Page 63 of Ruined By the Northern Duke
Unable to take it any longer, Verity asked, “Where would you like to go?”
“I have no interests here.”
Except he was the one who had accepted the invitation to the ball.
Verity wondered if she would regret tonight. But she would at least try to work with him. “Very well. Are you thirsty? Hungry?”
“No.”
She felt like she was pulling teeth.
Letting out a slow breath to contain her frustration, she feared she had somehow undone all the progress they had made. Again, they were strangers.
“Surely there is something you would like to do,” she pressed, unable to contain all her ire. “You came here tonight, after all. Is there anything you would like to enjoy?”
Tristan paused, leaning in, and her hope grew.
Then, it deflated abruptly as he extricated his arm from hers. “Please enjoy yourself as you desire. There is no need to hover around me all evening. If you’re thirsty, you can?—”
“How generous of you,” she cut in with a fake smile.
“It is what is best, is it not?”
“As I said, generous.” Then, she walked away. She didn’t want him doing it first.
She took out her fan as she waded through the crowd, knowing he wouldn’t follow her, as the heat of so many bodies warmed the room considerably. She heard Helena before spotting her, caught up with at least five suitors all swooning over her.
“Oh, an absolute angel! Be a dear and come settle this argument,” her friend called with a giddy smile. “They don’t believe I can shoot a rifle. What say you?”
After nodding at the suitors, Verity said, “I believe that no one should be underestimated if they are determined.”
“Aha!” Helena giggled.
“But you shouldn’t need a rifle, My Lady,” said one of the younger men, flushed red with moony eyes. “You have all of us to protect you.”
The widow teased her suitors mercilessly, and Verity hovered by for some time. She laughed at their jests until her cheeks ached. Her eyes darted around the room constantly, though she told herself she wasn’t searching for anyone. Especially not her husband.
Just as she was wondering if she was entertained or desperate not to be bored, a new face appeared before her.
“I know you,” she blurted as he offered a graceful bow to her.
Helena was giggling with another gentleman, not even aware of the new addition to the group.
Verity studied the golden-haired man’s wicked grin. “Ashcombe, isn’t it? Whatever are you doing here?”
“That would be one of the most boring answers I could give you, my dear Duchess,” he drawled, before extending his arm. “Might we entertain ourselves with a reel instead? I cannot stand to see a beautiful lady trapped in the shadows.”
A light laugh escaped her. “Now you’re mocking me. I’m not trapped.”
Tsking, he moved forward to put her hand on his arm all the same. A dubious move that could have people whispering. But his back was turned to everyone, blocking the gesture from view. He was familiar with rakish behavior then.
She paused to consider him more carefully.
“There. Now you’re not trapped at all. You can dance, can you not?”
“You’re not at all like my husband,” she remarked.
“A pity, a crime, and a blessing.” Ashcombe tapped his nose before pulling her into the crowd. He did so with ease.
