Page 34 of The Lady's Last Mistake
“So long as you can successfully deceive the marquess, that is all that matters, isn’t it?” she replied.
The worddeceivestruck him low in the gut. However, he would allow it to stand. Yes, he would deceive his father and without an ounce of remorse.
“You keep pretending this won’t be beneficial for you as well,” he replied. “Two more waltzes tonight, and Fournier may well dance a jig all the way home.”
Under his hand upon her back, he felt the spasm of alaugh, quickly swallowed. The twinge of victory at having made her laugh was short lived.
“You do not know my brother,” she said. “As I’ve already said, he thinks you are a degenerate. He won’t approve of any courtship, especially one that lasts for more than two weeks. Your plan is faulty, sir.”
They spun, and the close hold required for the waltz brought the front of Cassie’s body into contact with his. He moved his palm inward on her back. Hell, he wished he wore no gloves so his fingertips could touch her bare, soft skin. Cassie’s fingers tensed on his shoulder.
“Yesterday…at my office,” he began, intending to apologize.
“Please, don’t speak of it.”
He peered down at her, but she was staring at his cravat. “Why not?”
“It was a mistake.”
It was the same thing he had told himself time and again since it happened. And yet now his response was: “It didn’t feel like a mistake.”
Her attention lifted from the neckcloth knot, and he had a mere second to appear confident in his assertion rather than panicked.Why had he said that?
“It was, I assure you. And no, this isn’t beneficial for me. Whispers will begin that we are attached?—”
“That is the plan,” he said, spinning her toward a less populated portion of the dancefloor.
“No, that isyourplan, and you’ve twisted my arm into helping you. Hope House is my purpose, it’s my life, and I won’t allow you and your loosetongue to ruin it.”
“Cassie, you’re losing your temper,” he warned, catching a glimpse of the duke’s hard stare from the other side of the dance floor. Grant peeled her a few inches away from his chest.
“What do you care, so long as you get your courtship? Yes, I am going along with it, but I know exactly what sort of man you are.”
He slowed them now that they’d reached the outer edge of dancing couples. “What sort is that, exactly? And softly, if you please, I’ve no wish to read our conversation inAll the Chattertomorrow.”
Nonetheless, the popular gossip rag would surely feature their intense waltz. They continued to hold each other in the waltz pose, taking languid turns around a small section of ballroom floor. “The kind of man who is ruled by whim and desire and privilege,” she answered.
He came to a stop and led her from the floor, toward a potted palm and two wallflowers sipping punch alone in their chairs. They had but a moment before someone descended upon them. “What is this all about? You’re furious with me right now, and not just because of this scheme.”
“Of course it is.”
“Then where was this fury of yours yesterday in my office when you wanted me to kiss you?”
She sucked in a breath. “I did not.”
“Do not lie. You wanted it as much as I did.”
Cassie’s teeth bit her bottom lip, directing his attention there. And then, they were no longer alone.
“Lady Cassandra.” A male voice pierced the hot bubble that had formed around them. Grant dragged in a breath andturned to see Mr. Forsythe. God save him, Grant wanted to knock out the grinning fool’s front teeth.
Cassie, too, inhaled sharply, and pasted on a bright smile for the baron’s heir. “Good evening, Mr. Forsythe. What a pleasure that you’re here.”
The warm and enthusiastic greeting was a blade between Grant’s ribs.
“May I have the next dance, my lady?” Forsythe asked with an overindulgent bow in which his forehead practically bounced off the floor.
Cassie twisted the blade between Grant’s ribs as she held her hand out. “That would be lovely.”
