Page 17 of A Deviant Spinster for the Duke
Leaning in, tempted by the curve of her neck, he whispered, “How will you be the wife you wish to be when you drive away any man that dares to speak with you? Ifmyresolve was not as strong as it is, I have no doubt that you would have chased me off too.”
“If you are referring to Martin Thorne, I have excellent reasons for ‘chasing him off’. I despise the man.” She folded her arms across her chest, her breathing shallow. “If you are referring to the other gentleman—I was distracted.”
He nodded, circling her again. “So, had you not been distracted, you would have entertained his introduction?”
She grimaced, keeping him in the periphery of her gaze. “Probably not, but, with a list, with information about each gentleman, I would find at least one who might be a pleasant suitor. I am better if I am able to prepare.”
“Yes, I can see that.” He chuckled. “Seven years is certainly a lot of time to prepare.”
“Things have changed,” she retorted.
“What things?”
She shook her head again, as she had done in her drawing room. “That is none of your concern.”
“Very well.” He stopped just behind her, captivated by the way the firelight danced across her auburn hair, making it blaze. “Tell me though, has there never been anyone who has… captured your attention in all those years?”
She said nothing, her back to him.
He leaned closer, knowing he could press his lips to the short gap of bare shoulder if he dipped his head a little more. “Did someone break your heart, my raven?”
“Never,” she half-gasped, though whether in shock or defiance, he could not be sure.
“I do not believe you.”
She sniffed, dropping her chin to her chest. “You do not have to, but it is the truth.” She hesitated. “Rather, no one man has broken my heart. All of them have.”
“Allof us?” He could not help it; he wasfascinatedby this strange and beautiful creature, who had barreled out of the darkness to save a young lady, inadvertently savinghimfrom a trap instead.
She did not look back at him, though he wished she would. “I had… ideas about you gentlemen when I was younger. Hopes forwhat you might be, and daydreams of what I could expect. They were soundly dashed on the night of my debut and have never been put back together again.”
“Hopes and dreams should never be so fragile, Valeria,” he purred, longing to slide his arm around her waist, to pull her into a dance for them and them alone. “They cannot survive if they are not made of sterner stuff.”
“That is the point; they did not survive,” she replied curtly. “They were foolish, and I am glad they shattered. Now, after seven years, I have a new hope. You will be pleased to hear that it is made of solid steel.”
He stepped back to quieten the wayward wanderings of his mind, resting back against the mantelpiece while she continued to stare out at the terrace doors. At five-and-twenty, she was far more compelling than any of the debutantes out there in the ballroom.
“You look beautiful in that gown,” he said, enjoying each glint of the detailed beading and the raven’s wing sheen of the silk beneath.
“Did it come from your personal collection?” she retorted. “The color is rather apt, for when I donned it, I did feel as if I was heading to my own funeral. The funeral of my dignity, at least.”
Duncan clicked his tongue, tutting. “First lesson: learn to accept compliments instead of lashing them back in a fellow’s face.”He moved quickly toward her, dipping his head to her ear. “Especially when they are true.”
Reaching around her, careful not to press against her, he grasped her by the hand and pulled her around to face him.
“That dress is not funereal,” he told her, face-to-face. “On you, it is ethereal. We spoke of power, Valeria, but it seems you do not know your own.”
With barely a gap between them, she peered up into his eyes, her chest rising and falling rapidly to the ragged sound of her breaths. His hand still held hers, and she made no move to yank it back.
“What power?” she murmured, her voice catching.
He lowered his head, his lips within an inch of grazing hers. “You could have every gentleman in England eating out of the palm of your hand if you wanted. You have beauty, wit, wisdom, experience, and a… unique charm that could drive countless men wild, if you tempered yourself.”
“Change, you mean?” Her eyes narrowed, as she pulled back a little.
Seizing her hand afresh, he tugged her closer again. “That is not what I said.” His gaze flitted to her slightly parted lips. “Who you are is what holds such tremendous power, but it is like fire: if it burns too hot, no one can come near. If it burns just enough,people will crowd around to warm themselves. Be yourself, but be a roaring fire in winter not an inferno that means to raze one’s house to ash.”
Those striking green eyes widened as if she understood, giving him an idea. True, he could set her loose in the ballroom then and there and be done with his debt, but he wanted that even less now. He was not at all finished learning the mysteries of Valeria Maxwell.
