Page 43 of Rules for Heiresses
“Is it so hard to believe? That she wanted me gone so her precious son could fashion himself as a marquess?”
“She mourned you.” Ravenna hadn’t been mistaken in her memory of the marchioness sobbing her eyes out, her face buried in her son’s shoulder as if her heart would break.
His smile was cold. “A pretense by a gifted actress, mark my words.”
Courtland drew her into the ballroom where the dancers were setting up for the next waltz. Ravenna was so shocked at her husband’s reply that she barely noticed all the stares and the whispers about the Duke and Duchess of Ashvale. Though they’d already had their own celebration, it hadn’t been in London. They would have one, with Lady Embry as avid hostess, but not for a few weeks. Invitations had already been sent out and most promptly accepted, but this was the first time they’d appeared in public together.
“People are staring,” she murmured.
He lifted her gloved hand to his lips. “Let them.”
And then Ravenna forgot everyone as her husband adeptly guided her into the first turn. She’d enjoyed his dancing skill before, and now she just gave herself over to the movements and his expert lead. She didn’t even have to count steps! For such a tall man, he moved with such effortless grace, every turn executed with flawless precision.
Despite the show of support with her mother, he’d made it clear that theirs was to be the most amicable and agreeable marriage known to man. While she fully intended to play along, her traitorous body had other ideas, flushing hot, then cold at every brush of his muscled frame against hers. His hand flexed at her waist, the searing imprint of his fingers cutting through gauze and tulle and making her blood simmer.
“You are blushing,” he murmured.
“It’s warm in here.”
His lips curled in a familiar way that had her dropping her gaze, her cheeks burning even more. “You look exquisite tonight.”
“Thank you.” Pleasure at the soft-spoken compliment drizzled through her. The gown itself was new, nothing different from the extravagant ball gowns she’d worn in the past, but tonight, she felt beautiful in the layers of emerald satin and blond lace. His eyes were glowing, she noticed. Whether that was out of appreciation or something else, Ravenna didn’t care. She wanted that light to remain. “So do you.”
And he did. Courtland Chase stood out. Notwithstanding his height, he simply commanded attention. His finely milled clothing followed the lines of his broad shoulders, tapering to his narrow waist, and the raven-black color and snowy-white cravat only served to set off his masculine beauty. It wasn’t just curiosity that drove so many glances his way. It was also desire and envy. Courtland wore wealth and power like a second skin. Ravenna frowned at a nearby lady who gazed up at him with a coy smile.
“You’re glowering now,” he remarked. “Do I have to call anyone out?”
She sniffed, cheeks on fire. “If anyone’s calling someone out, it will be me.”
“So fierce.”
“You still don’t trust that I can take care of myself, do you?” she asked, grasping his arm for the next turn.
Midnight eyes bored into hers, a smile softening those stern male lips. “I have no doubt, Duchess,” he said, her pulse leaping at the address. When others addressed her thus, the title chafed, but when he did it with that underlying hint of possessiveness, it thrilled. Not that she would ever admit it. “I am aware that you are quite accomplished in many things.”
He led her off the dance floor when the strains of music ended, much to her enduring disappointment. In the past, she’d always been more than ready to move on to the next partner. Dances were a way of passing the interminable time. She enjoyed the movement far more than she liked the tiresome conversation that always descended into some form of empty flattery. They wanted her dowry or her name or her connections.
“Embry’s duchess taught me how to fence,” she explained, when he handed her a glass of champagne with a quirk of one dark eyebrow. “She could acquit herself with the best of Embry’s most lethal men and fended off an attacker in my own home. I insisted on lessons and practiced diligently.”
“And your skill with a pistol,” he asked. “Has that sharpened?”
She grinned. “Care to test me?”
“No, I quite value my life.” The reply was gentle and fell over her like a soft cloud of approval. Ravenna basked in it. How she loved seeing him like this…almost human, a grin flirting over that indecent mouth, eyes lit with esteem…all those hard, roughened edges tempered by something she hadn’t expected from him. Playfulness. Affection.
Or maybe she was imagining things.
Stop being ridiculous. He doesn’t actually mean to seduce you.
A low rumble of laughter caught her attention. Mortified, she shot her husband a glance, hoping he hadn’t noticed her distraction, but of course she wasn’t that fortunate.
“What I would give to be privy to your thoughts just then,” he said. “You seemed to be having quite the internal debate.”
Her cheeks heated anew and she snapped open her fan to cool herself. “Was it so obvious?”
“It wouldn’t be if your lips hadn’t been moving. I think I caught the words ‘ridiculous’ and ‘seduce.’ I admit I am rather intrigued.” Courtland grinned, propping one shoulder on a nearby marble pillar. Despite the relaxed stance of his body, the light in his eyes smoldered, leaving her in little doubt of what such intrigue meant. To her consternation, she felt her body respond, liquid heat gathering in her belly and coiling down between her thighs.
Surely he couldn’t mean…?
