Page 7 of The Love Potion
“Miss Petrelli.”
“Lady Zoe.”
“Your Grace.”
“My lord.”
“I believe this is our dance,” said Lord Nathaniel as he extended his hand in a comically elegant display. It came complete with several wrist flourishes, and it made Zoe laugh in delight. Kynthea, too, because he was so very charming.
“You are entirely too droll,” Zoe said to the man.
“And you are entirely too beautiful. Nevertheless, we two imperfect souls must dance. Shall we?”
Zoe pinked sweetly then nodded. She shot one last glance at Kynthea before she allowed herself to be swept onto the dance floor. And as she left, Kynthea felt her shoulders relax. Finally, a man who could keep the girl from ruining herself with a depressed mood.
“Shall we find our place?” asked His Grace.
Oh yes. With her charge taken care of for the moment, Kynthea now felt free to say her peace to the arrogant duke.
“If you don’t mind, Your Grace, I should much prefer a turn about the room. There is something I should like to say to you, and it is easier when not dancing.”
“As you wish,” he said as he offered her his arm.
She took his arm carefully. He was a tall man with chiseled features that included a strong nose and a lifted chin. His shoulders were broad which was pleasing, and she couldn’t help but note the strength in his arm where her fingers lay. Even through the covering of shirt and coat, she could feel the shift in his muscles as he directed her through the room. There was weight to this man in body and in presence, as was befitting a duke. How sad that there was no kindness in him to soften all that intimidating wealth and power.
“Are you enjoying the evening—”
“You need to make up to Zoe, Your Grace. It was cruel to cut her so baldly. She is a girl in her first come-out. All the gossips were watching, and now you’ve severely damaged herreputation. It’s cruel of you, and I pray—nay, I demand—that you set things right.” Oh my. She hadn’t meant to get so fervent in her words, but she’d been storing them up all evening. The damage he’d done to Zoe was real, and as such, it was incumbent upon him to fix it.
Unfortunately, he was not nearly as moved as she was. He turned to look at her, a clear scowl on his handsome features. “If Lady Zoe wants my approval, then she should not trip women out of spite.”
Thank God he spoke in an undertone, one that could be heard by her and no one else. “You saw that?”
“I did. And I cannot understand how you of all people can be here demanding I indulge her behavior.”
Kynthea sighed. “You don’t understand. She was doing me a kindness.”
“A kindness? Good God, woman, are your wits addled?”
“No, Your Grace.” There was steel in her tone. The situation was complicated, and he had no right to judge her so quickly. Or Zoe. And so she would tell him, except for the dozens of prying eyes that watched them promenade about the room and the half dozen sets of ears straining to hear their every word. Worse, there were women in every direction trying to get the duke’s attention. They winked, they fluttered their fans, they even pretended to stumble in his direction as a way to catch his gaze for a mere second. It was ridiculous, and she could not so much as whisper the words “love potion” without risking everyone in earshot repeating the phrase ad nauseum.
But that was Almack’s on the first Thursday of the Season. Wall to wall debutantes and their hopeful mamas, especially when everyone knew that the most eligible bachelor would be there looking for a bride.
“We cannot speak freely here,” she whispered.
“I cannot imagine what you think—”
“Oh my, Your Grace,” she said in a high, reedy voice. “it’s so hot in here.” She waved her fan in front of her face. “Do you think, perhaps, that we could step outside for a moment?”
He looked down at her. “You are a terrible actress.”
He was critiquing her performance? What an ass! “You would prefer I faint into your arms?”
His expression hardened. “You will not get a declaration from me, Miss Petrelli, no matter how compromising a position you create.”
She gaped at him. Good God, did he think she was trying to trap him into marriage? Of all the idiotic, arrogant ideas! “I am an impoverished relation of Lady Zoe,” she snapped, not bothering to lower her tone. “Her dowry includes property worth a thousand pounds per annum. All I have to recommend me is my average looks and witless charm. I assure you, Your Grace, no one expects you to propose even if I were to throw myself naked into your arms. I am merely overheated and wish to step outside.” She took a deep breath. “Now do you accompany me or not?”
Well, that outburst certainly wiped the smug look off his face. And left him dumbfounded because after a moment’s startled look, he lifted his arm to her.
