Page 47 of The Duke's Stolen Heart
Chapter 16
Malcolm’s heart stopped for a long moment as he regarded Antonia in her regal new gown. Yet as blood slowly pumped back up to his brain he also recognized the brittleness beneath the beautiful shell. When he reached Margaret’s side it required every ounce of his self-control not to sweep Antonia into his arms and carry her away from here. Keep her safe.
He had sent her on a mission that could cost her her life. He had no right to protect her.
“Good evening, Havencrest.” Margaret curtseyed quickly. The tiny diamond-and-pearl hair ornaments scattered through her light blond curls winked at him. His hand rose as if to pat her on the head like a spaniel, but he willed it back to his side. The sooner the nightmare of their courtship was over, the better.
“Good evening.” His gaze skimmed over Antonia. She lifted her chin. Had he captured this precise, defiant angle in his sketches? If not, he must try again. Alas, being caught in the act of kissing this morning had cost him the space. They had nowhere else to meet in secret tomorrow and Wednesday morning, which meant they had no further time to practice their waltz.
Unless they took the opportunity now.
“Miss Lowry, would you favor me with a dance?”
She examined her dance card. “A reel?”
“The next waltz.”
Her brows knit together in a frown. “I thought that wasn’t permitted without permission.”
“That’s only an Almack’s rule,” Margaret interjected. “Go on, I want to catch up with Annabelle Kilpatrick. I claim next dance.”
The moment Antonia placed her gloved hand in his, Malcolm knew this would be a disaster. She was stiff and unyielding, just as she had been the first time. “Couldn’t we have started with a cotillion?” she demanded as they took their places. “We only had to wait one song.”
“We lost our practice space today. The director was irate. He cursed me out soundly for turning his studio into a bawdy house.”
Antonia clicked her tongue. “Hardly. Dens of iniquity usually involve far more than mere kissing.”
The thought of more than kissing made the front of his trousers uncomfortably tight. “How would you know anything on the subject?”
“The kind of woman who starts life as a servant and winds up a jewel thief doesn’t enjoy the same protections from men's baser instincts that the ladies in this room receive.”
“I wasn’t speaking in generalities,” he seethed as they careened a little too close to another couple. “I was asking about you.” He tightened his grip on her waist. Antonia resisted and trod on his shoe. Malcolm grimaced.
“I am not prepared to discuss my past in the middle of the dance floor,” Antonia sniped. “How would you like it if I asked you for an accounting of where and with whom you first experienced the pleasures of the bedroom?”
Her voice rang too loud in his ears. Someone would overhear them; it would be a scandal. A dark, possessive thrill whipped through him. It would be the excuse he needed to make Antonia his duchess. The thought doused his lust long enough for his good sense to reassert itself.
Antonia could not be a duchess. No matter how well she looked the part this evening, there were protocols to being a duke, which he dared not defy. One married for connections. Marrying for love cost opportunities to increase one’s fortune and hardly guaranteed happiness anyway. Look at how his parents’ marriage had turned out.
“A discussion for another time,” he muttered. “I wanted to let you know not to come for dancing lessons tomorrow. That's all.”
“Done.” She pulled out of arms so quickly that Malcolm couldn’t prevent it. Antonia’s bosom rose and fell in distracting rhythm.
“You can't stop dancing,” he ordered. “It isn’t done.”
“Watch me.”
Unbelievably, Antonia Lowry darted around a shocked couple and away from him. Malcolm ducked his chin briefly in apology to a couple forced to break step to avoid her. First his awful sketches, now this. If he didn’t find a way to pry out the hook Antonia had set deep into his flesh, and soon, he was liable to ruin everything. His mother’s portrait would grace the Havencrest halls once again, even if it was the last thing he ever accomplished in this lifetime. All he needed were the two halves of the necklace to recreate his memory of that night. The details of her features would return to him—and Malcolm could finally put his mother’s memory to rest.
Malcolm wove his way to Lady Evendaw and claimed Margaret’s hand without acknowledging Antonia’s turned back.
“What happened—Oh.” Margaret permitted him to sweep her into his arms. She moved, pliant and responsive, twirling easily about the room without a hint of protest.
“Nothing. Your friend and I had an argument. It will blow over.”
“Is this about your secret project?” Margaret asked a little breathlessly. Malcolm forced himself to slow down. The waltz ended, but he maneuvered her into position for the next dance without returning his rumored soon-to-be bride to her friends.It isn’t done.
“Yes,” he confirmed, though his mind was elsewhere. A gentleman did not risk his dance partner’s reputation by dancing twice in a row. Yet, he had done it. Breaking the rules did not cause the roof to collapse. No hellfire rained down on his head. Malcolm stood silent, waiting for the opening strains of the song to finish while Margaret glanced uncertainly around. How liberating it was to defy expectations and live to tell the tale.
