Page 43 of The Duke's Stolen Heart
“Then why not take it?” Antonia asked, and Malcolm’s fragile hope that she returned his feelings shattered.
“Your friend offers nothing I cannot already take for myself. No one expects fidelity from a duke.”
“Your mother did, though, didn’t she.” Antonia’s flat observation gutted him.
“Yes. Which makes it all the more ridiculous that I prefer to marry for the same reasons my parents did.”
“Which is?”
Malcolm’s lips refused to open and admit the word.Love.“Affection. Friendship.”
Did he imagine it, or did disappointment flash over her features? “Well, I am surprised Margaret knows enough about marriage to make such an offer.”
“She is full of surprises.”
“That she is. Now, do you want to hear my plan for obtaining your precious bauble or not?”
“Very much.” Malcolm set the metronome to swinging. Its mechanical clicking rhythm filled the room. “A reel. Hold your arms like this.” He demonstrated. They needed more practice with the waltz, but now was not the time. Not with his body in riot after hours of imagining Antonia naked, only to discover her in the flesh gazing curiously at the output of his fevered dreams. One would think he had never met a woman before.
“I plan to challenge Lady Summervale to a battle of cards.”
“With what inducement?”
“Your grandmother is experiencing financial difficulties stemming from her Sunday afternoon ladies’ betting league. I am going to offer her a way to solve those problems.”
“I tried that already. Lady Summervale turned me down flat when I offered to buy the Heart’s Cry. Didn’t I tell you this?”
“Yes, I wonder now…” Antonia’s features clouded. She missed a step. “What if I offer her the other half of the necklace?”
Cold dread spiraled through him. Malcolm faltered. They stood there in silence with only the ticking of the metronome and the faint rumble of cart wheels on the street outside. “No.”
“Why not?”
“My grandmother cannot have both halves. I’ll never see them again if you lose.” His grandmother hated him. His mother’s miniature would remain ruined. He’d never click the two pieces together and imagine her voice in his ear, husky with warm and sadness. Malcolm needed the jewel to help him his past behind him before he could find his way forward.
“I can still steal it,” Antonia shot back with an insouciant grin.
“I cannot imagine possessing as much confidence as you do.” Malcolm laughed. She was the most captivating
“Me? How rich, coming from a duke,” Antonia teased. He detected a note of strain in her voice, though, as if she teetered on the edge of brittle tears. He had embarrassed her with his sketches. Hell, he had discomfited himself. But each pass of their bodies as they practiced the steps he had demonstrated cracked his resolve not to touch her a little further.
“Arrogant, yes. Confidence…I have you to keep me in check.”
Antonia cocked one eyebrow. “Do I do that?”
“Do what?”
“Keep you humble. Take you down a peg or two.”
“Hourly,” Malcolm said wryly. “You’ve quite a talent for bringing proud men to their knees. How did you ever survive while working as a servant? I cannot imagine you holding your tongue when your master wanted a fresh pot of—”
Antonia froze. Malcolm’s nerves prickled with awareness that he had said something wrong. Before he could grasp what it might be, she laughed. “There were days I bit my tongue so hard it bled. But that has nothing to do with getting you your necklace. Here's how we are going to do it. I am going to ingratiate myself with the Almack’s patronesses. On Wednesday, I am going to prove myself worthy of waltzing. It has to be perfect. I must look in every respect like Princess Esterhazy's equal.”
Master. That was what he’d said wrong. He had used a description in the common vernacular of the English upper class, and Antonia’s entire body had bristled. Malcolm half listened while Antonia explained her plan.
“You are more than her equal,” he interjected.
“Why, aren’t you full of compliments this morning.”
