Page 54 of His Stolen Duchess
“My dear, they are about to play a song,” Georgina noted. “You promised me that you would dance with me at least once tonight. Can we please dance to this song?”
The Duke smiled, looking at Georgina and then her uncle. “How could I say no to such a beautiful woman. Will you please excuse us?”
“Yes, of course,” Uncle Francis said.
Lysander took his wife’s hand and led her away from the small family group and toward the dance floor.
“Thank you,” he said to Georgina.
“You’ve led me from one conversation that I didn’t want to have, so I thought I should repay the favor. You didn’t want to talk about the war, did you?”
“No, I didn’t,” Lysander admitted. “There are some things that are best left in the past, and war is one of them. If your uncle was asking about it, then it means he hasn’t experienced the full brutality of war. If he had, he wouldn’t want to talk about it. Thank you for drawing me out of that situation.”
“You are welcome,” she replied. “At times, we do make a good team, don’t we?”
“I will admit that we do at times.”
They reached the dance floor and stood facing each other as more couples joined them in the center of the hall.
Georgina noticed the deep sorrow that now clouded the Duke’s eyes and sensed it stemmed from his wartime experiences. Since Lysander had said he didn’t want to talk about it, she refrained from asking.
The prelude began, and the couples took up their dancing positions. When Lysander placed his hand on her waist, she felt delighted that they would finally have an opportunity to dance together, although it hadn’t occurred to her that they would be so close and intimate. She had only searched for a way to get Lysander out of a conversation he didn’t want to continue, and it came with the added benefit of getting closer to her husband and engaging in something normal couples would do.
She placed her hand on his shoulder, and he took her free hand in his.
Then, their dance began.
Chapter Seventeen
“You dance wonderfully,” Lysander noted as he guided her through a smooth turn with barely a flick of his fingers.
“I haven’t danced in a long time,” Georgina replied breathlessly. “I must say, you dance rather well yourself.”
“You sound surprised,” he murmured, just loud enough for her to hear over the strings and the rhythmic tapping of polished shoes. “I will have you know that I am an adept dancer.”
The chandeliers above sparkled like constellations in motion, casting fractured light across the polished marble floor. Dozens of candles ringed the grand hall, but there were so many—so perfectly placed—that the glow did not flicker. It pulsed, warm and steady, as if holding its breath to watch the couples dance. The golden light bathed the guests in a dreamlike hue, and Georgina’s gown shimmered like emerald gemstones in the glow.
But she wasn’t thinking about her gown. Or the music. Or the dozens of eyes that were surely following them.
Her focus narrowed to the Duke’s hands—one holding hers, the other at her waist—and the way their bodies moved together like a single current, smooth and fluid.
Every step was instinctive, every turn so precisely led that it barely required thought. For the first few seconds, it felt as though they were alone in the ballroom, spinning in some secret, invisible space.
Georgina’s fingers curled a little too tightly against his shoulder. She couldn’t help it. She didn’t want to fall out of rhythm or out of his arms.
“I can see that,” she murmured back.
For the first time since the music had begun, Georgina noticed the other dancers orbiting around them. Elegant couples moved in polished circles, but she and the Duke remained near the center of the dance floor, as steady as the eye of a storm.
The sense of being alone together, of existing in some suspended moment, was beginning to dissipate.
Georgina could sense the guests watching them and knew the reason for it: The two of them moved in flawless synchrony, as though they’d practiced for weeks. But they hadn’t. It was effortless. Natural.
And that was far more dangerous.
“This was a good idea,” the Duke said, his voice low, his breath brushing her cheek. “I’m glad you suggested it.”
“And I’m glad you think quickly on your feet.”
