Miss Wade,” he said, smiling. “You must give a deeper bow than that to me. I am a duke, after all. A knee almost to the floor is expected.”

She dropped down again in a deeper curtsy. “You are just loving this, aren’t you?”

“Well, yes,” he admitted, as she straightened again. He looked at her mouth and his smile vanished. “After all, you did chastise me quite severely today for taking advantage of our friendship, and I must take my revenge where I can.”

She had not felt severe at all. Her words that afternoon had been a desperate, last-ditch defense, for she had actually thought he intended to kiss her. Worse, she had hoped he would. “I did no such thing.”

“I do not want another quarrel with you, so I will not start one. Although I feel compelled to point out that a young lady should never, ever contradict a duke.”

“There are ever so many rules, are there not?” she said, forcing a lightness into her voice. “I have read all your etiquette books, and I still feel quite intimidated. Is there anything else I should know?”

“Yes.” He took a step closer to her. “As I told you before, a young lady of fashion would never wear her spectacles to a ball.” He reached out, and ignoring her sound of protest, he removed the pair of eyeglasses from her face. “Try to wear these as little as possible. Accustom yourself to going without them if you can.”

“I read that a young lady is expected to acknowledge her acquaintances. How am I to do that if I cannot see them?”

She reached for the pair of eyeglasses, but he stretched his arm out and back, keeping them out of her reach. She stood up on the tips of her toes, but even then, it did no good, for he was so much taller than she. Daphne knew she could not risk jumping up to grab the pair, for they might get broken. She lowered her heels back to the floor, put her hands on her hips and frowned at him. “Are we going to have another argument about this?”

“No.” Anthony folded the pair of spectacles and put them in the pocket of his jacket. “Because I am not giving them back until our lesson is over. This time, I want you to dance without wearing them.”

“But I can’t see anything.”

He pulled her close. “Can you see me?”

She looked into his eyes, eyes with all the deep, rich colors of English moss—green and brown and gold. “Yes, but—”

“Good, for your partner is the one you should be looking at.” He stepped back, once again trying to lead her to the center of the room, but she pulled her hand out of his grasp and did not move.

She hated not having her eyeglasses on. Outside of about a fifteen-foot radius, everything was blurry, and that always left her feeling very vulnerable. She bit her lip and glanced at his pocket, wondering.

Anthony read her intent at once and shook his head. “I advise you not to try.”

She did it anyway, reaching for the pocket at his hip, but before she could get her fingers underneath the flap, his hand closed over her wrist. “I warned you,” he said as he pushed her hand outward, away from his pocket, “and you ignored my warning. You should never ignore a duke. We hate that.”

Daphne’s heart began to thud in her chest. He let her go, but he did not move away. She knew she should step back, move away, leave the room. She stayed where she was, almost as if she were under some sort of spell. What would it be like if he kissed her?

It was not until he moved to close the remaining distance between them that she slid one foot backward, then another, then another. He followed, still keeping less than a few scant inches of distance between them. It was not until her back hit the wall behind her and Anthony brought his arms up on either side of her that she came to her senses. With a glance from side to side, she realized that he had very neatly trapped her.

“Go,” he said, as if reading her thoughts. He flattened his palms against the wall. “Run, Miss Wade. If you can.”

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